December 30, 2009
Chuck and Shigeko Irwin close the Lost Horizon after three decades
LEFT: A Nicholas Cage look-a-like is his tender years, Chuck Irwin has been hosting dinner parties for almost half a lifetime with his bride, Shigeko, at the Lost Horizon Supper Club in Alta. Famous for the multi-course Japanese and Chinese feast they have offered for decades, Chuck and Shigeko are hanging up their chopsticks, retiring their beloved repertoire. CITIZEN PHOTO / HOPE STRONGIf you’ve ever been to the Lost Horizon Dinner Club, there’s no need to explain. If you haven’t, well, it’s pretty hard to understand the gravity of Chuck and Shigeko Irwin calling it quits after 33 years.
On your way up to the Grand Targhee Resort, the Inn Lost Horizon was a relic out of the 70’s nestled in an aspen grove.
There was really no way to prepare someone for the experience of the nine course Asian fusion extravaganza that came out of Shigeko’s kitchen or the old world hospitality that is Chuck’s second nature. On Tuesday night, Chuck and Shigeko hosted their last supper for a handful of lucky guests. The patrons were veterans of the Lost Horizon, well aware that they needed to arrive with warm spirits and hearty appetites.
Following a colorful career in the Air Force, Chuck and Shigeko landed in Teton Valley and built the Inn Lost Horizon on the road to Teton Canyon. Constructed with three levels, dinner guests entered on the ground floor after trading their shoes for the requisite slippers handmade by Shigeko. With the feel of a stately ship’s parlor, the bar on the first floor was filled with eclectic art work, mostly velvet nudes that inspired conversation in a hushed tone as Chuck mixed a cocktail or two.
A narrow spiral staircase delivered guests to the second floor, a place of enchantment on both a culinary and a cultural level.
Filled to the ceiling with a lifetime of international travel, the dining room was literally a museum with African masks, zebra hides, model ships, cork curtains, and countless other treasures from Chuck and Shigeko’s collection. In between the many courses of the meal, Chuck told jokes and stories, encouraging guests to lounge around the circular fireplace in the center of the room to play the well worn puzzles and games like Ship, and Captain and Crew.
By the end of the meal, Chuck got scolded a few times by Shigeko for lingering too long in between courses. He’d wink at the guests and pour another glass of wine all around. In addition to a delicate salad and a warming soup, Chuck brought out Shrimp and Vegetable Tempura, Cashew Chicken, Duck Shangri-La, Szechwan Beef, and a few other favorites that all required the manipulation of a set of chopsticks.
Not always a house of Japanese and Chinese fare, Chuck and Shigeko opened in 1976 with a European theme that was quickly abandoned for what has endured for over three decades with Shigeko hidden in the kitchen and Chuck on the floor.
For the last several years, the Irwins have abbreviated their dinner schedule to include only Fridays and Saturdays, but they have decided that 2009 is the last year they will host the dinner parties that have left many a guest rubbing their bellies with a smile, wondering if the last four hours was a dream.
Featured in dozens of publications over the years, Shigeko likes some write-ups more than others. She boasts ink in the L.A. Times and tells of the time Ski Magazine listed the Lost Horizon as one of the top ten romantic, gourmet restaurants in the United States. Despite the many articles written on Chuck and Shigeko’s one of a kind gig, the best press ever received was that of repeat clientele over the years. With 80 percent repeat business, the Irwins let word of mouth do their bidding, never spending a dime on advertising.
“Once they came they always remember us,” Shigeko said a sparkle in her eye that has obviously stopped the clock for the beautiful woman that grew up outside of Tokyo.
Though the Inn Lost Horizon has been on the market for years, the Irwins will likely lower the price to motivate buyers, but they are not interested in passing on the tricks of their trade to anyone.
“I’m not going to teach anybody anything,” Shigeko laughed. “They’ll have to do their own thing, come up with their own idea. Chuck and I are not for sale.”
Good natured to the end, Chuck and Shigeko’s last supper at the Lost Horizon Supper Club is a great loss for Teton Valley, but it will mean more domestic travel for the couple. Shigeko still hasn’t set foot in Connecticut or Pennsylvania, so there are still places to go and things to see.
There will not likely be a substitute for the Lost Horizon. Those who experienced a night with Chuck and Shigeko should savor the memories, and those who missed out should hope for better luck in their next lifetime.
