Ho-Chunk chef and advocate Elena Terry is preparing to open a new restaurant, Tall Grass, inside the Madison Museum of Contemporary Art later this year.

     The cafe-style space on State Street will bring together local ingredients, Indigenous food values, and opportunities for community learning and employment.

     Terry recently spoke with the Hocak Worak about the journey to opening the restaurant, the vision behind Tall Grass, and what it means to create an Indigenous-led space in downtown Madison.

     This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Can you tell me what inspired you to open a restaurant inside the Madison Museum of Contemporary Art?

They actually approached me about it. Before that, I had been in negotiations with the Ho-Chunk Nation for over two years, but we couldn’t come to an agreement on things that were really important to me, like permanent employment for participants in my Wild Berries program, focusing on Indigenous producers, and responsible sourcing.

Those were things I didn’t want to compromise on. This work has been my life for a long time, and I didn’t want to dilute that just to open a restaurant. After talking with our board of directors, we decided to rescind those negotiations.

At that point, we really needed a brick-and-mortar space. We had put everything on hold trying to work something out, and in the end we were left with nothing. I wanted to make sure that all the progress I had made with my nonprofit and personal mission wouldn’t be dissolved just to have a restaurant.

When MMoCA approached me, it was completely different. Everything I had been asking for in negotiations before, they already assumed would be part of the partnership. It was the first time I walked into a space and felt truly supported, not just as a person of color, but as a woman in this industry.

How would you describe the vision for the restaurant in your own words?

I was awarded the Taproot Fellowship in 2025 through the Alliance for California Traditional Arts (ACTA). It’s a national fellowship for traditional artists, and I was nominated as a chef, something that had never happened before. It acknowledged culinary arts as a real art form and me as a traditional knowledge keeper. We fight for visibility all the time in this industry, and that meant a lot. When MMoCA approached me, they said they saw my value as an artist. That’s one of the big reasons I chose this partnership.

The restaurant will be called Tallgrass, named after the tallgrass prairie ecosystem that ends in this region. We chose it to honor the land and the traditional area. It reflects my work with Wild Berries and our responsibility as stewards of the land.

Can you share some dishes or ingredients people can expect?

Not just yet. We’re still in the equipment and procurement phase. I’m a baker and a trained butcher, so those will be strong focuses. We’ll have fresh pastries using ingredients like squash flour and wild rice flour. Indigenous flavors will be present, but it won’t be an exclusively decolonized menu. There will also be a bar with specialty cocktails and a strong emphasis on local producers.

Right now, I’m meeting with growers and suppliers to figure out what ingredients I can sustainably source. Once I know what I can get in reliable quantities, I’ll finalize the menu. We’ll be changing it seasonally to respect sourcing and sustainability.

Will there be opportunities for youth or community members to train or work there?

Yes, absolutely. I do a lot of work with the James Beard Foundation as a Legacy Network Mentor. I was part of the first cohort, supporting BIPOC culinarians. One of my mentees is the Texas Tribal Bison Project, which is a food chain supplier. Through a stage (internship) program sponsored by Heinz, I’ll be able to bring BIPOC chefs to train with me once the restaurant opens.

We’ll also be doing rooftop catering at the museum, which allows for permanent but not full-time employment for people in my program. They can work special events like weddings and catering jobs. That was one of my biggest requests, that this space could provide permanent employment opportunities for people I’ve worked with. This restaurant will be an environment for learning and growth. It’s a dream come true to finally have a home base after years of operating Wild Berries without one.

How has your journey as a chef prepared you for this moment?

I didn’t start out as a chef. I worked in tribal politics and advocacy for 12 years. I have a degree in philosophy and political science and served as a tribal legislator briefly. When that wasn’t the right path for me, I went back to what I loved, restaurants. I worked three jobs as a single mom, six days a week, and I loved it.

I managed both Famous Dave’s locations in Wisconsin Dells and helped with the early development of Sundara Spa’s restaurant expansion. That taught me everything about operations, front-of-house, customer service, and large-scale food production. I also spent three months working with Sean Sherman helping open his restaurant. All of those experiences prepared me for this moment. I feel confident and capable of doing this work now.

What do you hope people say about the restaurant a year after it opens?

I hope people say it’s a place where good food and good conversation happen. When you drop the walls of race, politics, and differences and just share a meal, something changes. I want it to be inclusive, a space that builds community and celebrates art. Art has felt like a luxury lately, but this is exactly the time we need it.

In the mornings, we’ll offer pastries, coffee, smoothies, and grab-and-go items. Lunch will include salads and sandwiches made in-house with bread sourced locally. It will be high-quality but still accessible with a range of prices.

Is there anything else you’d like to add?

It’s incredibly humbling to be a Ho-Chunk woman opening a restaurant downtown near the Capitol and the university. That hasn’t happened before. I feel the responsibility of it, and it’s terrifying sometimes, but also beautiful. Growth happens when you’re uncomfortable. I haven’t lost my passion for the kitchen or the healing that happens there.

I didn’t have to leave my community to do this work. I didn’t have to move to Minneapolis or Chicago. I’m still here, still contributing to my community. That means everything to me.