Asher on Aspen: The Wild Fig reborn

Aspen nights have a way of drawing you out, and The Wild Fig’s patio might be the best place to soak them in. Freshly relocated just around the corner from its original space, the restaurant hums with an energy that feels both familiar and refreshed — checkered black-and-white floors underfoot, bordeaux-red booths lining the walls, old-world lanterns, and a patio alive with chatter and clinking glasses. On this particular night, I found myself there with my sister Emily, in from New York, and two local friends, Jett and Alayna — curious to see if the Fig’s famous charm had made the move, too.

The Wild Fig has always been one of Aspen’s darlings — and for good reason. For nearly 30 years, it has been known for serving dishes inspired by France, Spain, Italy, and Greece — all with the ambiance of a classic brasserie. Out on the patio, we sat in a leafy enclave of plants and greenery, perfectly positioned for Aspen’s go-to indulgence: people-watching. Classical music played in the background, faint but certain, like a film score written just for us.

We started with burrata and prosciutto, paired with fresh figs, balsamic, and warm grilled ciabatta. Jett loved it more than anything else we tried that night, calling it the best thing he’d eaten all week. I chased it with a ginger margarita, sharp and sweet in equal measure, the perfect antidote to the week’s grind. Then came the oysters, briny and fresh, and Emily and Alayna were clearly fans, finishing two rounds in no time.

Halfway through the meal — just as the wine was loosening tongues — Alayna’s fork froze in midair. Her eyes went wide, her jaw dropped, and she pointed: A massive bear was ambling through the center of downtown Aspen. He paused briefly, sniffed the air, and kept moving, completely ignoring the stunned diners on the patio. Roars of amusement and gasps erupted around the table, half disbelief, half delight, while Emily clutched her napkin and whispered that she could finally cross “see a bear” off her bucket list. The bear didn’t glance at us once, a furry reminder that in Aspen, even fine dining can come with an unexpected visitor.

For the mains, we split our choices down the middle. Two of us went for the tortellini, stuffed with tomato and goat cheese, tossed with sautéed spinach, oyster mushrooms, and grilled asparagus. The other two went for the filet mignon, a perfectly cooked 8-ounce cut with a rich cognac green peppercorn sauce, served alongside the Wild Fig’s famously crisp frites. Every bite was a reminder to savor the food — flavors layered and precise, impossible not to appreciate. Drinks were raised, laughter flowed, and the warm evening settled around us like a good story you don’t want to end.

Dessert was a sweet landing after the spectacle — a cheesecake so smooth it could’ve doubled as silk, and a chocolate ganache so rich it dared us to keep going, spoonful by spoonful, even as our bellies protested. We lingered over it, laughter spilling between bites, stories weaving from old memories to the absurdity of the bear sighting, glasses refilled, and conversations flowing as easily as the wine. The night felt like one long, delirious toast to everything that makes Aspen absurd, wild, and completely unforgettable.

The Wild Fig is no ordinary dinner — it’s a mood, a taste of Europe with a uniquely Aspen twist. On nights like this, with friends around the table, classical music in the air, and a bear wandering nearby, it becomes more than a restaurant. It becomes an experience, a story you’ll tell again and again, swearing it was just as surreal and delicious as you remember.