Jean-Claude’s Mountain Stammtisch
INSIDE THE MOUNTAIN WINE HUT
A Local’s Corner in the Heart of the Valley
Stammtisch → the table reserved for the regulars, often with its own culture, jokes, and traditions.
A local’s space from long‑time Vail Valley resident Jean‑Claude Moritz — where the fire’s always warm, the wine’s always poured, and the stories flow as easily as conversation.
Let’s share a glass of Glühwein and talk about the things that make this valley special.
I grew up in the restaurant business — it’s in my blood. I’ve always admired anyone who works that hard, who shows up early, stays late, and keeps the lights on for everyone else. I loved the social rhythm of restaurants: the laughter, the chaos, the community.
My parents moved here in 1966, and we’ve been part of this valley ever since. I’ve seen it grow, change, and evolve — and I’m grateful for every person who’s come through, stayed awhile, or moved on. Each one has shaped the spirit of this place.So pull up a chair, pour yourself something good, and settle in.
This stammtisch is for locals, visitors, and anyone who loves the mountain life — the people, the stories, and the shared warmth that keeps us all connected.
Jean-Claude's Mountain Stammtisch, nestled in the winter landscape
La Tour Restaurant, a beloved Vail Valley landmark
La Tour Restaurant — “This One’s Personal”
“A Remarkable Place, A Remarkable Loss”
La Tour Restaurant has always been more than a place to eat — it has been part of the heartbeat of the Vail Valley. My parents, Walter and Marie‑Claire Moritz, created La Tour from scratch, building it with their own hands, their own vision, and their own relentless commitment to excellence. Years later, Paul and Lourdes Ferzacca took over the restaurant, honoring what my parents built and carrying La Tour forward with tremendous care, creativity, and consistency. They ran it beautifully for decades, right up until its closing a few weeks ago. That continuity — from my parents to the Ferzaccas — is part of what made La Tour so special.
For me, La Tour was a second home. I worked nearly every job in that building: dishwasher, prep cook, chef, bartender. Along with my brothers, I learned the rhythm of the kitchen, the pressure of a packed dining room, and the pride of doing things the right way. It was a place where locals gathered, celebrated, argued, laughed, and connected. La Tour wasn’t just a restaurant — it was a social anchor for the valley, a place where people felt part of something. I was there. I could “feel” it.
Some of my most meaningful memories come from working alongside my dad. We argued, we laughed, we learned from each other, and I saw sides of him that only come out in the intensity of a kitchen. His work ethic was legendary — he’d start at 5 a.m., finish at midnight, then wake up early again to do the bills before heading back to the kitchen to bake his famous french bread. My mother, Marie‑Claire, brought the warmth and hospitality. She was social, gracious, and had a natural way with people. Together, they created a place that felt alive. I really miss those days even though it was a tough business to be in.And during the hard years — the recession, the seasons with no snow, the times when the valley struggled — La Tour meant something even more. It meant stability. It meant survival. It meant that, no matter how tough things were outside, we had something on the table at home to eat. I’ve never forgotten that. It’s one of the quiet truths behind the restaurant’s legacy: it sustained not just the community, but our family too.
After some of the other restaurants in the valley closed over the past few years, a friend on Facebook commented that “things change.” And they do. I get it. But hearing that made me lock in those memories even more — the laughter, the arguments, the long nights, the smell of bread baking before sunrise. I held onto them tighter, knowing how quickly the familiar can disappear. It happens in a resort town all the time. Turnover is crazy. I have a hard time with it but I get it. Hospitality is a tough, tough business.
When my wife and I had dinner at La Tour in March, we didn’t know it would be our last meal there. In a moment of lighthearted nostalgia, I even asked the bartender — jokingly — if they’d be willing to sell the bar. Just a bit of fun, a bit of sentiment. What a coincidence, looking back now. We were lucky to sit in that room again, lucky to feel the energy that made it special, lucky to experience the care and craft that Paul and Lourdes continued to bring to every service. Walking out that night, I felt grateful. Now, I feel something closer to heartbreak. Ugh.
La Tour was remarkable — not just because of the food or the service, but because of the people, the history, and the countless moments that happened within its walls. Its closing marks the end of an era in the Vail Valley. But the memories, the lessons, and the legacy my parents began — and that Paul and Lourdes carried forward so faithfully — will always remain.
Thank you to all the people that are and were part of La Tour. Bless you!
-Jean-Claude (JC) Moritz