A Sunshine State Surprise: Farm to Fork in Florida

At certain points in life, we think we know the world. For many of us, this smugness springs from an age-related belief that we know places completely, that we’ve got them figured out.  

But sometimes, we discover we were mistaken. 

And so it was with me and Florida. As with more than a few Americans, I suffer from a complicated relationship with the so-called Sunshine State. I’ve been traveling there since the late 1970s when Disney World was a novelty and Epcot Center was a swamp inhabited by alligators.

During near annual trips as a kid, I visited snowbird grandparents near Tampa and spent most of my days at a beach. Some years later, I explored Miami before a cruise and on assignment to cover a music festival. And then there were multiple long weekends spent with a pack of sun-seeking cousins and siblings in Winter Park after an aunt and uncle moved there. 

In the course of dozens of trips, I found Florida to be a greener, swampier, and slightly more subdued version of hedonistic, flashy, and luxe-loving Las Vegas. Sure, the third state to join the Confederacy lacked the massive casinos and glitzy shows of its dusty Nevada sibling, but it had something of the same in-it-for-the-money, all about entertainment, schlocky feel. 

Both spots’ raison d'être is to appeal to masses of tourists by transporting them to a fantastical vacation-land featuring dozens of diversions such as alligator farms, wading flamingos, mock pirate ship battles, or Cirque du Soleil shows and platters of cheap buffet food (illuminated by amber lighting that wouldn’t look out of place on Mars.)

If food in Vegas a few decades ago consisted primarily of giant all you can eat buffets, food in Florida was hardly gourmet either. Aided by the occasional seafood shack, Cuban sandwich shop, or ubiquitous grouper sandwich, the Sunshine State’s culinary cupboard was only slightly better. 

And so after decades of trips to the Sunshine State and its ho-hum restaurants, I was pleasantly surprised during a recent visit to discover a farm to fork restaurant—on an actual, functioning farm!

Nestled into verdant farm country inland from the Gulf Coast, Rosy Tomorrow’s is an easy drive from Fort Meyers. Operated by Rose O’Dell King, a former sheep farmer and chef, the farm and restaurant represent the best of the last few decades’ movement to source locally and responsibly. 

Palmetto and pine-studded pastures, stables, gardens, and a patio surround the airy, warmly-lit restaurant. Instead of solid walls, a lofty, barn-like structure features floor to ceiling screened windows (this is Florida, after all) with views of vibrant green pastures, wandering ducks and chickens, and white fenced paddocks with cattle, goats, and pigs. 

And speaking of livestock, some of them travel a distance from pasture to table that can be measured in yards, not miles. It’s one of the shortest farm to plate journeys I’ve experienced. 

A fetching setting, ethical treatment of animals, sourcing of food from other local farmers and purveyors, and storybook surroundings don’t matter much if the food isn’t as sublime as the setting. At Rosy’s, the seasonal offerings are as good or better than the concept and surroundings. 

Here you’ll find unique farm to table treats, such as mangrove salt harvested twice annually, and fresh, sustainably sourced seafood, including plump gulf shrimp and mangrove snapper. Summertime brings fruits, turmeric, ginger, and water-grown wasabi. Winter’s cool produces sweet peppers, beets, kale and sugarcane. 

Still, this is Florida. During our visit, as we sipped cocktails and watched the sun drop behind palms and moss-draped trees, the sound of gunfire erupted in the distance. 

Shooting range? Hunters? Someone shooting off their guns for fun? Who knew? 

Thankfully, the shooting subsided and we were soon back to enjoying our drinks with just the evening song of birds and the occasional lowing of cattle. 

Please note: Rosy’s is temporarily closed; however, you can still pick up food boxes and stroll the grounds. Check the website to order food or to see when the restaurant is reopening. 

Pandemic Travel: Michigan, Paradise in My Backyard

In this pandemic-era of constricted travel and hemmed-in horizons, those of us hard-wired to travel couldn’t be faulted for falling into a fit of gloom. Many of the places we’ve longed to finally visit or pined to return to are unreachable or associated with risk. 

Michigan's The Fields.

During the past year or so, I reminded myself that I’ve got options. We all live someplace, after all, and though we may have the urge to board a flight that requires a passport or wander further afield, destinations in our own backyards merit discovering—or, in my case, rediscovering. 

While national travel and lifestyle magazines tell us there are only certain places in the world worth visiting, this is certainly untrue. In my case, influencers and tastemakers have long suggested that the Midwest has little more than the mundane to offer, but they’re misinformed. 

