Search results for

You enter Mister Jiu’s off of Waverly Place and step first into the dark and dreamy bar, a perfect place to pause for one of the restaurant’s inventive cocktails. With the mood set, follow the hallway, which gives way to the light and bright dining room that overlooks the lanterns and Chinese signs of Grant Avenue. Chef Brandon Jew and his talented team buzz around the open kitchen, whipping up small and large dishes of organic, locally sourced meat, fish, and vegetables. The cuisine makes modern versions of old classics: instead of the usual white doughy wrap, pork buns here are served on Dutch crunch rolls; hot and sour soup is served with Dungeness crab; and shui jiao dumplings are filled with lamb. Banquet-style dining is encouraged—how else will you get to test out that old-school Chinese restaurant mainstay, the lazy Susan, built into each round teak table? A prix fixe menu and à la carte ordering are available. Within six months of opening, Mister Jiu’s earned a Michelin star.

Set in a gorgeous space with high ceilings and a relaxed colonial vibe, Cookhouse operates under the guidance of renowned chef Jean-Georges Vongerichten. The focus is on intense flavors and textures from vegetable juices, herbal vinaigrettes, and broths, with lots of fish and veggies on the extensive menu. Much of the wide-ranging Continental fare has an Asian twist, from the lightly fried calamari with a citrus dipping sauce to black-truffle-and-fontina-cheese pizza; roasted cod with spicy herbal coconut broth; and kale salad with lemon, mint, and green chili. Cookhouse occupies one of the huge old buildings of the former Tanglin Barracks, a base built in the 1860s for Singapore-based British soldiers that in the past decade has become an upscale dining hub.

You could expect no less than to find a bustling fish market in a seaside town. Explore the isles of this market that houses fishermen and farmers alike and watch the morning’s catch being descaled right in front of you.

Opened in 2011, Reykjavík’s Harpa Concert Hall and Conference Centre is not only the most significant classical music venue in Iceland (home to the Iceland Symphony Orchestra and the Icelandic Opera), but also one of the country’s most striking examples of modern architecture. Located close to the old harbor, the building was part of a larger development meant to breathe life into the downtown district (the plan was abandoned due to the subsequent economic crash, but funds to complete Harpa were found). The coruscating, eye-catching facade was designed by Icelandic-Danish artist Olafur Eliasson, and the spacious interior has four handsome halls, the largest of which can accommodate up to 1,800 seated guests. There are also smaller conference rooms dotted throughout the building, and the ground floor hosts a record shop, café and restaurant, and other public areas. In addition to classical concerts, the venue holds music festivals, pop shows, art exhibitions, and more.

Cat Street, also known as Upper Lascar Row, is the purr-fect place to browse for kitsch and curios that make great gifts for friends back home. In contrast to the expensive antiques sold along the parallel Hollywood Road, colorful Cat Street is a fun jumble of the quirky: snuff bottles, silk slippers, embroidered things, vintage jewelry and clothes, old propaganda posters, and Chairman Mao–themed everything. The bustling-market vibe appeals even to nonshoppers. (Wondering about the name? Back in the 1920s the area was known for markets that sold secondhand and sometimes stolen goods; the people who bought the hot property were called cats, and so a nickname was born.)

Located behind the church of San Lorenzo, this is where many members of the ruling Medici family are buried. The octagonal building with an opulent marble interior dates from 1519. The Cappella dei Principi houses sarcophagi belonging to the Medici grand dukes, including Cosimo I. Lorenzo the Magnificent is buried in the adjoining Sagrestia Nuova, which contains Michelangelo’s famous Night and Day and Dawn and Dusk sculptures.

Berggasse 19 is the address of a modest house on a modest street, but it was there that much of the modern world and culture were changed forever. For nearly 50 years, the Freud house—now, officially, the Sigmund Freud Museum—was the home and office of the legendary psychoanalyst, until 1938 when he finally departed for London as Nazi forces were descending on Vienna. The rooms are filled with old books, antiques, personal artifacts, and correspondence, though not the famous couch (which is now at the Freud museum in London). In 2019, the house will undergo a yearlong €4 million renovation to its facade and exhibition spaces. If you walk the Ringstrasse over to the Burgtheater area, you can see the University of Vienna that was once the General Hospital where Herr Professor worked for many years.

As you take in its dome made of gold-filigree laurel leaves, the utter modernity of the Secession Building stuns you. Joseph Maria Olbrich’s glorious exhibition hall just off the Ringstrasse is more than a century old, and is one of the most beautiful legacies of the great intellectual and artistic period known as fin de siècle Vienna—when the city’s coffeehouses were frequented by the likes of Freud and Klimt and the architect of the day, Otto Wagner. Not many cities can claim their own art movements, but the Vienna Secession was a reaction to the staid art of the late Hapsburg empire. “To every age its art, to every art its freedom” proclaims the inscription (in German) on the facade of the building which also has a 112-foot-wide, 1902 Beethoven Frieze by Gustav Klimt.

