The Jetsetter

Getaways (get outta dodge)
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A truly breathtaking sunset while parked at Seaview Lawn (which is also a fun scene). All photos: © tablehopper.com.

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Rambutans at Maku’u farmers’ market.

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One of the many food vendors at the Maku’u Sunday farmers’ market.

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There’s live music on Wednesday nights at Uncle Robert’s Awa Bar and Farmers’ Market.

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Mongoose! Captured while scavenging at Richardson Beach. You’ll see them all over.

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Halo-halo at Hilo Bay Sugar Shack.

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Only a small section of the many exotic jams available at Mr. Ed’s Bakery.

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My groovy little ohana at my friends’ property in Puna.

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The backyard at my friends’ house in Puna—so much green, everywhere you look.

A couple of dear friends of mine have been traveling extensively to Hawaii over the years and recently bought a home on the Big Island in the Puna District, just south of Hilo, which would be considered the wet side of the island (Kona, on the west side, is the dry side). It’s incredibly tropical, with lush plants, trees, vines, and plenty of rain, which is a good thing, since most homes in the area depend upon the rain catchment for their water supply.

The other big feature you’ll notice immediately is the dramatic lava flow fields all over the island, which makes for some jaw-dropping contrasts in the landscape, from lush to lunar. The current eruption has been going on since 1983, and if you drive through the town of Pahoa, you’ll see the remains of a flow that happened in June 2014. Talk to locals and you’ll learn about the different lava flows over the years and how they have shaped the terrain (and devastated some areas, destroying homes and businesses). Lava: it does whatever the hell it wants.

My Puna getaway was exactly what I needed: an extremely chill scene (I think I actually downshifted into second gear), a beautiful nearby beach, no cell service, a bonanza of tropical fruits, the most perfect balmy weather (I got lucky with minimal rain that week), and a whole lot of nature. The night skies are marvelous—it will make you want to learn more about constellations.

The drive to Pahoa and Hilo was a bit of a haul, so we stuck to mostly cooking at home, which was also a treat for me (but I do list a few places to eat at the end of this piece). When you see the amazing produce at the numerous farmers’ markets, you’ll want to cook so you can enjoy it all.

My favorite was the big Sunday market at Maku’u (6am-1:30pm), which also runs Tue-Thu, where we picked up everything from rambutans to ginger to farmstead feta, and you’ll find some prepared foods too (from Thai to takoyaki). The Kea’au Village Farmers’ Market (16-0550 Old Volcano Rd.) is also handy, running Sun and Tue-Thu 6am-1:30pm, where we scored Thai basil, a huge soursop, and bags of lilikoi (aka passion fruit, which you’ll want to enjoy daily—you cut into one and it will perfume the entire room!).

And then there’s Uncle Robert’s Awa Bar and Farmers’ Market in Kaimū, Kalapana—you absolutely cannot miss their night market on Wednesday nights (5pm-9pm), what a blast. People come from all over to attend. There are a few stands with local produce and a ton of prepared foods (our seared ahi plate from Aloha Lehua was so good), crafts and jewelry, and you can get your chill on with glasses of rootsy awa (kava)—or hit the full bar.

There’s dancing, hula, picnic tables packed with friends and families and kids, and basically it’s like a big-ass block party. Aloha HQ, with probably some of the best people watching I’ve had in a long time (and you’re talking to someone who used to go to the End Up on Sundays in the ’90s, and THAT, my friends, was some people watching). Uncle Robert’s also does a Saturday morning market, but it’s not like the Wednesday night scene.

The local supermarkets were also pretty fun to navigate (like the family-owned KTA) because of all the different local products and ingredients, and be sure to pick up some Bubbie’s mochi! Island Naturals was another good one (it’s in Hilo and Pahoa), and much more on the organic side—it was a bit like Rainbow Grocery. But be prepared to pay—the cost to ship over all these items is no joke (which is why I brought two bottles of Champagne over in my checked bag for New Year’s Eve).

And then there’s the nature! My favorite beach was Kehena—you definitely want some sturdy shoes as you descend the cliffs, but the black sand beach is fantastic. There’s plenty of shade, plenty of hippies, and it’s very clothing optional. The powerful waves are initially a little hairy getting in and out, but once you’re past the break, it’s dreamy blue water to swim in. But when the surf is up, I can see it being a different story. And keep your eyes peeled for whales and dolphins swimming in the distance! Note that Sunday afternoons bring a drum circle, and Mondays are gay day. (Hey girl.)

Snorkeling in the tide pools at Kapoho was mind-blowing. Once you clamber out on the lava rocks (wear some aqua socks!), you can swim in a variety of calm tide pools—some are quite large—with the most beautiful array of sea life (oh my God, the parrot fish!) and coral too! There were so many brilliantly colored fish, and I even got a surprise visit from a moray eel hiding under a rock (which actually scared the bejeezus out of me—as my friend said, “I have never backed away from a fish so fast before!”). The water is both ocean-fed and spring-fed, which creates some interesting layers, and also benefits from some volcanic heating too.

