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Stephanie Izard puts together a great restaurant. The Girl and the Goat has been hard to get into since it opened and Little Goat had a 90 minute wait when we went last month. 90 minutes for diner food! That’s impressive. Other things that were impressive? The Fat Elvis Waffles with crunchy bacon bits, sliced bananas and peanut butter sauce. Big enough for 2 people, but who wants to give up any of that deliciousness?? Little Goat is worth a visit but let the newness wear off a bit before you go.

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.

This restaurant in northwest Tasmania—defined by a blond wood wall, white bucket chairs, and stoneware dishes—wouldn’t feel out of place in hip Hobart, or even in Sydney or Melbourne. It’s Scandinavian in style, but the food veers more French and Italian: pork, chorizo, and pea risotto; seared scallops with pickled fennel; duck rillettes; a lemon brûlée tart with raspberry chantilly cream. But seven-course degustation dinners and acoustic-guitar sessions are very, well, Tasmanian. Degustation dishes could feature everything from mint-cured ocean trout and sous vide squid for starters to entrées of slow-cooked lamb belly and confit duck served over charred peach purée and prosciutto.

Michael and I take the lead up a scree-choked stream draining from the Gangjam glacier. Two hours of climbing through talus brings us to ice-blue seracs rising like frozen waveforms from the mottled glacier. An hour further, in the cirque beneath the black wall of Kailash, we begin to sink up to our knees in sun-softened snow. Michael’s altimeter reads 17,500 feet, and above us, the mountain’s north face rises in a 4,000-foot vertical thrust of glazed rock, capped by a treacherous overhanging white cornice. Jaws gone slack, we lift our eyes in awe toward the Throne of Shiva. “How about it, bro? Break out the crampons?” “Jesus! I am not seeing a good route on that wall,” Michael replies, and we both laugh. Kailash remains one of the few legendary mountains on this planet left unclimbed—out of reverence. “And look at that freakin’ cornice!” Michael adds “Nevé ice for sure. Like frost on a windowpane. Won’t hold your points for shit.” There were rumors, nearly a decade ago, that the legendary Austrian mountaineer, Reinhold Messner had surreptitiously planned to bag Kailash, a task which he certainly had the skill and resources to accomplish. But when Messner saw the Precious Snow Mountain for himself, he realized what a desecration it would be to set crampons on its face or boots on its summit. He’s since become a vocal proponent of keeping Kailash off-limits to climbers in perpetuity.

Downtown Bryson City is home to the welcoming Everett Hotel and its restaurant, the Bistro. Although famous for its crepes, the Bistro’s mountain trout preparations rival the finest riverside camp cooking, including, notably, the trout cakes, a highlight of the Southern cuisine–driven tapas menu. Ingredients are sourced locally and seasonally, and many are organic. Although the rustic, candelabra-lit atmosphere is relaxed, reservations are recommended, especially during summer and on weekends. Guests at the Everett enjoy complimentary breakfast and weekend brunch, and many eat here multiple times during a visit to the Smokies.

Located in Park City‘s renovated Masonic Hall on historic Main Street, the Riverhorse caters to a high-end fine-dining crowd. Seth Adams, the executive chef and co-owner who drives the seasonally appropriate creative menu, has brought home prestigious awards, including a few that were firsts in the state of Utah. While the Riverhorse has a great selection of wine, it does allow patrons to bring in their own bottles for a $25 corkage fee. The restaurant is family friendly, with healthy selections on the kids’ menu. Dress is “mountain casual,” and reservations are strongly encouraged.

The intimate, dimly-lit setting of Lodi – the Garden Restaurant provides the perfect place for a romantic rendezvous or a business dinner. There’s a beautiful outdoor deck that overlooks the lush Lodhi Gardens or you can opt for the cozy confines within. The food is absolutely something to rave about, bagging the award of one of the best restaurants in Delhi. You’ll find all the Mediterranean staples like hummus, tabouli, shish taouk, and shwarma, but their specialties are Pistou Soup and River Sole Steak Creole. It’s one of the very few places in Delhi that serve actual beef, so feast your senses on real steak. And the best of all is the dessert menu — it’s killer! There’s also live jazz bands for your entertainment, usually on the weekends, but call before you go to check. You’ll come in hungry and leave happy!

Kids visiting the Westin will love the resort’s kiddie pool, featuring an enormous waterslide that will make adults envious. There’s also a large indoor-outdoor play area (packed with toys!), mini putting green, and sandbox.

