Experience Blackberry Farm and Blackberry Mountain

For decades, Blackberry Farm has nourished and welcomed its guests with a highly refined taste of the South. With a second, wellness-focused hotel now open, the Blackberry brand is branching out while staying true to its core.

Never underestimate the power of Instagram.

Soon after I post a picture of the apple-red Barn, the fine-dining restaurant at Blackberry Farm, the DMs and comments come flooding in.

• “Dying to go there!”
• “Been on my wish list!”
• “Sigh.”

I ogle hotels on Instagram all the time, and over the years I’ve noticed that certain places acquire a mythic quality—call it an oversize personality—on the platform. Properties like Amangiri, a luxury retreat dropped down like some alien spaceship among the red rocks of Utah. Or Le Sirenuse, an Amalfi Coast fantasy of bronze tans and ice-cold negronis. Everyone wants to visit these hotels, because everyone else seems to be having a better time there.

Blackberry Farm, a glamorous and welcoming celebration of Southern cuisine and culture in the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains, is such a place. At this 4,200-acre resort, you embrace a lifestyle filled with shooting clays, fly-fishing, and hiking in your Barbour. You can relax on huge white rocking chairs while taking in the lush green expanse of the Smokies. You may even encounter Insta-friendly animals—well-fed sheep, a couple of cows, and the hotel’s resident Lagotto Romagnolo water dogs—and feel compelled to share these moments with the world.

The Cuisine

The real draw, however, is the food: hearty and unpretentious, with dishes as simple as pimento cheese and fried chicken, and as delicately complex as a single garden strawberry topped with sorrel granita and vanilla olive oil. The resort celebrates what it calls “foothills cuisine,” which means rugged, refined cooking done with seasonal mountain ingredients, employing a long roster of artisans such as gardeners, cheese makers, and craft brewers to bring the style to life.

One family, the Bealls, is credited for creating this immaculate, highly curated experience. In 1976, Sandy Beall, the founder of the Ruby Tuesday restaurant chain, bought Blackberry Farm, then a rustic country estate. Soon, Sandy and his wife, Kreis, who decorated each of the main house’s rooms, opened the property to guests, welcoming them as though into their own home. Over the years, they expanded, adding a few cottages here and a spa there.

However, it was their son Sam who recognized that American palates were becoming more adventurous and refined, which indicated that sophisticated diners would begin seeking out farm-to-table cuisine. After stints at multiple high-end northern California wineries and restaurants, including the French Laundry, he returned home to open the Barn at Blackberry Farm, a fine-dining restaurant in a 200-year-old timber-frame structure. Both venues propelled Blackberry Farm to the top of the American hotel food chain, earning it a Relais & Châteaux Gourmand designation. Sam also tapped into a growing desire for genuine, unstuffy service, which is the norm in this rural pocket of eastern Tennessee, where many of the 600-plus staff members grew up nearby.

I first visited in October 2011, when the summer’s heat had passed, and the chestnut oaks and maples were awash in orange and red. The first morning, my husband and I shed our Manhattan personas and followed a fox hunt on foot. We met Sam, who looked like he’d stepped out of a Ralph Lauren ad as he played with a litter of puppies. I remember him thanking us for taking the time to visit, as if we had genuinely been inconvenienced.

The Evolution of Blackberry Farm

The Blackberry Farm of recent years feels different from the one I visited earlier. The wellness-focused Blackberry Mountain, a companion hotel that attracts a different type of visitor, opened in February, just 15 minutes from the original property. This project was one of Sam’s top priorities at the time of his tragic death in 2016. His absence is deeply felt, but Blackberry Farm has continued to push the boundaries of hospitality.

Cassidee Dabney, the executive chef of the Barn, leads me through the tidy rows of the three-acre organic garden, where the dozens of herbs, flowers, vegetables, and grains that supply her kitchen are grown. Even though dinner at the Barn starts in less than two hours, Cassidee is not in a rush. We stop to taste golden oregano. Then asparagus, so crisp and earthy that I wonder why anyone in their right mind would boil this vegetable.

A decade ago, farm-to-table dining was sufficient for guests, says the chef, who possesses piercing cobalt eyes and a direct, no-nonsense way of speaking. Currently, while it remains farm-to-table, it has become individually tailored for each diner. Consequently, dinner service now requires a new choreography. “Back in 2010, two tables a night had dietary restrictions,” explains Cassidee, who began her journey at the main house in 2005 and was promoted to her current position in 2015. “Now, 85 percent of my guests have a restriction.” The team accommodates various dietary needs, including dairy, vinegar, gluten, tree-nut, soy, nightshade, and garlic allergies, in addition to paleo, Atkins, keto, raw vegan, vegetarian, and kosher diets, among many others. “The restrictions have added about two hours of work every night,” says Cassidee, who developed a gluten intolerance herself this past year.

