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!

The Ingersoll mainstay, since 1963.

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.

Settling into Jesse’s with Sally

For me, Jesse’s is one of those places to head when it’s been too hot to leave the house, but by the end of the day, you’re going stir-crazy, and you have to do something. At the same time, you realize it’s been way too long since you’ve seen an old friend. All the better if she’s one who knows what Jesse’s is all about—no need to explain, no need to manage expectations.

When you text at 5:05 and ask if she’s like to go to Jesse’s Embers, she says, “I’d love to.”

But you’ll want to get there early, or wait. They take no reservations, and the place is snug. The three of us snagged one of the last remaining tables at 5:30 on July 3rd—and if I thought it would be slow on a pre-holiday night, I was wrong, as the place soon swelled.

Within minutes of settling into the cozy, wood-paneled room, we spotted a few familiar Des Moines figures. I won’t name names, but let’s just say we glimpsed a retired cultural heavyweight, a real estate powerhouse duo, and a financier with serious local clout. It’s always been that kind of place.

Niceties and (+ a Not-So-Nicety)

Ember's Special Sirloin. Petite Filet. Pike.

The gimlet was icy cold and the wine pours reasonably generous for the price ($9 to $11). I was completely charmed by the short, stubby, utterly old-school water-glasses that need frequent refilling—which, it just occurred to me, provide a very subtle reason for a server to check in, scan the table, and see if you need anything without having to interrupt the conversational flow.

Alas, the dinner salads missed the mark. Yes, it was a scorcher of a day, but still—the salads (and their dressings) really shouldn’t have arrived as unappetizingly warm as they did.

Spirits were immediately lifted by the steaks. Sally’s immense Ember’s Special ($31)—a 12-ounce prime sirloin—satisfied with its rosy-pink doneness and robust beef flavor. It was not, of course, as tender, rich, and silken as the small filet ($37)—no sirloins ever are, right?

I will say this: while we had ordered the filet medium rare, it was definitely on the rare side (cool, shiny-red center). I’m fine with that—I always order steaks medium rare, because I can enjoy them anywhere from rare to medium. Yet it is, after, all my job to report back with a discerning eye.

We also tried the broiled pike ($24). It’s a classic firm, mild whitefish—flaky and moist—but it’s no steak. Still, I’m happy to order it when I’m cutting back on red meat.

Service Makes This a Standout

There are plenty of places I wouldn’t dream of visiting on July 3. These days, the world—especially social media—bends over backward to excuse short staffing at restaurants, especially around a holiday. The message? Maybe they gave some folks the day off to be with their families. If service is slow or things go sideways, that’s on you for expecting otherwise. Showing up with standards the day before a holiday? Clearly, you’re the problem.

OG restaurants don’t need apologists. They just show up and do the work.

The place was fully staffed; service prompt, friendly, and intuitive. And if I didn’t spot the new owner—Carter Annett—that’s OK. The front of the house was firing on all cylinders.

Bottom Line: If you think Jesse’s Ember’s appeal is all about nostalgia, you’re not paying attention.

Part of the experience is walking in through the back door, past the dish-room and open-pit grill. Makes you feel like a regular whether you are one or not.

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