Case in point: during my childhood, one of my family’s annual summer vacations included a trip to the fern-carpeted, pine-scented woods of northern Michigan. In mid-summer, my parents would pack our paneled station wagon with me and my four siblings, swimsuits, inflatables, and shorts, and drive to my paternal grandparents’ house, the final few hours of our drive on near-empty, narrow state roads lined with thick forests after the interstate ended in Grand Rapids. 

Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore.

My grandparents’ house, surrounded by stands of birch interspersed with deep green pines, sat back from the edge of a steep dune overlooking a small cove. The scallop shaped cove, framed by immense trees and littered with reeds, fallen logs, and lily pads, offered a glimpse of a large, cobalt blue lake just beyond a narrow channel. 

A thick wood of birches and pines behind the house rose from an ancient seabed now carpeted in sand swales, ferns, and blueberry bushes. We typically forged our own paths through the seemingly endless woods, ever watchful for bears—which we both did and did not want to encounter—along with sweet, wild blueberries (which we weren’t conflicted about encountering.) 

Summer days at that latitude only dissipate toward midnight, the sun’s final rays burnishing the evening clouds before giving way to a vast, ink-black sky blanketed with glittering stars. My siblings and I spent the seemingly endless hours of these dreamy days in a boxy, simple boat with heavy creaking oars hunting for turtles, frogs, and bullfrogs which we caught and released in the cove while the warm August sun browned our backs. 

When we weren’t rowing around the cove, we swam in crystalline lakes, picnicked, hiked, and always, always visited nearby Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. At the park, my siblings and I would somersault and tumble down ancient dunes the height of skyscrapers and then spend hours exhausting ourselves climbing back up. My parents and grandparents watched from shady, picnic table aeries, likely amused and undoubtedly happy that we had worn ourselves out and would fall asleep in the return car trip. 

There were visits to pine-paneled, clamorous supper clubs where everyone dressed for dinner. Late afternoon stops at ice cream shops featured flavors like Blue Moon and premises-churned ice cream long before anyone thought that was something worth promoting. Occasionally, my grandfather piled us into his tank-like car and brought us to a North Woods bar where he sipped Hamm’s or Pabst beer while my siblings and I, perched awkwardly on barstools, slurped Shirley Temples.  

Leland's historic Fishtown. 

When the pandemic reduced O’Hare flights to a trickle, closing off much of the world I’d previously so easily wandered, I suddenly found Michigan on my mind. In truth, I’d longed to return for decades—my childhood memories never having faded—but I’d postponed visiting. After all, Michigan was easy to get to. And I’d spent a few decades seeking out spots that were remote and difficult to visit.  

At that moment, I realized the pandemic provided a golden opportunity to see Michigan spots I’d visited as a child, and to discover new places that had appeared in the meantime. 

In the decades since my childhood, plenty of other Americans have somehow discovered some of these places. Summer cottages in the pristine, tranquil Leelanau Peninsula are as likely to be owned by heat birds from Dallas or Atlanta as nearby Detroit or Chicago. 

Still, it’s an uncrowded, tranquil corner of the world largely overlooked by glossy magazines and Instagram influencers. And, undoubtedly, like enticing corners of the world near you, it’s easily reached and certainly worth a visit. 

Instead of viewing the pandemic as a scourge for traveling, maybe it presents the perfect opportunity to explore—or revisit—those special spots that exist in every corner of the world, including in our own backyards. 

Western Michigan Picks:

Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore For hiking, scenic drives, pristine beaches, and dune hikes for wearing out the kids.

Leland Lodge For strolls around the quaint village of Leland and golfing. TIP: Don't bother with the dingy, overpriced private cottages. https://www.lelandlodge.com 

Lakeside Inn This rustic, former artist colony inn, less than two hours from Chicago, sits on a bluff overlooking Lake Michigan. Think beach walks, easy drives to nearby quaint towns and restaurants, and campfires. 

Fields of Michigan Glamping with all the fixings—campfires, luxe bed linens, hot water, bike rides through farm country. TIP: Arrange for the private dinner cabin nestled on the edge of a deep green, fairy tale wood.

Virtue Cider Limited release ciders, cidery tours, and light fare surrounded by orchards and bucolic farms. 

Saugutuck Somehow charming despite swarms of tourists. TIP: For Michigan-made bespoke jams and preserves, visit American Spoon. 

Isabel’s Sublime baked goods and sausages, sandwiches and prepared foods to take away or eat on the patio. 