There is no doubt that Americans are rethinking their relationship with food, from how it affects their health to the impact of industrialized farming and overfishing on the environment. Moreover, we are becoming more comfortable expressing our preferences—thank (or blame) social media for that. To its credit, Blackberry Farm, as a hotel charging what it does (approximately $895 per night, including meals for one of the airy guest rooms), strives to be inclusive. Even though this demands more effort, Cassidee finds joy in playing mad scientist. After a local farmer recently delivered 40 pounds of mushrooms, she fermented and boiled the stems to create a sauce, which surprisingly tasted like Parmesan. It soon appeared on a vegan menu.

During two solo meals at the Barn, I found that its atmosphere has transformed as well. The chefs working in the open kitchen looked the same, and the air still carried a hint of wood smoke, but the background music was a touch louder and the crowd slightly younger. A party of eight became rowdy in a corner. A nearby couple, clearly on their honeymoon, exchanged anxious glances until they heard laughter from another table and relaxed.

Blackberry Mountain: A New Adventure

Blackberry still maintains its formal touches; the china is from Bernardaud and the monogrammed linen napkins are from Casarovea. However, no matter your question—like, just what exactly is a North Carolina guinea hen?—your server will not bat an eye. You’re a guest of the Bealls, and guests of the Bealls are free to ask anything.

One evening, I opt for a mostly vegetarian meal. First comes a delicately grilled buttermilk cheese, accompanied by green garlic, ramps, and garden broccoli, presented in an umami-rich broth that pairs beautifully with a Terres de Velle 2016 Chardonnay from Burgundy. Sean Beeler, a junior sommelier, shares the tasting notes, but I’m more interested in his personal story. His mother owned a local wine store, which led him to Blackberry, where he’s soaking in the experience—when he’s not at Walt Disney World, which also happens to be an obsession of mine.

The courses keep arriving. The special mushrooms that Dabney mentioned earlier then appear in a thick, incredible soup, topped with crispy shallots and thyme oil. I also enjoy a wood-grilled rib-eye cap, ordered mainly because it came with horseradish béarnaise. My three-hour dinner passes quickly, surrounded by servers and chefs who aim to create a pleasing experience for all guests.

The word wellness has infiltrated our vocabulary, alongside its spirit animal, Gwyneth Paltrow. I check in to Blackberry Mountain, Blackberry Farm’s new companion property, shortly after the actress and her Goopers complete a retreat there. “Having the most magical time at one of the nicest properties I have ever been to in my life,” Paltrow later raves on Instagram.

Launched in February, Blackberry Mountain is situated just seven miles from the Farm but at an elevation of 2,800 feet, spanning 5,200 acres in the Chilhowee Mountain ridge. This land, once the site of a lumber mill a century ago, had remained empty for years until it came up for sale in 2007. Fearing it might become a housing development, Sam, his wife Mary Celeste Beall, and other investors acquired it. They dedicated half to conservation and waited out the economic downturn to develop the other half. During this time, travelers increasingly sought wellness experiences, prompting the Bealls—to whom the great outdoors is an attraction—to develop a concept for an entirely different hotel.

Contrary to some expectations, Blackberry Mountain is not a destination for lounging. While I could easily fly there for the breakfast muffins, I find the meals serve merely as punctuation marks between a plethora of activities. The Mountain is a venue for adventure and reconnecting with nature; the Smokies envelop you, enhancing your entire experience. There are 25 miles of hiking and biking trails, plus a facility called the Hub, which boasts sleek spaces for hot yoga, rock climbing, pottery, TRX, and more. The crowd during my stay felt younger than at the Farm, primarily consisting of couples in their 30s and 40s.

One morning, I set out with Boyd Hopkins, the lead guide, to tackle Cat’s Paw Ridge, a 1.3-mile series of switchbacks and hills, while absorbing his encyclopedic knowledge of the landscape. One point three miles sounds easy until you attempt this challenging hike.

Boyd wears his hair long and loose, with small braids woven in. He speaks quietly, and I focus on his voice as the trek intensifies. He identifies plants like sourwood and mayapple, pink lady’s-slippers, and umbrella magnolias. We discover a glade of cinnamon ferns that have just unfurled in the spring sunshine. Boyd informs me about a scarlet tanager that flies up from Brazil every year. He also mentions that there are plenty of black bears in these woods, recounting an encounter with a pair of cubs he stumbled upon recently.

