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It seems criminal that what many consider the best barbecue in Charleston comes from a Texas pit-master, but such is the nature of a global food scene in a thriving culinary city. John Lewis arrived in town with focus and intention, constructing an array of smokers that slow-cook hundreds of pounds of brisket, pork, and “hot guts” (sausage) each day. His expansive, counter-serve joint accommodates grab-and-go meals as well as extended feasts, for at least as long as diners can fend off the meat sweats. If you’re indecisive—which is natural at Lewis Barbecue—opt for the Sancho Loco, a mountain of a sandwich that piles guts, pickled red onions, pulled pork, and chopped beef between two slices that do their best to accommodate the onslaught of sauce and smoky flavor. Regulars know not to miss the green chili corn pudding—it’s a taste of Texas that’s more than welcome in the Lowcountry.

Located on the breathtaking Snæfellsnes Peninsula, a couple of hours north of Reykjavík, Hótel Búðir has been operating since the 1940s and is one of the best places to stay in the region—as well as one of the best places to dine. The restaurant is simply decorated with wooden tables and chairs, lace curtains, traditional paintings, and—the main draw aesthetically—huge windows that look out onto the magnificent landscapes of the peninsula. Framed in those windows are moss-covered lava fields, the glistening ocean, and the Snæfellsjökull glacier itself. The gourmet menu focuses on local goods: fresh fish and meat (lamb, veal) from nearby farms, with fresh, seasonal vegetables. Staff are welcoming and always happy to guide you through the very decent wine and cocktail lists.

It is all about farm-to-table cuisine at Primo, where two-time James Beard Award–winning chef Melissa Kelly hangs both her toque and her garden shears. Behind the restaurant, in a Victorian house on the Rockland–Owls Head town line, are acres of pastures and organic gardens. Be sure to allow time to visit with the chicken and pigs, buzz by the beehives, ogle the greenhouses, and admire the produce, edible-flower, and tea gardens. Make reservations for the intimate and elegant Parlor dining rooms, or head to the upstairs Counter Room and Bar, where the menu highlights pizza, cheeses, and charcuterie, and tapas-size portions. The flavors are Mediterranean with a Maine accent. Don’t miss the house-made breads or desserts, either.

A more casual alternative to El Tovar Dining Room, the Arizona Room sits directly on the rim of the Grand Canyon and the menu is all about Southwestern specialties: homemade tortilla soup, oven-roasted native squash and heirloom beans, and Arizona-raised prime cuts of meat. The drinks list features local wines from Carlson Creek and Arizona Stronghold Vineyards, as well as lesser-known Grand Canyon State liquors such as Copper City Bourbon (Tempe), Gold Miner Agave Rum (Kingman), and Thumb Butte Vodka (Prescott).

It’s hard to go wrong with Italian food in Boston’s North End, but one surefire way to go right is to turn left from the door of the Paul Revere House and slip inside the historic town house that’s home to Mamma Maria, an unmissable fine-dining restaurant facing North Square. Settle into the serenely elegant dining room overlooking the square to feast on classics like terrine of suckling pig, veal osso buco, Tuscan-style rabbit pappardelle, and a wide selection of seafood dishes from local waters. The uninitiated may mutter a “mamma mia” at the prices, but for Northern Italian in the North End, Mamma Maria rules the house.

Regulars at Workshop Kitchen + Bar know not to get too attached to any one dish. Innovative chef/owner Michael Beckman—who trained in Lyon and worked in Berlin—might be serving honey-lavender glazed black cod one night; a sausage, rapini, and fennel pizza another; and his signature burger (with pastrami and wagyu oxtail) the next. Diners in the know ask for the off-the-menu whole striped sea bass, grilled in the wood-fired oven with seasonally shifting ingredients. The adventurous menu is a big draw, to be sure, but so is the magical setting: The 90-year-old Spanish-inspired building—once an art gallery and movie theater—features 27-foot-high ceilings, which the trendsetting architecture firm SOMA updated with poured concrete for an industrial cathedral aesthetic. (The work won it a James Beard Design Award.) If you’re there for Sunday brunch or an early dinner, ask for booth #7, which is flooded with natural light, or a table in the whitewashed courtyard. Cocktails such as the Mountaineer—made with little-known Génépy des Alpes liqueur, pineapple and lime juice, and bitters—are just as revelatory early in the evening as they are on late weekend nights, when the place is bustling.

