The B’s of the Banner Elk Ball

The B’s of the Banner Elk Ball

This is the story of how a recent girls’ trip to The Land of Oz turned into a real-life fairy tale.

One day, in the not-so-distant past, after a magical afternoon in Oz, my three friends and I descended Beech Mountain and happened upon The Village of Banner Elk whose outdoor entertainment venue and variety of restaurants immediately signaled that we’d found the perfect spot to grab a quick bite to eat.

We had a light snack and cocktails at The Bayou.  Our super cute waitress encouraged us to return that evening for live music and karaoke. We thanked her but doubted it was possible as we would be staying 45 minutes away in Boone.

Before departing, we walked around the rest of the venue and spotted this intriguing site:  

I tried to peep into the windows and looked around the building to see what was being shielded from public eye, but had no luck. A passerby explained that it was Prime 21 Steakhouse, a bar and restaurant for wealthy and famous guests who wanted privacy.

We took a few more photos and then loaded up to leave for Boone.  But first, I would make a fateful last-minute decision to visit the little girls’ room. 

On my way out, I spotted an employee and asked him if he knew what the membership dues cost at Prime 21. He did not, but offered to have the manager give me a tour. I attempted to decline but he insisted.  I quickly ran out to retrieve my friends.  We met back up with him around the corner and waited for the manager to arrive. 

While we waited, another gentleman stopped and introduced himself as the owner. We, in turn, introduced ourselves.  I’d had just the one cocktail thus far, but it is the only reason I can explain that I may (or may not) have embellished our professions a little.  After a brief chat, the manager had been delayed so he kindly offered to take us on a personal tour of his exclusive, members only restaurant.

As we entered through the mysterious British phone booth, he explained that we could take pictures of everything but the wine storage lockers, which were off limits as they contained the names of patrons who wanted to remain anonymous.  

Once inside, he walked us around the main dining area and introduced us to the chefs.  We then entered the bar/club where we met the rest of the staff who were in the middle of a meeting. 

At the end of our tour, he encouraged us to come back for cocktails later that day and asked us where we were staying that night. When we told him Boone, he asked if we could cancel that reservation and stay at one of his places at his nearby winery/villa instead. He explained that it was a large house that was sitting empty and we were more than welcome to put it to good use. 

Wide-eyed and speechless, we all stumbled for a response.  On the one hand, when given a choice between the Raddison in Boone or a Villa in Banner Elk, the obvious answer is YES!  On the other hand, when a total stranger offers to let you stay in his place at a nearby, but unknown location, the obvious answer is a hard NO. Let me restate that for my daughter who may read this: When a total stranger invites you anywhere, the answer is not just no, but HELL NO.  

In my mind, though, we were four middle aged moms who couldn’t possibly have anything this guy would want. His personality and hospitality seemed genuine. And, from a business perspective, it made sense. He would book us reservations at one of his restaurants and give us a tour of his daughter’s boutique where we would spend money that otherwise would have been spent elsewhere.  

We accepted his invitation but proceeded with caution.  We couldn’t have imagined what we were in for next.  We followed him to his winery about 15 minutes away and, upon arrival, were gobsmacked. North Carolina and the Blue Ridge Mountains are beautiful in and of themselves, but this was a paradise within paradise.  

We arrived at the Banner Elk Winery, where he ushered us into the main clubhouse and introduced us to the beautiful bartender/sommelier.  She proceeded to offer us tastings and poured each of us a glass of our favorite selection. We delighted in the stories they would tell us of the property’s history and their wonderful wines.  

Before he left, our gracious host wished us well and asked the sommelier to escort us over to our accommodations.  He also instructed us to have one of the restaurant managers give us a ride back to the villa when we were done with dinner.  

We walked up the hill to the house we had spotted driving in, the Banner Elk Villa.  Neither words, nor pictures, can do this place justice.

  Once we’d caught our breath and freshened up, we went back over to the club and explored the rest of the grounds while sipping another glass of wine and pinching ourselves. 

We then headed back to the restaurant village and Prime 21, which was now full of people enjoying cocktails.  We sat in what will likely be the plushest bar I’ll ever visit and just soaked it all in. 

Afterwards, we headed to the Chef’s Table for our dinner reservations.  The atmosphere, food and staff were delightful. As we dined, we were eventually joined by a few locals who found us interesting or curious or both. We shared some of our story and enjoyed learning a little about each of them.  At one point, the waitress brought over two more bottles of wine courtesy of another table.  Once again, we were in total shock and tried to decline but were firmly refused.

At the conclusion of our dinner, we returned to where it all began.  At the Bayou, the outdoor band was rocking and karaoke was in full swing inside.  We sang along and danced for a bit.  From across the bar, we spotted our cute waitress from earlier who saw us and yelled out, “I knew you bitches would be back!” We laughed so hard and then made a dash for the door to catch our pumpkin carriage who’d arrived to return us to the villa and thus conclude our dreamy day. 

Y’all, I don’t know what it was about four East Tennessee moms that attracted this kind of fortune, but we had the time of our lives and truly felt like the B******’s of the ball.