Those who just stumble upon the Hundertwasserhaus apartments in the Third District will likely be wowed by the buildings. Friedensreich Hundertwasser’s funky, mid-1980s organic housing complex is weird and gorgeous with a wavy, eclectically painted facade that looks like something out of a cartoon. With trees growing on its terraces and roof, it’s the antithesis of staid imperial Vienna. A freethinker if there ever was one, the artist, architect, and environmentalist Hundertwasser could be called Austria’s Gaudí. Visitors can learn more about him in the ground-floor café. Nearby, Hundertwasser designed the Kunst Haus Wien art museum out of an old Thonet furniture factory, while up the Danube Canal an incineration plant’s chimney got the Hundertwasser treatment with trippy colors and a funky golden ball on top.

Cacao beans’ scientific name is theobrama cacao, which translates into “drink of the gods.” Casa Cortés in Old San Juan will truly please any god with its Cortés chocolate concoctions. This welcoming café fuses modern style of its seats and dishes with the antique charm of walls covered in Cortés chocolate molds and a short history of chocolate on a collage of artwork that exudes nostalgia. The menu features mouth-watering items such as a baguette filled with Brie, chocolate, and a hazelnut spread; a blood orange and passion fruit cheesecake topped with a chocolate mousse; and an Argentinian ice wine. I opted for the mallorca (a sweet bread dusted with powdered sugar) stuffed with Ibérico ham, Manchego, chocolate, and a guava spread, accompanied by a European hot chocolate that was to die for. My meal was perfect, but I’m sure everything I didn’t get to taste was just as amazing. That’s what you get when your chocolate comes straight from a nearby farm. While I waited for my food, I watched a video on chocolate production. There’s also a museum (unfortunately, I was unable to see it, but you can bet I’ll be back there next time I come home to my beautiful island) and some products for sale. Make sure to take a little piece of Casa Cortés with you for future indulgences—they advertise one chocolate tablet as being enough for two beverages.

Today, Québec City is decidedly francophone. While 50 percent of Montreal‘s residents describe their mother tongue as only French, the figure is 95 percent for Québec City. This was not always the case, and for much of its history the city had a significant anglophone minority. The Morrin Centre is one reminder of that period. In 1868, the building, which had been used as the town’s jail (the old cells are included on tours of the building), was renovated to become Morrin College, an affiliate of Montréal’s McGill University. It offered instruction in English, though it would be forced to close in 1902 as the number of students interested in an English-language education dwindled. The institution lives on as an English-language cultural center, and book lovers should be sure to visit the elegant library, established the same year as the Morrin Centre by the Literary and Historical Society of Québec, Canada’s first learned society.

Bufalina owner Steven Dilley once lived in New York City, where he taught himself how to cook pizza in his subsequently overheated apartment. He was a good teacher and a good student. The University of Texas alumnus became one of the early movers in the Neapolitan pizza game in Austin and now operates two Bufalina locations. The igloo-shaped stoves that turn out charred and supple pizzas never would have fit in that old apartment, but they have become the centerpieces of his Austin restaurants. The menus celebrate local bounty with a couple of fresh salad options, and the daily pasta is always a must. Dilley has also put together one of the city’s most intriguing wine lists, an unexpected page-turner for restaurants the size of Bufalina.

A true feast for the eyes, this Belle Époque brasserie inside a century-old former bank building (now part of the W Amsterdam) is one of the loveliest dining spaces in the city. Beneath a soaring, stained-glass ceiling, immense circular lighting fixtures hang over sleek black-marble tables; an intricate tiled floor, gold accents, and a mirrored bar round out the glamorous vibe. The sophisticated French and Italian dishes are beautifully executed, and don’t miss the cocktails—especially the selection of classic punches. High tea is served in the elegant adjacent tearoom every afternoon.

Cobá holds what remains of a large pre-Colombian Maya civilization located on the Riviera Maya. Lesser known than Tulum, the name Cobá means turbid (cloudy) waters—probably having to do with the five cenotes (underground rivers) in the region, which played an important role in agriculture during the development of this region. At one time the city is believed to have had 50,000 inhabitants. Much of the area is still unexcavated, although recent excavations unearthed a stele, which is unique to the Maya world, as it is covered in hieroglyphics. A restored ball court confirms that the popular ball game was practiced here. Bloodletting rituals traditionally followed Maya ball games at Cobá and slaves were forced to participate. This differs from what was practiced at the later site of Chichen Itza, where the captain of the winning team was beheaded after the game.

The unofficial symbol of St. Louis, the Gateway Arch is the tallest man-made monument in the United States, rising 630 feet into the air. It sits at the center of Gateway Arch National Park, which was established in 1935 to commemorate Thomas Jefferson’s vision of a transcontinental America. In 2018, the park emerged from a five-year, $380 million renovation, which added a grassy pedestrian walkway over the interstate as well as a revamped museum with new exhibits about the construction of the arch and how the expansion of the United States affected Native American communities. Tour the new sites, then take the four-minute, vertigo-inducing tram to the top of the arch, where you can see up to 30 miles east and west on a clear day.