From beets to Beard nominations, how Minnesota’s farmland informs this fine-dining chef

Looking out the car window, the scenery rolls from wetland grasses into soft hills of freshly turned black soil, the cropland framed by trees sporting tiny green buds. The road narrows as the humming of the freeway gives way to the thumping of weathered asphalt.

It’s a scene Karyn Tomlinson could re-create from memory with a little rough paper and watercolors. Instead, her head is tipped toward her phone as she works from the passenger seat. Two to three times a week she travels more than an hour west of her home in the Twin Cities to the place that feels like home, Dassel-Cokato.

Tomlinson is the chef/owner of Myriel, an intimate St. Paul restaurant that’s been drawing praise from coast to coast for its thoughtful presentation of fresh produce, refined technique and vibrant flavors that unapologetically delve into dishes that were served at farmhouse kitchen tables for generations.

With national accolades from publications like Food & Wine, Esquire and the Washington Post and a recent James Beard Award nomination for Best Chef: Midwest, it would be reasonable to expect an ego inside the restaurant with just 38 seats. But what Myriel and Tomlinson represent is the kind of good work that can only come with a little dirt scrunched under the nails.

The restaurant is named for the “Les Misérables” character Bishop Myriel, whose hospitality and faith in one man’s humanity is a catalyst for a greater good. Like the character, Tomlinson is accustomed to making impactful decisions with a mix of care and faith.

“She was always so bold,” recalled her mom, Anita Tomlinson, who sometimes drives Karyn on those city-to-farm runs. “I was worried about her as an only child, because I grew up one of seven kids. But I didn’t need to.”

“I think my life was quieter than most kids,” said Tomlinson, 39. “But I was never bored.” Hours were spent in the woods near the family’s suburban home, inspecting tiny flowers, listening to tittering birds and imagining whole, big worlds.

A highlight of her childhood was time spent with her grandparents in Dassel. She’d adopt a farmer’s stance, alongside her grandfather’s meticulous vegetable garden, and ask, “How are the beets doing?”

She marinated in the love that neighbors fed each other. “Anytime somebody would die, somebody would walk across the back 40 with a casserole,” she recalled. “I got to experience the joy firsthand of growing things, making a thoughtful, delicious meal and seeing people connect in a way that they just wouldn’t if the circumstances were different.”

Through her dad‘s job — Tim Tomlinson was a longtime college administrator in the Twin Cities — Tomlinson had the opportunity to travel at a young age.

She took college courses in high school, and used her college years to study a wide range of subjects — art, history, business, film and theology — and joined a jazz band. In her tiny dorm room, she began to cook, calling home to Mom and reading Jacques Pepín for advice. After graduating, she found space to garden and a job with a nonprofit that allowed her to use some of her produce to feed others. Soon the meals were overtaking her day job, and she started to wonder if that might be the path to the purposeful life she’d been seeking.

Armed with high school French language skills, she enrolled at Le Cordon Bleu cooking school in Paris, where Julia Child studied. “It was intense,” she said, recalling falling asleep on her notes and jerking awake just in time to race back into the classroom for another day of lessons.

After graduating, she was hired at Meritage in St. Paul expecting kitchen work, but instead was assigned to the host stand. “But I learned a lot,” Tomlinson said. “Eventually, I weaseled my way into the crêpe stand. I took it so seriously.”

While not drawn to desserts, she sought an opportunity as the opening pastry chef at Borough in Minneapolis. There she gained a grasp of the organizational process that goes into building a new business.

But still she craved something savory, and something bigger, in the hospitality world.

At the time, in the 2010s, Scandinavian restaurants were global leaders in fine dining. It was also the first region she traveled to as a child. “The world kind of came alive to me,” she recalled. With friends in Sweden and Norway, she booked a ticket, and scored reservations at select top-tier restaurants.

To thank the kitchen staff at each meal, she would bake and give them a pie, the first thing she learned to make. “I was traveling with lard and a pastry cutter,” she said with a laugh.

It was at Fäviken, Magnus Nilsson’s now-closed influential 24-seat restaurant in northern Sweden, that a chance encounter changed everything.

After dinner, her friends went out for fresh air. “It’s just my nerdy little self at the table alone and we got to chat,” she said; Nilsson had just been in Minnesota. He asked her more about what she did, and she confessed that she was at a bit of a crossroads.

“You could come work here for the winter,” she recalled him saying. She hadn’t even considered the possibility until that moment — Fäviken selected only a handful of young cooks for its stage program, where young chefs trade free labor for knowledge at high-end restaurants. Being able to participate was a privilege, Tomlinson acknowledged.