The Lakeside Inn.

  

Virtue cider.

The Fields of Michigan. 

Southwest Michigan is known for its blueberry farms. 

Alaska’s Hotel Captain Cook: Delight-Inducing Homage to the Age of Exploration

In the past few decades I've visited Alaska four times—but three of those visits were taken around 1990 (yes, essentially 30 years ago, if you’re doing the math). During those trips, I explored the Kenai Peninsula, Denali, Anchorage, and pretty much any spot accessible via paved road. I even drove the spectacularly scenic and solitary highway that parallels the Alaska Pipeline and links inland Fairbanks to coastal Valdez on Prince William Sound.

After three trips, I decided I’d seen everything there was to see, including every corner of Anchorage, the state’s largest city.

When I visited Anchorage recently, however, I realized I’d overlooked a spectacular spot smack dab in the city center.  Despite at least six previous stays, I somehow missed the sublime and historic Hotel Captain Cook. Set on the edge of downtown and overlooking the Cook Inlet, Anchorage’s best hotel is named for the British seafarer who explored the area and the Pacific Ocean in the 1700’s.

To me, history and pedigree are all good, but what sets the hotel apart is that quality that’s difficult for hotels anywhere to attain: absolute uniqueness. While Captain Cook’s exterior is rather bland and unremarkable (which might be the reason I overlooked it during previous visits), its interior, inspired by the classic wooden ships Cook sailed, couldn’t be more spectacular.

From a beamed breakfast room that resembles a below deck dining mess to corridors lined with original oil paintings depicting Cook’s travels and the peoples he encountered, the hotel is a romantic tribute to the Age of Exploration and a celebration of the rich cultures and dramatic landscapes of the Pacific Rim.

While the lobby and public areas were the chief sources of my delight, the rooms weren’t so bad either. With stylish and Pacific-themed décor, rooms approximate posh but lack the original art of the hotel’s public areas. That’s okay, though, as many offer dramatic views of the adjacent Cook Inlet (look for the ghost-like shapes of beluga whales in the water just below and snow capped volcanoes in the distance).

The restaurant that crowns the hotel offers the best views and finest fare in the state. On the main floor, expertly poured cocktails in the English pub-like restaurant are matched with decent food, though bar TVs distract from what is otherwise an aura of a previous era.

The hotel’s service is sometimes spotty. But that's easily overlooked, given the hotel's art and unique atmosphere. If you like hotels with a scintillating sense of place, don't follow my lead--visit on your first trip to Alaska.

Under the Umbrian Sun: A Villa in a Less Crowded Corner of Italy

In the 1980s, I wandered around Europe with a small group of high school and college friends. Aligned somewhat with our graduations from college, the trip served as our initiation into independent travel.

Italian villa rentals often feature a garden, balcony,
courtyard, or loggia. 

To commemorate an anniversary of our trip, most of our original group (plus a few spouses and children) planned a reunion trip.

Since my first trip, I’ve been visiting Italy regularly, but have grown increasingly dismayed to find that many corners of the country have grown ridiculously crowded. While the major cities of Rome, Florence, Venice, Milan, Siena, and Sorrento are tough to beat for history, charm, and culture, they’re also teeming with tourists, particularly during summer months. And with all the crowds, I find it increasingly difficult to experience that sweet sense of la dolce vita—one of my primary joys of visiting this Mediterranean country.

I realize the topic of crowds of tourists isn’t exactly late breaking news. Recently, there have been more than a few articles discussing crowds pushing top sites to the breaking point. Just how many visitors can fit into Piazza San Marco or Florence’s duomo, they ask?

The ancient town of Orvieto sits atop a hill in
the southwest corner of Umbria.

The good news is that you don’t need to find out. By opting to explore some of Italy’s less crowded, but equally historic and charming corners as we did, you’ll spend less time in queues and have more time to experience la dolce vita—as well as the charm, history, food, and drink that are integral parts of any trip to Italy.

For our most recent trip, we rented a house in the rolling hills of Umbria and cars to explore the surrounding countryside, including spots in nearby Tuscany. While Tuscany’s golden and rolling, cypress-studded hills are what you probably imagine when someone says “Italian countryside,” there’s more to that than Tuscany. Umbria, an often overlooked—and uncrowded—region, is right next door.

