OG: Jesse's Embers
Jesse's Embers has changed ownership only three times since opening in 1963. So, how's it doing since the newest owner took over this past spring? You know I'll tell you!
Review of Jesse’s Embers
3301 Ingersoll Ave.; (515) 255-6011
Lunch: Wednesday through Friday: 11 a.m. to 2 p.m.
Dinner: Wednesday through Saturday, 4:30 to 9:30 p.m.
OG* restaurants rarely make “Best” or “Essential” lists. Take, for instance, Jesse’s Embers—absent from both Susan Stapleton’s 2025 list of “Essential Restaurants” for the Des Moines Register and Karla Walsh’s “36 Best Restaurants in Des Moines” for Eater. (Both are food writers I highly respect, by the way.)
That’s probably because—put simply—OG restaurants sometimes disappoint in ways longtime loyalists with deep ties to the community can overlook, but food journalists writing for a broader audience cannot. Not if they want to maintain even a semblance of credibility.
Of course, being the kind of reviewer I am, I will not overlook flaws, but I’ll also tell you why I enjoy—and will probably always enjoy—Jesse’s Embers all the same.
*Let’s Talk OG for a Second
OG stands for “original gangster” (or “old guard,” in less-edgy speak). In restaurant terms, OG rarely points to the sublime. Rather it signals a kind of gravitas—earned through time, resilience, and a deep-rooted place in the fabric of a city. These spots have fed generations, outlasted trends, and get major street-cred for keeping the lights on for decades in a brutally unforgiving industry.
Jesse’s Embers has done all that, and if you grew up anywhere near the west side of Des Moines, you might have memories—and perhaps even some stories passed down before you ever set foot in the place. Allow me to share two of mine:
—In the early 60s, when my father was living in Cedar Rapids, he’d often come to Des Moines on business. If he couldn’t find my bachelor uncle (his brother) at home on Shriver, he’d know that if it was dinnertime, he’d find him at Jesse’s Embers.
—That uncle once told me a story of how, one day in the 1960s, after lunch at The Embers, he and a buddy tried to convince owner Jesse Roush that they could surely fit one more table in dining room. For an entire afternoon, Uncle Barry and his buddy scrambled the tables every which way; finally they had to concede there was no way to fit even one more two-top in the snug little joint.
Sure, I’ve got my own memories—but those old stories only deepen my affection.