Housed on a 1,100-foot stretch of beachfront, Grace Bay Club is as stylishly current as it was in 1993, when it became the first luxury hotel to open on the then nearly empty sands of Grace Bay. From its original 21 rooms, the upscale property has grown to 82 suites, each of which features ocean views, a private veranda or patio, and chic interiors by renowned designer Thom Felicia. Guests can also look forward to superior service, including a personal concierge available day or night via a provided cell phone.

When hunger strikes, there’s the oceanfront Infiniti Restaurant & Raw Bar, which boasts sea-to-table fare and the longest bar in the Caribbean, as well as several other family-friendly venues, including The Grill. If it’s pampering you seek, make time to visit the spacious Anani Spa, where you’ll find six treatment rooms, including one just for couples. A spa tent is also available for beachfront massages.

When I stepped into the grand lobby of Québec’s Le Château Montebello, I felt like I was entering Paul Bunyan’s living room. Giant timbers braced a three-story-high ceiling, and a massive fireplace in the center radiated warmth in all directions. After checking in, I joined the guests gathered around the six-sided hearth and sank into a leather club chair. I spent the rest of the day by the fire, sipping hot toddies and napping, as the comfort of the crackling flames sent me and the other fireside dozers snuggling deeper into our cushions. I had come to ski some of the 65,000 acres of wooded backcountry that neighbor the resort, but the château was so welcoming, I found it hard to leave.


Often described as the world’s largest log cabin, the lodge and two other main buildings were constructed in 1930 from 10,000 red cedar logs and 500,000 handmade wooden shingles. The houses and the vast surrounding forests were long owned by the politically prominent Papineau family, and until 1970, the estate remained a private nature retreat for Canada’s upper class. As I walked through the château’s halls, the intricately carved banisters and exposed beams reminded me of the great western lodges in the U.S. national parks—only without any grumpy tourists demanding to know where the animals are.

In the guest rooms, deluxe amenities such as flat-screen TVs and rain-dome showerheads upstaged anything found in Yellowstone or Yosemite. Despite the modern perks, rawhide lampshades and other rustic details helped my suite retain its frontier appeal. When I got up to pull the plaid drapes closed that night, I watched a horse-drawn sleigh pass by, glowing in the moonlight against the dark ribbon of the frozen Ottawa River.

Without fresh snow to ski the next morning, I was left to explore the lodge’s other activities. I opted out of getting scrubbed with maple sugar at the spa or unsuccessfully flirting with French-Canadian women by the fire, and instead devoted the day to learning the inscrutable rules of curling. The château has an indoor ice rink dedicated to the sport, a national favorite that’s best described as a combination of shuffleboard and falling down a lot. My instructor was Henri, a kindly sexagenarian who, like many in Québec’s western Outaouais region, seemed more comfortable speaking French than English. As it turns out, kindly reassurance sounds the same in either language. But as my backside repeatedly hit the ice, Henri’s patient polyglot insistence that I was doing “une belle job” grew progressively less convincing.

After my rough-and-tumble day, I dined in the white-tablecloth Aux Chantignoles restaurant. Québecois cuisine dominates the menu, and I followed a dinner of tender venison osso buco with a slice of Québec’s famously sweet and jiggly sugar pie—think pecan pie sans pecans. Snow fell just in time for me to ski through the nearby forest on my last day. I spent a long afternoon there, gliding among stands of birch, pine, and spruce in the rolling Laurentian Highlands. Now and again, I paused to admire one of the countless frozen lakes, their smooth surfaces dotted with tracks left by moose and white-tailed deer. I skied in the silent wilderness until just after sunset. As the scent of a wood fire began to tickle my nose, I grew eager to cozy up by the hearth again. I turned back toward the château’s stone chimney, its rising plume of smoke signaling for my return.
This appeared in the November/December 2010 issue.