During our week’s stay, day trips were no more than an hour’s drive and included Cortona, Assisi, Orvieto, Cittá della Pieve, Cetona, and several smaller villages so tiny they consisted merely of a cluster of stone homes, a church, and sometimes the ruins of a small castle or tower. With the exception of Assisi, none of these towns was crowded. And even popular Assisi offered many quiet streets and—critical to the coffee and wine drinkers among us—plenty of empty seats at café tables.

The columns of a Roman temple in the
heart of Assisi. 

In order to enjoy the charming villa, shady pergola and refreshing pool—all of which offered soul-expanding views of the countryside—we typically spent mellow mornings lounging in the loggia and then headed for a nearby town between 11:00 and 2:00. Several times, we spent late afternoons in towns such as Orvieto and Assisi and then had early dinners in notable restaurants before wending our way back to the villa. On several evenings, we finished the day with a nightcap on the lawn under a sparkling blanket of stars.

Though we weren’t dealing with the crowds of Rome or Venice, our trip wasn’t stress-free. A primary source of this stress was confronting the daily question of what to do: stay in the villa and soak up its charm and that of the rolling, sun-kissed countryside or explore the alluring villages and small cities of Umbria? Unlike so many other decisions in life, there was no wrong answer.

Oh, and then there was the stress of losing internet access. When none of the adults could connect, we chalked it up to unreliable service. As it turned out, the cause of the disruption was a few teenaged girls who absconded with the wireless modum so they could more easily (and privately) text boyfriends back home.

Our villa rental offered expansive views of verdant Umbrian countryside.

For the few evenings we prepared simple dinners at the villa, we started with sundowners on a terrace with the surrounding countryside bathed in yellow, gold, and orange. And then we sat down under a jasmine covered pergola for simple pasta dinners we prepared from ingredients we found at local stores and markets. There was wine and candlelight and plenty of storytelling and laughs.

Between these memorable dinners and the ones we enjoyed at restaurants in nearby towns and villages, I experienced plenty of la dolce vita—set to birdsong and laughter and without crowds of tourists.

To plan your own villa trip in Italy, see below.


Tips for a Villa Vacation in Italy:

• Fly into a major city and pick up a rental car at the airport or take the train to the city closest to your villa and rent a car there. We also often stay a few days in a city on either or both ends of a week’s villa stay. 
• There are several sites that offer villa rentals across Italy. Make sure to research the location—some villas can be remote. We prefer rentals that are a 10 to 15 minute drive to a nearby town or small city. For rentals located in sleepy villages that offer restaurants and stores within walking distance, you can up the relaxation factor by walking more and reserving the car for longer excursions. 
• Umbria has more than its fair share of excellent restaurants. Plan your visits so that you can stroll a village during the day and have dinner at a restaurant before heading back to your villa. 
• First visit to Umbria? Take in Assisi, Orvieto, Citta della Pieve, Cortona (just across the across the border in Tuscany), and Cetona. 
• Renting a villa in the country can have some disadvantages. Wifi wasn’t the most reliable and the signal only usable in half of the first floor and adjoining terrace. And some villas can be very remote which can mean 15 to 30 minute drives to the closest grocery store or village. 
• Many villa rental agencies offer a grocery box to get you started. Order it. You’ll get eggs, coffee, bread, and other necessities to make the first morning enjoyable. In many cases, rentals begin on Saturday afternoons and given that many stores are closed on Sundays, it’s a good way to make your first villa day a relaxing one. 
• For Italian villa rentals, try Ville in Italia or Villa & Charme. 
• Visiting Rome on your way into or out of Italy? Visit the old school and positively delightful Armando Pantheon in the supposedly haunted shadows of its namesake ancient pagan temple. (Reservations are essential.) 

Restaurants in Umbria: 

• Orvieto: Trattoria del Moro (Ask for a table in the room in the middle or back—avoid the front room) 
• Città della Pieve: Trattoria Bruno Coppetta 
• Assisi: Ristorante Valerie
• Cetona: Osteria del Mero

Amsterdam’s Pulitzer: A Prize for Redefining Posh

The best way to experience the canals? The Pulitzer's vintage boat.

I’ve visited Amsterdam several times in the past 30 years. And with each visit the city grows more interesting (and no, I’m not talking about the Red Light District). Years ago hotel options were basic and tiny, grand and fussy or, when I visited in 1986, well, Spartan and sterile (as in a youth hostel.)

These days, hotel options in the historic city offer much more variety. While the storied, grand hotels for which Europe is known remain, they have creative competition from contemporary spots that redefine luxury. Of course, what does “luxury” even mean anymore? Does it mean silk draperies, plush carpets, servile service, and Louis XIV armchairs? Or maybe today the concept has progressed beyond pretension and fluff and landed in a world equal parts Alice in Wonderland, old school luxury hotel, and creatively-styled, non-chain hotel.