There’s also a warm thermal pool you can soak in at Ahalanui Beach Park—it’s a good spot for the kiddies because the pool is walled in and very calm (it would be nice in the evening under the stars too). The water is a mix of springwater and salt water, and there’s an outdoor shower where you can rinse off.

If you want to take some yoga classes, hit up a weeklong tantric festival, enjoy ecstatic dance, or just come by for a communal meal on their spacious lanai (and a late-night swim in their huge and clothing-optional pool), Kalani is a popular destination and retreat center/eco-resort. You can stay on property too.

I was very lucky to stay with my friends, who know so many people in their neighborhood (Puna Beach Palisades)—it’s a tight community. Being invited to people’s homes for a variety of parties and kikis was really a treat (I felt right at home in the gayberhood). While a bit remote, even if you were just renting a home there for a week, you’d definitely make some pals. Everyone is quite friendly—refreshingly so.

Like many Hawaiian homes, my friends’ place has an ohana (cottage) on property for friends and family, so lucky me, I got to stay in a windowless (but screened!) room behind the main house for nine days. So magic. It was a little damp in my jungle abode, but waking up to the rain and shimmering plants and going to sleep to the sounds of the frogs chirping every night was enchanting. If you’re interested in renting Rob and Christian’s place, take a look here. I loved the height of the main house—you get a nice view, fresh air, and minimal mosquitoes. Oh yeah, and there’s an outdoor shower! Highly recommended under the stars at night.

Across the street was our neighbor Robert Trickey’s house, Pohakunani. It’s pretty famous in the area because, well, it’s a modernist marvel of a space, so airy and spacious, with the stark lava flow in the background. Drama! And there’s a beautiful pool and guesthouse. (And you can rent it!)

After working with Robert Trickey on his dream house, SF architect Craig Steely was hired to build some other homes in the area. Just across the street is Hale ‘Ohai, another modern beauty you can stay in, surrounded with monkeypod trees. The owners, Paul and Mike, have created quite a charming oasis.

Eats/Grinds:

Soon after I landed in Hilo, my pals scooped me up and we headed to Suisan Fish Market (a retail shop) for some poke (say “poh-keh,” or “poh-kee” for a more pidgin pronunciation). They have a variety of ready-to-eat poke in the case, which you can get on brown rice or lettuce, or just pack up and bring home, along with fresh fish too.

We randomly popped into Papa’a Palaoa Bakery and were so happy we did—not only do the kind owners makes some tasty breads, but they also offer a couple of kinds of premade sandwiches (we snagged meatloaf and chicken salad), just $3 each (!) and perfect to pick up before any beach trips or excursions. Don’t pass up the cardamom coffee cake either.

After a day at the beach, hit the Hilo Bay Sugar Shack for halo-halo (shaved ice with evaporated milk, coconut palm, agar agar, and avocado [it’s an island thing], topped with ube/purple yam ice cream), plus other shaved ice and ice cream treats.

If you are planning to visit Akaka Falls, don’t miss a stop at Mr. Ed’s Bakery on the way for a staggering selection of jams and butters made from local and exotic tropical fruits. (I wanted to buy at least 20.)

I’m bummed we weren’t able to dine at Tina’s Garden Gourmet Café in Hilo—I was hoping to try her unique spin on Thai with ingredients from her garden, but the timing didn’t work out (a lot of places closed around the New Year). Sombat’s Thai is more traditional, but reportedly good Thai as well, with some chef garden/ingredient action too.

Some local folks also recommended Hilo Bay Café (which also has a nice view) and Moon and Turtle, both on my list for next time.

If you’re craving some local flavors, I hear Hawaiian Style Café has loco moco and a whole lot more for breakfast and lunch.

I look forward to returning soon—I’ll make my way to the Kona side next time. If you have any Big Island tips, please send ‘em along since I barely scratched the surface! Mahalo!

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A beautiful installation at the ferry terminal. All photos: © tablehopper.com.

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Morning view of Victoria Harbour from the InterContinental Hong Kong.

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Wonton and noodle soup in the Cathay Pacific lounge at SFO.

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Premium economy on Cathay Pacific. Photo courtesy of Cathay Pacific.

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My incredible studio at Upper House.

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My Upper House bathtub and view.

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Waking up in your Upper House room is something really special.

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The nighttime view of Hong Kong from the Kowloon side.

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The gorgeous jade and dim sum at Yan Toh Heen at the InterContinental Hong Kong.

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The dining room (and jade room dividers) at Yan Toh Heen.

