Mountain View (Piru) Inn
piruinn.com
691 Main Street
Piru, CA 93040
(805) 398-5059
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“I thought Piru was just the ARCO station on the 126.”
My first impressions of Piru were less than kind. When I was moving to Santa Paula from Pasadena seven (count them, seven!) years ago, the town of Piru (pronounced “pie-roo”) was a much-needed pit stop after navigating the series of construction “cattle chutes” known as Interstate 5. Piru hides in plain sight on the eastern fringes of Ventura County, its existence only hinted at by the ARCO station that sits at the intersection of the 126 Freeway and Main Street. It’s mostly a “stop and pee here” respite for weary drivers traveling between Ventura and Valencia/Magic Mountain.
At the time, an ARCO cashier took a distinct, if baffling, dislike to me. To this day, I have no idea why. I didn’t know her from Eve. I was always polite, never used the restroom without buying something. Maybe she took a distinct dislike to everyone who walked through the door. Regardless, she had a chip on her shoulder that you could’ve carved a Dutch doll out of.
So, I was always relieved to see the Piru ARCO fade to a vanishing point in my rearview mirror. I never thought I’d ever find a reason to visit the forgotten outpost.
Until recently, when I (re-)discovered Piru, and the Mountain View Inn, quite by accident. But not in a cool, “Indiana Jones” sort of way. I read an article about it in the local independent newspaper, the VCReporter. [hat tip]
After reading the article, I was determined to go back to Piru, embittered ARCO employees be damned.
Dale had no idea where we were going. He only knew that we were going to brunch and that I was driving. Oh, and that our dog, Ruby, was welcome. He rode shotgun with Ruby while I navigated out the 126 on a bright Sunday morning.
We passed through the town of Fillmore, which sits roughly halfway between Santa Paula and Piru, and marks the point at which traffic slows through a series of strip malls and stoplights. He thought maybe Fillmore was our destination. When we kept going, passing through the verdant agricultural fields along the highway, he commented, “This is a long way out.” Piru has that effect: It feels like you’re not just traveling through space, but back through time as well.
At last, we found the ARCO station and turned left up Main Street, cruising past newer housing developments and pleasant suburban streets. Quite different from the weathered but scrappy frontier town that, even well into the 1920s and 1930s, had only dirt roads, making it a prime shooting location for Hollywood films needing an Old West, “stagecoaches and cowboy boots” kind of vibe. To this day, Piru is home to ~2,500 souls. With the construction of more housing developments, though, its population could expand to 3,000 or more.
The Piru Inn wasn’t too much farther away, just a mile or so up the road, at the intersection with Center Street. From its parking lot out back, we could see its rolling green lawns and a patio area with tables and umbrellas. Brunch was already well underway.
The Inn’s back patio area.
I had seen pictures of the inn’s stately façade and lawn, but Dale needed an introduction, so I walked him around to the front entrance, up the front porch with its outdoor seating, into the lobby and reception area. One of the first things you notice is the low ceilings, vestiges of another time. The other thing you notice is how friendly the staff are, how genuinely happy to see you, dear stranger, dear friend. And your dog, too. We love dogs here. As we discovered, the staff love working there, and it shows. The atmosphere is relaxed and gracious—contentment writ large. Like Piru, the inn is experiencing a rebirth.
The Inn’s stately front entrance.
We chatted with a few locals over breakfast, one of whom said his family first settled in Piru back in 1880, and he had lived there nearly all his life. But even he hadn’t known about the inn until that day. Probably for good reason. The property served as a residential treatment home for 10 years before entrepreneur Ken Wisemen and his wife, Betty-Lou, bought it and spent more than a year doing extensive renovations, restoring it to its turn-of-the-century charm. It re-opened as an inn and restaurant in September 2024.
The inn shares property with its more famous cousin, the Newhall Mansion (also known as Cook Mansion), which is a premier wedding venue and has been featured in Hollywood productions such as The X-Files and Gilmore Girls. Both venues bring area history to life as part of Rancho Camulos, 1,800 acres of ranchland established in 1853 and now designated a National Historic Landmark for its connection to Helen Hunt Jackson’s 1884 book, Ramona — later turned into a Hollywood film starring “it girl” Mary Pickford. As we ate breakfast, Ken was showing some guests the film poster for Ramona. One of the inn’s nine rooms is called the Pickford Room for its frequent—and adorable—former guest.