During a recent visit, I stayed at just such a place—The Pulitzer, a one-of-a-kind, quirky hotel smack dab in the center of the old city center. Housed in a cluster of Golden Age canal houses cobbled together and huddled around an expansive courtyard, the hotel manages to be au courant, historic, and refined.

The charm and character here don’t come cheap, however. To save some euros, book a “cosy room” with a view of the courtyard garden. No canal view, you whine? Well, I stayed in such a room with giant windows providing expansive views of the charming gardens, church tower, and jumble of classic Dutch rooftops. But the best part of the room was the birdsong and church chimes that serenaded me in the mornings.

Besides, Amsterdam’s canals are often loud and sometimes traversed by party boats. (Seriously, wouldn’t you prefer a view of a charming courtyard garden the sound of birdsong—while saving those euro for some gouda, or other Dutch treats?)

And speaking of treats, no matter whether you lay your weary head to rest in a canal or garden room, you’ll be subject to a never-ending supply of delectable stroopwafels—a cookie of two thin layers of baked dough with a cavity-inducing, caramel syrup filling.

And what should you drink with this surfeit of stroopwafel? Well, rooms come with a supply of small batch coffees roasted for the hotel and an assortment of premium teas. Though rooms are relatively small, they’re full of well-designed touches like portholes, settees, and art (both contemporary and antique). And because this is Amsterdam, an old school bike tire repair kit is included—perhaps the most unique amenity anywhere.

The Pulitzer's private garden.

Breakfasts in the hotel’s Junz restaurant are ethereal as morning light cascades through the large mullioned windows of the restaurant’s rooms. In the evenings, the Pulitzer Bar is a destination for locals and tourists alike. While the bar’s cocktail program isn’t exceptional, it’s adequate. The real attraction is the fetching design of the rooms and the crowds of happy-go-lucky Dutch who don’t seem to notice—or care.

Intimate Bussia sits steps from the Pulitzer.

Looking for restaurants to complement your sublime stay here? Just around the corner sits Bussia, a small Italian restaurant with a limited, seasonal menu. An upper gallery and open kitchen compete for attention with the street scene outside the large windows. Reservations essential.  

Further afield is the Michelin-starred Het Bosch which boasts views of a small harbor and marshes (and summer sunsets that last hours). Reservations essential.

A Last Hurrah: Experiencing Amsterdam's storied canals is a must. Tour boats ply the centuries-old waterways, offering cheap food and mugs of Heineken. Wish to avoid jostling cheek to jowl with boatloads of other tourists? Well (and doesn’t it figure?), Pulitzer guests have a fetching option: the hotel’s vintage wooden boat. Take one of the regularly-scheduled complimentary cruises with cash bar or even better, book a splurge-worthy, private putter.

Barcelona's Great Beyond: Coastal Villages, Stellar Restaurants

When I first visited Barcelona in 1986, the somewhat sleepy Mediterranean city had only recently emerged from the fog of decades of relative isolation under the dictatorship of Franco. At that time, the city was gearing up for the 1992 Olympics which ultimately transformed the somewhat gritty port into a cosmopolitan city overflowing with tourists. And in the intervening decades, that flow has become a tsunami (so much so that the city is considering limiting access to tourists).

Besalú and its 11th century bridge.

Should that happen, don’t fret. As I was reminded during a recent trip, the region of Catalonia is much more than Barcelona. In fact, the surrounding area is full of quaint medieval villages, stunning small cities, and seaside towns.

And so, when I joined some family and friends to rent a medieval castle in the sleepiest of small villages, Sant Mori, we had plenty to keep us occupied—without ever venturing into Barcelona.

The best part? Many of these sleepy pastoral towns offer outstanding restaurants—without the lines, parking hassles, or prices you’ll bump into in Barcelona.

La Barretina de Orfes.

For our first night’s dinner, we drove a short distance along narrow lanes bordered by pastures, thick woods, and rolling hills to Lilliputian Orfes. Approached via a poplar-lined country road, the village consists of a storybook collection of old stone and brick buildings. Somewhat hidden on the second floor of one of the old buildings you’ll find La Barretina de Orfes.