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The old school glamour of Man Wah at the Mandarin Oriental.

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Black Iberian pork with chin kiang vinegar and pear at Man Wah.

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Baked abalone puff with diced chicken at Lung King Heen.

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The inside of the chashu pork bun at Tim Ho Wan.

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Inside the tiny kitchen at Tim Ho Wan.

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The famed XLB at Din Tai Fung.

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The fried chicken wing stuffed with bird’s nest at Celebrity Cuisine.

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The chef counter at Bo Innovation.

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Sichuan hollandaise with lobster, Chinese leek dumpling, charred corn, and xiaoshing chile consommé at Bo Innovation.

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Man making “stocking tea” (“nai cha” milk tea) on our Hong Kong Foodie Tour.

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Beef brisket noodles at Kau Kee.

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Fried snake at Shia Wong Hip.

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One of the tastiest drinks on the trip: the Stumptown coffee shochu at Yardbird.

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The entrance to Ho Leek Fook.

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The roast Wagyu short ribs at Ho Lee Fook.

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The unique and artsy style of Bibo.

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The busy bar at Quinary.

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Rooftop bar action.

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My elegant Harbour Room at the Mandarin Oriental.

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This is how to do a hangover breakfast (I felt better just looking at it). At the Mandarin Oriental.

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My room (and view) at the InterContinental Hong Kong.

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Bellhop at the InterContinental.

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The hopper at The Peak!

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Hong Kong Observation Wheel.

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The incense is thick at Man Mo Temple.

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Learning about tea at LockCha.

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Now that’s what I call some signage.

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Business class cabin on Cathay Pacific. Photo courtesy of Cathay Pacific.

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Dim sum and The Big Lebowski in business class on Cathay Pacific. This is living.

I got together for lunch with a publicist friend of mine who represents Cathay Pacific, pretty much a favorite airline of travelers everywhere. We were talking about doing a promotion on tablehopper for their new premium economy class, when she leaned over the table and asked me, “Marcia, have you been to Hong Kong?” My answer, “Not yet,” although it had been on my heart’s desire list for too long, right up there with Tokyo, Bangkok, and Buenos Aires.

After a couple of meetings, I was invited by the Hong Kong Tourism Board to come visit (NO WAY!), and we ended up crafting the ultimate in dream itineraries. I couldn’t believe it, I was finally going to the land of chashu pork buns and roast goose and dan tat (egg custard tarts). (I also stayed on for a few extra days on my own, as I usually do when I go on a press trip somewhere.)

Flying Cathay Pacific will kind of ruin you for most other airlines. They just finished updating their SFO lounge, where you can start your day with noodle and wonton soup, refresh with a shower in the marble stalls if you’re on a long trip, and lounge in cushy chairs while reading Time Out Hong Kong and sipping on an iced coffee, which is what I did.

After priority boarding, the most gracious flight attendants will take good care of you (they could give the world lessons on manners), and I couldn’t believe how much room I had—the new premium economy made the business class of some other airlines look shabby in comparison. They stuffed us with lunch after takeoff, and then dinner too. Why thank you. And now it’s time for a nap (my seat reclined with a leg rest, so civilized).

I thought I understood hospitality, but it wasn’t until I arrived at Hong Kong’s Upper House in the evening, my mouth still agape from the psychedelic sky-high skyscraper light show as my driver took me to Pacific Place (where Upper House is located). Outside, a small group of people were waiting and descended on our car like a scene out of a movie, escorting me up the escalator and whisking my bags into the most chic, sleek, glamorous hotel room, one that felt like a penthouse apartment, with its wraparound views of Victoria Harbour and the dense, tropical hills behind me. I felt like I needed to invite Halston and Calvin Klein over for a cocktail party, it had such a louche, retro luxe but timeless style.

My welcome team checked me in while in my Upper Suite (70, Island View), brought a glass of Champagne to go with the cheese plate they already had in my room, and proceeded to blow my mind further with the most thoughtful amenities, from a leather luggage tag and bag to a dim sum guidebook. Looking out the windows, taking this all in, I remember thinking, “It’s too much. Is this my life? How did I get this lucky?” I don’t have answers. But I do know I was overwhelmed with this unique abundance of generosity, luxury, and kindness.

I was giddy and needed to wind down and try to get some sleep. Time for Champagne in the tub! The enormous bathroom had the most glorious soaking tub, big enough for two, with a staggering view. (I couldn’t bear to descend the shades, so someone may have seen a full moon that night, heh.) I loved all the soft and serene lighting in the studio—it felt like such an oasis of calm.

Waking up in that glorious bed and opening all the automatic shades to that captivating view was quite a way to start the day—truly breathtaking. Again, I felt like I was in a movie. And every time I returned to my room, I found a new handwritten note from the team, asking if I was enjoying my stay (plus a bunch of sweet emails after I left). The level of warmth and personability here felt like a boutique hotel—actually, like a B&B—but pure luxury.