My wife, Robin, and I have been camping, fishing, and hiking in the Lakes Basin area, near Sierra City, since we met. These days, our usual home base is a tiny log cabin at the edge of Packer Lake, pictured here. From trailheads around Packer you can hike to many other lakes--Saxonia, Deer, Lower and Upper Tamarack, Young America, Upper and Lower Sardine. Most of the hikes are relatively easy, and on some trails you’ll rarely encounter other hikers. In early October 2007, a brief, unseasonable storm passed through and carpeted the area with an inch or two of snow, which made for an especially invigorating walk along the Pacific Crest Trail to the lookout at the top of the Sierra Buttes.

Limo offers Peruvian fusion par excellence that uses typical ingredients in daring new ways. It’s particularly known for fish, including many types of sushi, as well as a variety of entrées that feature tuna, shrimp, octopus, crab, salmon, or trout, some inspired by Andean recipes, others taken from the Japanese tradition. Not a seafood lover? No problem! Limo also has delicious options featuring chicken, pork, beef, and alpaca. This second-floor restaurant overlooking the Plaza de Armas is also a great place for sampling pisco cocktails. Reservations are a good idea, especially if you’d like to score a balcony table with a town-square view.

Owned by the Franklin restaurant team, Peppermint Bay Hotel in Woodbridge is a destination restaurant not only for its modern Aussie fare cooked up with farm-fresh produce (a lot of it grown on-site). It’s also beloved for its panoramic views of the D’Entrecasteaux Channel and regular concerts featuring the likes of Justin Townes Earle and Marlon Williams, which travelers can sail to on a Peppermint Bay cruise from Sullivans Cove in Hobart. While you’re in Woodbridge, pop by the tasting room at Woodbridge Smokehouse to sample ocean trout and Atlantic salmon smoked over a variety of hardwoods including shavings from the surrounding apple orchard.

You haven’t truly experienced Texas until you’ve visited the hallowed grounds of the Alamo. Established in 1718 as the Mission San Antonio de Valero, the building is best known as the site of the 1836 Battle of the Alamo, a 13-day siege under Mexican president General Antonio López de Santa Anna that ultimately killed nearly all of the Texan defenders. To stroll past the limestone facade and envision the battle that played out here is truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience. For a real treat, book an after-hours tour and get the Texas landmark all to yourself as you walk in the footsteps of the fallen soldiers.

You’ll want to arrive early at Sitka & Spruce to allow time for browsing the other shops inside Melrose Market: Calf and Kid’s artisanal cheeses, Rain Shadow Meats’ sausages and steaks, Glasswing’s home decor, and Marigold & Mint’s fresh flowers. At Sitka & Spruce, chef Matthew Dillon features a rotating menu of hyper-local Northwest cuisine in shareable small plates and mains. The artfully arranged charcuterie platter is a must-try, and don’t skip the bread — the Columbia City sourdough loaf with whipped butter is a local favorite. Just want a snack? Try Bar Ferd’nand next door, also co-owned by Dillon, for a glass of wine and simple bar snacks, or take home a bottle.

This deep, steep canyon literally hides beneath the state’s surface, though the main park entrance is just 12 miles east of Montrose, Colorado. For two million years, the Gunnison River has been working at the earth here, resulting in a “vertical wilderness of rock, water, and sky” that has been designated as a National Park since 1999 (it was known by the Ute and protected as a National Monument for many years before that as well). There are several entrances to the park and three choices of campgrounds, some of which accept reservations, the rest first come, first served. South Rim Campground is probably the most accessible, family-friendly choice, while North Rim is the more remote. Always ask if the local astronomy club will be setting up, to take advantage of some of the blackest skies in America. Also consider a boat tour of the upper Gunnison River and fishing in its Gold Medal Trout waters.

Tensions dissolve immediately when guests arrive at Sparrows Lodge. Take your welcome cocktail—sangria with wild blueberries—straight to the arbor, where the scent of citrus and the soothing fountain flow embody “out of office.” Like much of Palm Springs, this 20-room bolt-hole dates to the 1950s, when it was owned by MGM actor Don Castle and known as Castle’s Red Barn. Fully restored in 2013, the lodge is more rustic modern than midcentury, with russet red walls, exposed beams, and Swiss army blankets. It’s a decidedly unplugged place (rooms don’t have TVs or phones) with a casual atmosphere that’s akin to summer camp. Plan to spend quality time at the pool, tooling around town on one of the free Sole bikes, or in the Out of Africa–style massage tent. The Barn Kitchen’s family-style dinners on Chicken Wednesdays and Steak Saturdays are a can’t-miss. Strangers become fast friends over three-course feasts by chef Gabriel R. Woo (reserve at least a week in advance). Pro tip: Ask for a poolside room with a deep steel horse trough bathtub—and bring a good book.