The restaurant’s owner led us to a long wooden table in an empty dining room which overlooked the charming but empty town square (it was 7:30 and no one but Americans eat at that hour in Spain). The room—and the view of the village outside—could have been from the 19th century. But it wasn’t the room or the view that brought us here—it was the food. In our group of nearly a dozen, we sampled some area classics—stuffed peppers, fish, duck, and onion tart. By the time we left, the place was stuffed—and so were we.

A Compartir creation.

This corner of Spain with its idyllic coastline that heads north and east toward the nearby French border has attracted foodies for decades. While the legendary El Bulli is long shuttered, some of the renowned restaurant’s staff serve up fare in several nearby restaurants. One of the best, Compartir, is just up from the beach in Cadaques. Summer is the best time to visit when Mediterranean breezes carry the scent of blooming jasmine and citrus in the atmospheric courtyard.

Hostal Sa Rascassa's quaint dining courtyard.

Our last night’s dinner was the most extraordinary in some ways, featuring the most beautiful—and unexpected—route to the garden courtyard and entry of Hostal Sa Rascassa. Nestled in woods high above the Mediterranean, the restaurant is reached via a winding road that takes you through movie set-like Begur with its medieval tower and weathered stone castle. Sit outside in the restaurant’s Eden-like courtyard or tuck into a table in the cozy rooms of the restaurant. In either spot you can devour perfectly-prepared seafood and plenty of locally-sourced dishes.

Stay:
Hostal Sa Rascassa offers a few rooms and is walking distance to a beach.

Castell de Rocaberti. 

For larger parties, consider renting the rambling and historic Castell de Rocaberti.

Visit:
Spend a few hours at Sant Marti dÉmpuries—a sleepy little coastal village with a small street lined with restaurants with outdoor cafés.

Visit Besalú for its stunning 11th century medieval bridge and buildings.

Although it’s not sleepy, the small but bustling city of Girona boasts a lively historic quarter that includes a unique museum devoted to the history of Catalonian Jews (most of whom were forced to convert to Christianity or were expelled during the Great Inquisition).

Sardines in Caduques.

The classic onion pie at La Barretina de Orfes.

Compartir's relaxed outdoor dining area.

A view from the historic Castell de Rocaberti. 

Soured on Napa? Sonoma's Still Sweet.

In the 1980s when I first visited the Napa Valley it was casual, recently discovered, and in its adolescence tourism-wise. I casually drove around the valley, visiting different wineries on a whim. And I loved it. After an absence of nearly three decades, I recently made a return visit. And while Napa’s wines might be aging well, the same can’t be said for the valley.

Traffic clogs the area’s few major thoroughfares and the streets of once sleepy towns. Reservations are essential at restaurants and wineries. And everything is large, luxe or shellacked with a perky shopping mall patina of fresh paint, including coffee shops, tasting rooms, restaurants and stores. Even the parking lots of wineries haven’t been overlooked—they’re designed, sculpted, and landscaped. If there’s a speck of dust or something out of place in a town or tasting room, it’s an anomaly.

This was not the Napa of thirty years past, the dimly-lit tasting rooms heavy with the scent of spilled and aging wine, dusty bocce ball courts, or sleepy rural roads. No, that Napa is gone.

MacRostie vineyard.

Fortunately, there are other areas that resemble the Napa of three decades ago. And one of them is a mere hour’s drive from Napa. Sure, neighboring Sonoma isn’t a secret and is a tourist destination itself. But there are still many corners of Sonoma that are quiet, serene, and unpolished.

During a recent visit to Sonoma, I joined family and friends and rented a rambling house on a thickly wooded hilltop above Guerneville. From this convenient base, we visited a number of nearby wineries—all of which were sleepy and casual by Napa norms.

Passalaqua vineyard.

Just to the east, Westside Road carves a meandering route through wooded hills, rolling pastureland, and acres of vineyards. There are enough wineries along the route to spend a few afternoons here, and when you finish, you end up in Healdsburg which offers several excellent restaurants, including Chalkboard and Campo Fina.

As for the wineries, here are some favorites along Westside Road and nearby.

Mill Creek Skip the winery’s dark tasting room and head outside to the terrace which provides views of Dry Creek Valley vineyards, a millpond, and a working water wheel.

Passalacqua With a deck and perfectly landscaped grounds, Passalacqua might offer the most beautiful wine tasting spot in the area. While reservations are recommended, our party of five just showed up, followed an hour later by four more of our party, and we were all accommodated—cheerfully.

Martin Ray offers a number of seating areas, some situated on the edge of the vineyards.