We reach a clearing with a view stretching all the way to Georgia, marked by a gigantic wooden troll carved by Danish artist Thomas Dambo. This bizarre Tennessee version of Mount Rushmore momentarily distracts me as I pose for a photo, trying to comprehend its presence.

Back at the Hub, I deliberate over which of the 24 classes I should join to enhance my well-being. Ultimately, I select TRX, cardio drumming, and hot yoga for an energy boost. Later, I try sound bathing with Chris Savell, an out-of-body experience that refreshes yet disorients me: halfway through, as Chris uses an “ocean drum,” I feel a tightness in my chest akin to a panic attack. However, it dissipates quickly, leaving me nearly asleep. Chris explains that my bad energy has been dislodged.

When not participating in classes, I retreat to my cabin’s deck with a book, appreciating the tranquility. Blackberry Mountain features 30 spacious cottages adorned with cozy touches, such as fireplaces and heated stone floors. They are clustered around the main lodge, which, made from timber and stone, includes an intimate spa where guests can indulge in herbal-poultice massages and acupuncture. As night falls, the ambiance transforms into a convivial summer-camp-for-adults atmosphere, cocktails flowing while guests share the highlights of their day.

For those seeking true serenity, the six Watchman Cabins, partially repurposed from a 19th-century log home at the mountain’s summit, offer Wi-Fi-free peace where television would feel utterly out of place. The main entertainment option is the Firetower, a bar and restaurant built around a circa-1940 lookout that provides panoramic views of the Smokies.

While the mountains capture your attention, it is the mist hovering over them that enchants you. You may come to Blackberry Mountain for rejuvenation through yoga or sound bathing, or perhaps for a soothing massage. Nevertheless, it is truly the views that will heal you.

More than one staff member describes Mary Celeste Beall as a force of nature and an inspiration. (You can follow her on Instagram: @marycelestebf.) Normally, I would be skeptical; however, having met her, participated in hot yoga, and hiked alongside her, I am a believer.

Mary Celeste met Sam in high school in Alabama. After his passing, her involvement in Blackberry Farm expanded significantly; although previously participating in aspects such as design and event planning, she was now responsible for day-to-day operations while also managing their five children. “Things are a little different now as a single mother,” she shares.

Following Sam’s death, Mary Celeste faced the challenge of maintaining the Farm’s high standards, leading a staff in mourning, and completing the Mountain project. “When Sam passed away, we hadn’t finalized the details,” she reveals as we set out on a morning hike. “As we continued evolving the resort, we conceived the Firetower restaurant and focused on the wellness aspect. I labored over every trail name.”

Mary Celeste frequently travels between the two properties. She meets with her team weekly, hosts retreats and events, and travels across the country to promote Blackberry’s offerings. Additionally, she manages to get her children off to school. “Taking over the hotels was probably life-saving,” she says. “If I hadn’t taken action, I might have been lying in bed, doing nothing, or micromanaging my children.”

On our hike, we converse about everything and nothing: the presence of poison ivy, raising kids, the younger demographic at the Farm, and Sam’s belief in moderation. Her mind races, sharing which Mountain trails would be suitable for my young son. She understands the challenges of being a working mother; sometimes, you desire to include your family in every adventure, while other times, you crave solitude.

I inquire about her personal experience with grief. “Everyone’s situation is different,” she responds, her voice wavering slightly. “Yesterday was a particularly challenging day for me, and I think it’s important to let others know it’s a journey, and that’s normal. Our life is wonderful, filled with inspiring moments, but there are hard days too. I want my kids to understand that experiencing a bad day is perfectly normal. Life isn’t always filled with sunshine. Our children witness celebrities winning awards and gracing red carpets, yet the reality is that they, too, face challenges.”

This sentiment resonates with Blackberry Farm and Blackberry Mountain as well. Many visitors choose to go because they see the appealing lifestyle on Instagram; however, when they arrive, they discover that what truly makes it remarkable is its authenticity—a real place inhabited by genuine individuals. It’s easy to root for Mary Celeste because she embodies sincerity. She doesn’t have the luxury of crafting a narrative to sell; instead, she offered me three hours of her time when she could have easily spared only five minutes.

On my final morning at the Mountain, I take a pottery class with Polly Ann Martin, who embodies patience. Polly Ann spent many years teaching at the 92nd Street Y in Manhattan, working with numerous stressed New Yorkers. Arriving with a sense of relaxation from the previous two days of dining and sound bathing, I also carry a hint of anxiety due to my long absence from pottery-making since high school. After Polly Ann reassures me that everything will be fine, I sit in front of the wheel, eager to begin.