Colorado's Wild Game Institution
Craftwood Inn has been serving Colorado game in Manitou Springs for more than four decades — long enough that the restaurant has become a kind of institution for the region, the place locals take out-of-town relatives when they want to answer the question "what does Colorado actually taste like?" The building itself predates the restaurant by generations: a 1912 Arts and Crafts inn of timber and stone, with original fixtures throughout, and a setting on the side of the mountain that makes the dining room feel dug into the landscape rather than set upon it.
The menu is anchored in wild proteins prepared with confidence rather than novelty. Grilled North American elk, seared loin of antelope, wild boar preparations, and Craftwood's signature braised venison sausage rotate through the seasonal menus. Wild game meatballs — antelope, red deer, and elk bound with black garlic puree — have become a recurring opener that out-of-town guests consistently ask to order again. For guests who prefer the sea, the striped bass and day-boat scallops are serious plates; Colorado rainbow trout is prepared simply and well.
The restaurant's wine programme leans into pairings that support the game: structured Cabernets, earthy Syrahs, and lighter Pinot Noirs for the trout and lamb. The sommelier is generous with guidance; the bottles have been accumulated over decades rather than assembled to a spreadsheet.
What to Order
First-time guests should start with the wild game meatballs and move to the mixed grill or a preparation of elk depending on appetite. The trout is unshowy and exemplary; the rack of lamb in a winter reduction is a perennial signature; desserts are classic American with a seasonal rotation. Ask about the chef's secret sauces — a phrase the menu still uses unselfconsciously, which tells you most of what you need to know about the restaurant's refusal to be anything other than itself.
The Atmosphere
Stone walls, dark timber, and the low crackle of a real fireplace. Craftwood Inn is warm in the way a great mountain lodge is warm — not performatively rustic but genuinely shaped by its era and its craftspeople. The dining room is quiet enough that the clink of cutlery against porcelain feels appropriate; tables are well-spaced; service is attentive without hurry. You leave with the faint smell of cedar and wood smoke on your coat, which is a reliable indicator that an evening in Colorado has gone correctly.