MacRostie Located on a storybook hilltop circled by vineyards, MacRostie offers one the best views in the area. While the airy, sleek rooms inside offer expansive views of the countryside, you’ll want to sip wine on one the decks which seem to hover over the adjacent vineyards.

Martin Ray This small winery offers several seating areas situated in several gardens loaded with colorful flowers. A shaded bocce ball court tempted, but I chose to sit under a colorful umbrella and focus on tasting wine.

Arista Full disclosure: we didn’t visit this winery, but we drove past it several times and were tempted by its verdant setting and excellent reviews.

Passalaqua vineyard.

Cocktail Couture in Paris

A perfect Manhattan at La Closerie.

Those forward-thinking cities that were early adopters of cocktail culture often boast classic and historic bars. Of course, some spots are tourist traps and others serve cocktails that don’t match their reputation. In the case of Paris, though, the city has been mixing drinks for more than a century and boasts several bars worth a visit—or two.

La Closerie des Lilas

Montparnasse is a bit removed from the main sites of Paris, so plenty of tourists don’t bother to visit. And that’s their loss.

During a recent trip to the historic La Closerie Des Lilas in Montparnasse, we lucked out as the garden lilacs, the restaurant’s namesake, were blooming and filling the courtyard, bar, dining room and brasserie with their sweet scent. And, while they weren’t fragrant, camellias, azaleas, tulips, and daffodils in the entrance garden lent an air of enchantment to the spot.

F. Scott Fitzgerald's spot at La Closerie.

Though charming, the courtyard garden—where Lenin played checkers and Hemingway probably pontificated—aren’t the main attraction. No, many come for the bar, a haunt of literary luminaries including F. Scott Fitzgerald and Simone de Beauvoir and artists such as Picasso (look for brass nameplates on bar tables to see where your favorites sat). All this history comes with a side of expertly-prepared cocktails.

From April through August, the last golden rays of daylight shine all the way into the bar, casting the whole place in a timeless, ethereal glow.

Warning: Bowlfuls of old school, house-made potato chips and green olives accompany drink orders, but may prove addictive.

Café Deux Magots

Most people think of this historic spot for breakfast or a café au lait with a shot of serious café culture. But Deux Magots also serves cocktails and offers one of the best seats in the city for watching a parade of Left Bankers stroll past.

Waiters at Deux Magot dress for work.

On a recent trip, we visited at cocktail hour and the place was packed with regulars, office workers, and tourists. Comfortably seated in classic café chairs just off busy Boulevard Saint Germain, we ordered Old Fashioneds which were poured tableside with a flourish by a poised, black suit-clad waiter. On a mild April night, we people watched, sipped our perfect cocktails and enjoyed a storybook view of the medieval, stone-clad Saint Germain church across the square.

Hemingway Bar at the Ritz

It’s said that when Paris was liberated from the Nazis, Hemingway celebrated with a drink at the old bar at the Ritz on historic Place Vendôme. To Hemingway, Paris was back to normal when cocktails were once again being shaken and stirred in the marble-clad rooms of the old hotel.

Well, the combination of Hemingway, the liberation of Paris, history, and the bar’s pedigree meant the place ranked high on my list of institutions to check out. I’d tried to visit during previous trips, but the stars were never aligned (once I was wearing jeans, once I was too early, and once I was too late and the small two-room bar was at capacity). Well, my fourth visit was the charm. (And I was charmed.)

At cocktail hour, a waiter ceremoniously opened large doors, revealing two intimate rooms with a handful of low, petite tables, a half dozen bar stools, and a smaller room up a few stairs. Memorabilia and ephemera—in some cases seemingly and in others obviously—associated with the Oak Park, Illinois writer fill the walls.

What the place lacks in space it makes up for in ambiance—well, and prices (most cocktails are 30 euro and higher.) Despite a wait for entry and elevated prices, I’m glad I went, though I’m not sure I need to return.

(Note: If you plan to visit, a line begins to form 30 minutes prior to the 6:00 p.m. opening.)

Le Bar's well-equipped, well, bar. 

L’Hotel

Tucked into a sleepy backstreet in the Latin Quarter, the storied L’Hotel and its intimate, posh bar offer a welcome retreat from the hurly burly world outside. More luxe and discreet than the Ritz, L’Hotel’s bar offers cocktails that are nearly half the price of those at the Right Bank Hemingway haunt, but every bit as tasty.

