The Ryland Inn has seen a lot since the 1980s, when Ronald Reagan visited for dinner. The restaurant’s glory days, to reference a song that shares a few things with the Ryland—both are Jersey classics—arguably happened decades ago, when chef Craig Shelton won a series of accolades previously unheard of in the Garden State. In 1995, it drew an “extraordinary” rating from the New York Times, the first ever awarded to a suburban restaurant. Then, in 2000, came a James Beard Award for best chef: mid-Atlantic.

When Shelton left the building in 2008, those glory days were becoming the wink in the young girl’s eye that Springsteen sings about. An economic downturn had hit the restaurant industry hard, and Old Man Winter further hobbled the Ryland with a water main break that flooded Shelton’s storied wine cellar.

Industry heavy hitters Jeanne and Frank Cretella of Landmark Hospitality bought the 10-acre estate in 2011 and got busy resurrecting the place. Because they weren’t in the business of lingering at the periphery of onetime greatness, the Ryland’s glory days seemed poised to return when the Covid pandemic shuttered the restaurant again. This fall, the newly named Landmark Tavern at the Ryland Inn reopened on the grounds of the onetime country home and stagecoach stop.

I visited twice; on both occasions, the sky was spitting freezing rain. But the dreariness of winter in New Jersey eased a bit when I got to the end of a long driveway that curlicued into the parking lot. Even behind a scrim of sleet, the Ryland’s pristine acreage rolls greenly in the distance. In Shelton’s day, an on-site garden grew some of the fruits, vegetables and herbs that won him culinary acclaim. That garden still stands, and current executive chef Daniel Brunina will pluck from it as the growing season gets underway, says Anthony Bucco, who heads up culinary operations for Landmark Hospitality.

Ryland Inn chef Daniel Brunina Photo: Cayla Zahoran

If you’ve been itching to try a place whose concept can be described as groundbreaking, you’ve chosen wrong. Established in 1796, the Ryland Inn is old-school fancy—a country club without the membership requirements, complete with equestrian art, a crystal chandelier massive enough to light the Prudential Center, and a tile-framed fireplace hulking enough to heat it. There’s a graceful bar that gleams with polished bottles set against a mirrored backdrop. The ceiling above it is a tic-tac-toe of expensive-looking wooden beams. It’s grand. It’s gorgeous. It’s not a place, you might feel, where you should be wearing sweatpants.

At a recent Sunday brunch, as my four dining companions and I shuffled from station to elegant station filling our plates with skillet-warm cinnamon rolls, made-to-order omelets, and salmon Wellington served by a friendly man wielding a giant carving knife, a jazz trio played familiar melodies. Back at the round table where a hostess had seated us, fresh coffee awaited.

Though the offerings that make a $49 brunch seem worth it—the carving station, the fat shrimp with homemade cocktail sauce, and the artisanal cheeses from local creameries—were uniformly great, I can’t stop thinking about a humble plum cobbler at the dessert station.

Warm plum cobbler Photo: Cayla Zahoran

Dinner brings a share of delights, too. When the lights go down, romance enters the room. Each table is outfitted with its own small lamp, and the bonhomie at the bar, plus the sweep of gentle live music, set a scene for Cupid to fling some arrows. When our waitress introduced herself with an amuse-bouche of creamy squash soup, my partner and I were holding hands across the table.

The kale and Swiss chard chopped salad, with its salty feta and drizzle of bright vinaigrette made with charred lemons, brought a one-two punch of flavors and colors. My partner smartly ordered the Ryland burger, which we’d heard was a favorite. When it came, we understood why; it’s a work of misshapen art parked in a brioche bun, its melted Comté cheese and cognac onions sharing the outer edges of the spotlight with a warm, juicy blend of short rib and chuck at center stage.

The Ryland burger, on a brioche bun, comes with Comté cheese, cognac onions, a kosher dill spear, and french fries or a green salad. Photo: Cayla Zahoran

The other entrée we ordered—a spiced cauliflower steak—was plated beautifully.

My dining companions and I were eager to come back—for the setting, the food and, not least, the service. That service was so warm and down-to-earth that, for a second, I forgot I was in a place with a history that involves introducing haute cuisine to New Jersey.

HOW WE REVIEW: Restaurants are chosen for review at the sole discretion of New Jersey Monthly. For our starred fine-dining reviews, our critics visit a restaurant at least twice with a guest, always maintaining anonymity to avoid preferential treatment, and the magazine pays for their meals. Stars are assigned by the dining-section editor in consultation with the reviewer.

Four stars = extraordinary; three stars = excellent; two stars = very good; one star = good; half a star = fair.

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