But in that kitchen she found a deeper understanding of her profession and a fresh admiration for the young girl whose imagination was fed by the wilderness.

“There was a pride in professionalism at a level that I’d never experienced,” said Tomlinson. “There was an intentionality behind absolutely everything, right down to the way that guests were greeted. It clicked for me that this is what hospitality can be.”

Upon returning to Minneapolis, she was hired by Thomas Boemer at Corner Table as his sous chef. “She had an impressive understanding of ingredients and process,” Boemer said.

The restaurant was known for its seasonal menus and relationships with foragers and farms; Tomlinson found her voice in that kitchen.

When Boemer and co-owner Nick Rancone pushed Tomlinson to enter the national pork culinary competition Cochon 555, now known as the Heritage Fire Tour, her menu spoke to her roots: Swedish meatballs and a slice of apple pie.

It was a gutsy move in a competition imbued with swagger and French technique one-upmanship. The winning title was Prince of Porc — until that year. In 2018, Tomlinson was the first woman to win, stepping from the middle of the country to the national stage for the first time.

When Corner Table closed in 2019, Tomlinson was ready for her own place. When scouting locations, she crossed paths with James Brown. The commercial real estate agent, designer and restaurant owner who specializes in reinventing old spaces had heard that Tomlinson was considering a place where he saw major red flags and intervened.

An entrepreneur from an early age, Brown has made a business out of making (beautiful) things happen. “I realized you could do what you want — if you’re bold enough to try,” said Brown. He recognized a similar drive in Tomlinson.

“It’s a different kind of ambition. It’s not naked ambition — a determination,” said Brown. He signed on as Tomlinson’s business partner, and he knew just the place for her ideas.

A small space, sandwiched in a historic brick building around the corner from St. Catherine’s University in St. Paul, had all the potential and a long list of necessary upgrades.

Since it was 2020, and restaurant dining wasn’t an option, Brown led the construction efforts while Tomlinson taught Instagram cooking classes and appeared in the short documentary “A Woman’s Place.” Tomlinson opened the doors with small bites for takeout, but the ultimate goal would take her back to the place that felt like home.

During the drive out to Dassel-Cokato, Tomlinson is silent, immersed in her computer. But once she’s there, the city distractions evaporate and she’s fully present.

Teen mushroom farmer Kendra Kadelbach peppers conversation with her graduation plans, as she and Tomlinson foist giant bins of cloud-clustered oyster mushrooms into the bed of a truck.

Paul Erickson shares jars of sorghum along with stories from his grandfather’s heyday of making the funky-sweet syrup for the whole community, pressing stalks and slowly boiling it down for hours. He’s unsure they’re up for another season of the arduous process.

Tomlinson shares a quiet moment remembering Dan Nyquist, a friend and poetry-quoting farmer, who supplied Myriel with beets, a colorful egg bounty and inspiration.

Many of Myriel’s suppliers are part of Dassel-Cokato Sustainable Living; Tomlinson is a board member.

“She is such an advocate,” said Teresa Harmala, the group’s founder and executive director. “She’s done appreciation dinners for farmers out here. She understands and appreciates their importance. She’s a bridge between farmers and other people.”

Back inside Myriel, candlelight bathes the dining room’s wheat-colored walls and tables set with wildflowers. Menus aren’t available online, but Tomlinson has her reasons. “It’s not just for status,” she said. “When you come to Myriel, we’re inviting you into a whole story line. It’s not just the food.”

Guests can choose from three menus each night. There’s an affordable selection of bites in the bar and a more traditional menu of appetizers and entrees. But the event of dining at Myriel is the limited number of tasting menus, which average $179 per person.

Multiple courses are served in methodical succession. Ingredients are introduced by staff members, many of whom have worked for Tomlinson for years. They know the people who nurtured each ingredient, which the kitchen builds into complementary tastes and textures in an effort to create a perfect bite.

A recent dessert showcased crispy ribbons of parsnips, harvested by John Dahl and Richard Giebenhain. The vegetable spends winter in the ground, giving the sugars time to sweeten. Harvested just as the ground thaws, it’s a beautiful pairing with a touch of sorghum syrup over lush crème frâiche as a final bite. Swedish egg coffee is the preferred beverage pairing.

It’s in the attention to these small moments that Tomlinson’s measure of success is evident.

As much as the awards are a treasured appreciation from the industry she loves, success is shared with the farmers and Myriel’s diners. It’s a success built on the faith found in a garden, the promise of black soil under spring sunshine, the joy of harvest and the care in creating something that nourishes far beyond a single meal.

Myriel, 470 S. Cleveland Av., St. Paul, myrielmn.com