Sit down to dine at The Mansion, and you may come face to face with a spread that looks like this: Skagit River sockeye salmon with green risotto and confit tomatoes; Snake River flat iron steak with beet sauce; and sprigs of fresh lavender in a dainty vase. Certainly you can be sure you’ll be sampling the finest Pacific Northwest bounty, given the restaurant’s commitment to sourcing most ingredients—including stone fruit, mushrooms, oysters, Mangalitsa pigs, and greens—from Orcas Island and its environs. The restaurant occupies the waterfront veranda of historic Moran Mansion, part of Rosario Resort & Spa and named for shipbuilder and former Seattle mayor Robert Moran.

You might not think of Vienna as a very Greek city, but guess what: The oldest restaurant in town is the Griechenbeisl, the Greek Tavern. Back in the late 15th century, Levantine traders lodged in this building on Fleischmarkt street, and its hodgepodge of rooms in which many a historic figure have dined hasn’t changed much since. The walls of the Mark Twain Room are decorated with autographs by the great scribe and many other notable figures. Despite its name, the Greek Tavern specializes in schnitzel and other dishes that are as pure Austrian as can be. And the live music you enjoy while dining won’t be made by a bouzouki, but by a Viennese zither. Out front there is a plaque commemorating the 17th-century minstrel Marx Augustin, famous as the subject of the song “Oh Du Lieber Augustin.”

Not only do husband-and-wife team John Shields and Karen Urie Shields share an impressive culinary background (one that entails gigs at Tru, Alinea, and Charlie Trotter’s between them), they now share two restaurants: the Loyalist, a neighborhood restaurant focused on farm-fresh fare, and Smyth, an upscale tasting-menu eatery embodying those same sourcing philosophies. It’s the latter that garnered a Michelin star within just six weeks of opening, thanks to an incredibly ingredient-focused approach that often means making key elements of dishes in-house. Dungeness crab with saltwater-poached foie gras and scrambled kani miso continues to be a favorite for diners, as is the egg-custard dessert—a brilliant and beguiling bowl of egg yolk, salted licorice, and frozen-yogurt meringue.

One of the most romantic hideouts on Bonaire, La Balandra is designed to make you feel like you’re dining on an old Spanish ship when, in fact, you’re ensconced in the Harbour Village Beach Club. Cruise passengers have two options here: Pay an approximately $50 resort fee that includes a credit toward the restaurant, but also gives you access to the private beach, lounge chairs, dive shop and other facilities—or go for the restaurant only. Either way, call ahead to reserve (599-717-7500).

A leader in Portland’s vegetable-forward movement, Quaintrelle has quietly become one of the city’s best fine-dining choices. All this on a strip of Mississippi Street better known for bar crawls and brunch lines than for seasonal cuisine and killer cocktails. The eclectic American menu rotates based on what’s available and in season. Almost all of the food is local, from the tempura Meyer lemons to the carrot and raisin salad. Meals at Quaintrelle can easily double as a primer on what can be grown in Oregon, including wouldn’t-guess-this-is-local ingredients like quinoa and wasabi.

Upholding the brand’s five-star standard, the Ritz-Carlton Osaka is an opulent city hotel with all the expected amenities. The decor feels more 18th-century England than modern-day Japan, but the location,in the central Nishi-Umeda district, is perfect for business and shopping. The six fine-dining restaurants range from traditional French delicacies to seasonal Japanese sushi to a “chocolate factory” buffet; the whisky bar is noted for its extensive list of more than 100 malts. Plush and spacious rooms have sweeping views of the Osaka skyline, including the unique Umeda Sky building. The fitness center and spa has a heated indoor pool, baths, and jacuzzis which overlook a small garden. The Ritz-Carlton completed a refurbishment of their guest rooms and club lounge in summer 2017, in celebration of the hotel’s 20th anniversary.

The success of the TV drama Borgen has piqued international interest in the building that houses the Danish government. Christiansborg Palace (from which Borgen takes its name) is also the tallest tower in the city center, and it’s free to visit though you will have to go through airport-style security to get in. There’s a viewing platform or, better yet, go to the casual restaurant in the tower. One of the most unusual and memorable places to dine in Copenhagen, the belfry-like eatery has a Harry Potter–like charm, with casts of sculptures left over from the time the space was used as a storage room.