Exploring Café Genevieve, Jackson Wyoming: From Huckleberry Pancakes to Eggs Benedict, a Rustic Haven for Breakfast and Brunch Enthusiasts!

If you’re wandering the streets of Jackson, Wyoming—maybe a little disoriented by the postcard perfection of the Tetons—there’s a cabin tucked just off Broadway that doesn’t ask for attention but certainly earns it. Café Genevieve doesn’t announce itself. It invites. A porch wrapped in pine shade, a flicker of warmth through old glass, and inside, the scent of coffee and bacon curling into the air like a memory you didn’t know you missed.

I haven’t eaten pork in over a decade, but the smell of bacon still gets past my defenses. It’s not nostalgia exactly, it’s something more ambient. Familiar. Like the sound of plates clinking in a place that’s been feeding people long before you arrived. The building itself is a historic log cabin, weathered and low-slung, once home to Jackson’s first mayor. Now it’s home to Executive Chef Joshua Governale’s quiet rebellion: comfort food with a pulse.

The menu reads like a love letter to the region, but it’s not stuck in tradition. There’s a Cajun Eggs Benedict that leans smoky and sharp, stone-ground grits that hold their own, and huckleberry pancakes that taste like the forest in late summer: sweet, fleeting, and a little wild. The biscuits and gravy are unapologetically rich; the kind of dish that makes you slow down and reconsider your plans for the day.

And then there’s the Pig Candy. Guy Fieri called it legendary, and he’s not wrong. Thick-cut bacon, caramelized until it shatters, kissed with brown sugar and cayenne. It’s the kind of thing that makes you forget your rules. Or remember why you made them.

But Café Genevieve isn’t just about the food. It’s about the way the light falls across the wood floors, the way the staff greets you like you’ve been here before, the way the art on the walls—abstract pigs, mostly—manages to be both absurd and tender. It’s a place where they understand comfort isn’t just a flavor. It’s a feeling.

If you go, ask for Guy’s favorite plate. Sit on the porch if you can. Let the wind remind you that you’re in Wyoming, and let the food remind you that you’re still becoming.