As we settled in at our table, I glanced up one of the rooms that overlooks the patio. I couldn’t see much of anything through the window, but I definitely felt a prickle at the back of my mind. I tried to write it off as a pre-caffeine flight of fancy. I turned my attention to the menu. A few minutes later, I was gazing back up at that window. Hm…
The brunch menu’s star attraction was the shrimp and grits. Everyone, it seemed, was ordering shrimp and grits. The grits in particular were creamy, cooked until they formed a tender, pancake-like crust. Unfortunately, I’m allergic to shellfish, so I contented myself with little bites of the grits and an order of steak and eggs. The steak was tender, juicy, and flavorful, and the side of fingerling potatoes done just right. As we later discovered, the eggs are locally sourced (as in, right there in Piru) and completely organic — no antibiotics.
Out of curiosity, we ordered a third meal and took most of it to go: the short rib and sweet potato hash. The short rib melted in your mouth. The sweet potato, though, rather overpowered the savoriness of the dish. When I reheated it at home, I added some black and red pepper to balance the sweetness. And then I ate the whole damned thing. Yum!
Which is to say, it’s a minor nitpick. The food was delicious, our hosts charming and effusive. As the morning stretched on, we closed our tab and joined a tour being offered by general manager, Richard (Rick) McDaniel. (And by the way, if Rick can let us know where he gets his bountiful energy, we’d be much obliged.)
Rick introduced us to some of the inn’s history and let us see one of the beautiful first-floor rooms. (And yes, many of the rooms have pipes running through them—holdovers from the inn’s past.)
A first-floor room, where vintage and modern meet.
By 1:30, business was tapering off, so the staff started closing up. Even so, everyone, including Rick, was happy to chat with us. I asked about the inn’s alleged ghosts.
Room 3 on the second floor above the kitchen is known as the “cold room.” The heating system has been checked several times and deemed functional. Even so, the room stays cold, so much so that staff had to put in a portable heater.
There’s also apparently a ghost that wanders the first floor. That one isn’t felt as readily, but if it indeed exists, seems harmless enough.
And then there’s the one in Room 8.
“Which one is eight?” I asked.
The hostess pointed off to her right, toward the corner of the building where I had found my gaze wandering during breakfast.
“Oh!” I said, and left it at that.
At which point, the conversation turned to other matters, namely wine. Dale had mentioned that I’m a WSET Level 3 (wine specialist), and he himself is well-versed in California’s Central Coast and Santa Ynez wineries. Rick happily invited us to sample some of his inventory. And when I say “sample,” I mean that he opened and/or poured from no less than four bottles, including one from the nearby Heritage Valley winery, the only winery in Ventura County allowed to use that AVA. (Ventura itself does not have any other officially recognized AVAs, though it has several small vineyard sites and tasting rooms.)
Pro-tip: If you get a chance to pick Rick’s brain, do it. He has several years’ experience in wine and hospitality, is connected to several winemakers and wineries throughout California, and is himself a Level 2 sommelier. The restaurant’s well-rounded wine list is testament to that. And he’s grateful to have left the corporate world behind in favor of a much smaller, more intimate, and ultimately more rewarding venture.
Oh, did I mention that there’s a $10 discount for any bottle of wine taken “to go”? In this case, we bought a bottle of Oregon Pinot Noir “to go” out to the front porch. We were very graciously allowed to sit and enjoy our wine, even as the staff were locking up for the day. And then Rick brought us a second bottle, already opened. “Finish it, please!” * (Most restaurants don’t like keeping open bottles overnight.)
What started as “let’s have brunch” became an indolent afternoon of “let’s stay and watch the world go by.”
Dale and I toasted our great good luck. He smiled, leaned back in his chair, and said, “I think we’ve found our new hang.”
Contentment, writ large.
Life is easy on the gracious front porch.
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TIDS AND BITS
Brunch:
Saturdays and Sundays, 10:00 AM – 2:00 PM
Dinner:
Fridays and Saturdays, 5:00 PM – 9:00 PM
Also consider trying out this associated “café by day/bar by night,” located just around the corner on Center Street. They were shut down for the last couple of weeks for a film production but have since re-opened.
Open Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays.
(Bar closed on Sundays.)
NOTES:
* I have no idea if this is standard treatment, and we wouldn’t necessarily expect it at every visit. Still, we are gobsmacked and thankful for the generous hospitality.
The inn is already booked up for weddings through October. If you’re looking to book a regular stay, I recommend doing so well in advance.
