meet patrick bruce,
the owner
Thistle didn't change hands. It changed stewards
Patrick walked into Thistle in 2010 with nearly two decades of hospitality experience behind him: from Spago at Caesars Palace, and opening Lupo at Mandalay Bay in Vegas, to Portland restaurants like South Park, Andina, and El Gaucho, where he originally met Emily, one of Thistle's founders. When Thistle opened in 2009, he told her: "If you ever put a bar in, let me know."
He came to Thistle to bartend a couple of days a week. Then he moved to McMinnville and never left.
For the next decade and more, Thistle became Patrick's home, where he worked the floor and the bar. Thistle won Oregonian Restaurant of the Year in 2011, and the next year tied with Portland's Teardrop Lounge for Oregonian Readers' Choice Favorite Bar.
But awards weren't what made the decade memorable. It was what Patrick witnessed from behind that bar. During harvest season, the room would fill with people from all over the world. A winemaker might walk in with a jeroboam of Beaujolais he'd just made and say, "Let's make cocktails out of this." Locals came back week after week, year after year. Even a couple got married by Patrick at the bar. People met at that bar and fell in love. Some of them got married; their kids are around now.
Thistle became a place where things happened, where lives intersected.
So when Emily needed to step away from running the restaurant, Patrick was the natural choice. He knew the rhythms, the regulars, the soul.
After Patrick took over, he chose preservation over change. Thistle's roots and philosophy, that's what mattered. And to Patrick, that meant protecting something you can't buy or manufacture. Not every restaurant has soul, you can feel it when you walk in. It's everything: the lighting, the vibe, the music, the people. As McMinnville's wine country evolves, Patrick wants to hold it down from an OG perspective, to preserve what Thistle has always been. Same 22 seats. Same farm relationships. Same commitment to the community that had become his home.
Patrick calls himself a facilitator. "My job is to make everyone look great," he says, referring to Thistle’s talented crew. His job is to give them what they need to shine. Guests feel that energy when they walk in; it comes from everyone here.
Most nights you'll find him on the floor now, not behind the bar. He needs to see the whole room and connect with every table. After sixteen years, the regulars notice. They tell him they miss seeing him behind the bar, which speaks to the relationships he's built throughout the years. But being on the floor means he can be everywhere, greet everyone, and make sure every guest feels seen.
"There's an older gentleman who comes in," Patrick says, his voice catching. "His wife had passed away. They used to come here together. She wrote a list of things he had to do after she was gone. Coming to Thistle was on the list."
He pauses.
"That's why I do this. That's worth more than any accolades."
meet john thomas,
the executive chef
from the ocean to the chalkboard
John didn't grow up dreaming about kitchens. But his summers spent commercial fishing with his grandfather out of Newport, on the Oregon coast, taught him everything that matters.
He was raised in Independence and Monmouth, Oregon, surrounded by farmers, loggers, and people who worked with their hands. During the summers, he'd head to the coast with his grandfather.
"One time I literally cut up a coho, and it made it into a cast-iron pan that was already preheating, as I was dressing it out of the ocean," John remembers. "It never left the boat. That's when I understood what fresh really means."
He grew up fishing, hunting, picking berries, and buying half a beef from family friends. If they ate it at home, they knew where it came from.
Before Thistle, John spent years working in restaurant kitchens - including a stint in Montana - but he was missing the deeper connection to sourcing he'd grown up with. That changed when he met Jason Fritz, who'd been Thistle's chef for over a decade. Fritz became his mentor, and when Thistle needed a new chef, he knew exactly who to call. Thistle already meant something to John. The first time he was able to treat his mom to a nice dinner, he brought her here. They sat at the cozy two-person table by the wall; Fritz was cooking that night. Now John's the one in the kitchen; he became Thistle's Executive Chef in July of 2025, at 28 years old, two years ahead of the goal he'd set for himself.
The menu changes daily because it’s the micro-seasons of the Willamette Valley that dictate what's available. The ingredients come first, then the menu follows. John works with 19 different Yamhill County suppliers - from farmers, ranchers, foragers, bakers, to a fishmonger. Throughout the week, deliveries arrive: microgreens on Mondays, sorrel on Thursdays, mushrooms from Amity. The fishmonger texts John when the catch is right. During the growing season, you’ll find John at the McMinnville Farmer’s Market, picking what looks best, and the menu starts coming together on the walk back to the restaurant.
His creativity comes from observation. Cantaloupe and hatch chilies ended up in the same bag - they became a dish. Blackberry vines grow around every cow pasture in Oregon - birds eat berries, perch on fence posts, and scatter seeds. So, blackberries and beef belong together. "If it grows together, it goes together," he says.
"Thistle for the people," he says. We want Thistle to be accessible to everyone - the partnering farmers who supply them, the local community that supports them, and the guests discovering and exploring McMinnville wine country.
That commitment to community has roots in John's childhood. Growing up in Independence and Monmouth, some of his earliest food memories came from the Hispanic community around him - grandmas whose names he never knew but whom he'd call Abuela, carne asada at backyard gatherings, street vendors selling oranges and tamales. You can taste those influences in his cooking. His rabbit rillette is a French technique studded with ancho and guajillo chilies. Not fusion, but honoring both traditions.
From his grandfather's boat, to a backyard carne asada, to that dinner with his mom - John found his home at Thistle.