If you can swing the adjacent Michelin-starred restaurant, Le Restaurant, book a table well in advance. If you’re doing drinks and dinner, you may as well consider staying the night. The 20-room L’Hotel is the smallest five star hotel in Paris. Having provided rooms for Oscar Wilde, Princess Grace and Elizabeth Taylor, the hotel might be the perfect spot to rest your head after exploring Paris’ cocktail couture.

Provence's Legendary La Colombe d’Or Still Sparkles

For travel junkies, the world is full of iconic, mythical destinations. Maybe we read about them in novels or travel magazines, or perhaps we heard an author or famous actress talk about a visit to the spot during an interview on a talk show. Wherever or however we heard about them, they captured our imagination.

In the early 80s, several years before I took my first trip to Europe, I read about such a place, a restaurant housed in a cozy inn near Nice. The restaurant, La Colombe d’Or, sat on the edge of Saint-Paul de Vence, a sleepy Medieval village perched on a mountaintop overlooking the Mediterranean.

The inn was the haunt of Picasso and Matisse, Chagall, and Miró, and many others. During the day, the artists soaked up the warm Provencal sun, played boules on dusty courts, and sipped chilled rosé. In the evenings, they gathered around candlelit tables for wine-soaked dinners, philosophizing, and exquisite food served by hotel founders Paul Roux and his wife Baptistine. Because many guests were struggling artists (at the time, anyway), they paid their bills in artwork—paintings, sculptures, and watercolors. Instead of hanging the art in their own home or selling it, Roux and his wife displayed it throughout the inn and restaurant.

When I first traveled to Europe as a college student, I was traveling with a backpack and staying in pensiones and small hotels—some of which didn’t even offer hot water. I thrilled at the sense of adventure, the concept that everything I needed was in my front pocket and, to a lesser degree, in the pack I carried on my back.

But during those first trips to Europe, I couldn’t even remotely consider a dinner at a place like La Colombe d’Or.

“Someday,” I told myself. And that day eventually came.

A few years ago, I finally made it to La Colombe. To reach the restaurant, my partner and a friend and I boarded a small bus that took us from the buzzing center of Nice to a sleepy square in Saint-Paul de
Vence. Unbelievably, a group of men stood in the square playing a game of pétanque.

Seriously? Had the local tourist council paid them?

We strolled around the charming but touristy village, admiring the views down to the deep blue Mediterranean which sparkled in the late morning sun, and then explored the narrow cobblestone streets. As noon approached, we slipped through the unassuming garden gates of La Colombe and found ourselves in an enchanted world—a courtyard crowded with white-clothed tables, creamy market umbrellas, ivy-covered stone walls, and sculptures.

Lunch began—as it should—with cocktails: bubble-riddled golden champagne and fiery-orange aperol spritzes. We watched the terrace fill with foodies, destination tourists much like ourselves, fashionistas from Paris, and lucky locals looking for a good lunch. Maybe we were projecting, but the atmosphere was celebratory, not stuffy. Kids at a nearby table were never hushed and when we tragically spilled a glass of sancerre, not an eyebrow was raised. Sure, the prices were above average, but the attitude and atmosphere were casual.

We sat in the benevolent shade of an umbrella on that warm afternoon, chewing on crusty bread smeared with local pâté. And as the sun shifted and waiters jumped to reposition umbrellas, we sipped champagne surrounded by sculptures made by modern masters. And things only got better after that.

The lunch menu didn’t overwhelm with options. Instead, a sampling of French classics were the rule. And why would you want it to offer anything else?

After dining on oysters from Brittany, delicate Sole Meunière, au gratin potatoes, roasted asparagus, and boeuf, we wandered around the inn. Just beyond an unassuming doorway off the restaurant courtyard, we found a marble-topped front desk with nearby seating that overlooked a verdant, overgrown garden which plunged down the mountainside.  Further inside a pool and terrace tempted us to linger. Or stretch out and take a nap.

And finally, we wandered through a few adjoining rooms in the classic restaurant—its walls crowded with original oil paintings and water colors. One room featured a large fireplace that conjured up images of crisp winter nights, candlelight setting the rooms aglow, and a roaring fire providing heat. But with its verdant garden and mullioned windows overlooking the sublime courtyard, Colombe d’Or in my view is best visited in warm weather months.

La Colombe d’Or represents a restaurant from a bygone era—in the best way. Made famous by artists, writers and actors, the restaurant and inn were destinations because they served great food and their walls were crowded with masterpieces of modern art that painters and sculptors used to pay their bills.

For a lover of art, history, culture, and cuisine, there’s no other spot on the planet that compares.