Upper House is quite beautiful—it opened in 2009 and was designed by André Fu and features contemporary art and sculptures throughout. The 117 rooms are perched on the upper floors of the building—from 38 to 49, hence the name—and there’s the swanky Café Gray Bar (go for cocktails in the evening) and Deluxe restaurant on the 49th floor (the Gray is chef Gray Kunz). Start your day there with the Upper East breakfast (it would be a great spot for a biz breakfast), complete with corn and crab congee, turnip cake, fried egg noodles, and a medley of dim sum, like har gow and a steamed chashu pork bun. They noticed how much I enjoyed the sweet and sour chile paste, and before I left, provided me with a recipe and small jar from the chef. #flabbergasted

You can look at my photo album of the entire trip here.

In general, the kindness and manners of people in Hong Kong is notable. I remember taking a picture of the exterior of the Tai Cheong bakery, and people stopped walking so I could take the pic. What? In a city of more than 7 million people, one of the most dense metropolises in the world, that is quite amazing. I also noticed how quiet drivers were. Didn’t hear a single honk out of my many cabdrivers, even in the most harrowing of traffic jams.

I have been on many subways around the world, and the MTR in HK was not only easy to navigate and spotless, but everyone was so polite and conscious of personal space. And I encountered the general kindness of strangers daily, from shared smiles with cooks in steamy kitchens to the grandma helping me pick out yao tiew (Chinese doughnut) for my congee.

There is a lot to take in and I walked a ton (gotta burn off those dumplings)—fortunately the mild weather in January was perfection. I can’t imagine the heat and intense humidity in the summer, I know I would be writing a very different piece!

You have to explore both sides of Hong Kong—Hong Kong Island and the Kowloon side. I’m so glad I stayed on both sides. You can’t miss the evening light show and view of the Hong Kong skyline, which you can only witness from the Kowloon side. You can easily take a cab (when you need to go to the other side, you have to make a rolling gesture with your arm like a snake in order to hail one), grab a boat (definitely do this, it’s scenic and so cheap), and there’s that subway (the MTR—which also has a great airport express line, FYI).

I was fortunate to explore the high end and the day to day in HK, here were some favorite places to eat:

Dim Sum

Yan Toh Heen
The most elegant dim sum I encountered, with a gorgeous dining room to match (which was recently remodeled in 2013), was at the two-Michelin-star Yan Toh Heen at the InterContinental (on the Kowloon side). The place is tricked out in more jade than you’d imagine, from the panels at the entrance all the way to your place setting, with a jade-handled spoon and chopstick rest. (I couldn’t stop staring at everything and pivoting my head around like an owl.)

Chef Lau Yiu Fai’s dim sum was so refined, delicate, and utterly delicious, from a gossamer-thin steamed seafood dumpling in soup with king crab and bamboo pith, to wok-fried minced pigeon prepared tableside, served with caviar and lettuce cups. I went crazy for their XO sauce. Dishes are inventive too—how about crispy pork, duck liver, burrata, and dried shrimp with preserved vegetables dim sum? (And chef has been with the hotel since 1980 and obviously has not lost inspiration.)

Dessert is a showstopper, with basil dragon pearl with ginger ice cream and a tower of fresh fruit tucked into shaved ice. Extraordinary. You can also experience the delicacy bird’s nest on top of their dan tat. Quality wines, and plenty of special dishes you can request ahead of time if you really want to splash out (their Peking duck is a signature).

Man Wah
My other favorite dining room was at Man Wah on the 25th floor at the glam Mandarin Oriental. The room is breathtaking, with an undulating ceiling of black lacquered enamel with gold accents, vintage gold lamps that look like birdcages with tassels hanging underneath, and the kicker, tablecloths and painted sections of the ceiling that were a rosy, Pepto pink. Drama! It’s glorious. I was ready to move in. The room harks back to an older elegance, and the view out the framed windows is truly stunning.

Chef Chi-Kwong Hung’s menu is abundant. It’s a swanky place for lunch, and you can taste classic dim sum like well-executed siu mai, a delicate beef tenderloin puff with black pepper sauce, and crabmeat with green pea, charmingly served in the shape of a pea pod. A restorative soup with sea conch, lily bulb, longan, and lotus seed was unlike anything I’ve had before, and probably one of the sexiest dishes of my life was the stir-fried lobster with silky egg white, scallop mousse, and caviar, with gold leaf on top that picked up the shimmer of the lanterns.

Chinese barbecue, take your pick. But then there’s the black Iberian pork, which was as flavorful as it was pretty (the tang from the chin kiang vinegar and pear kept it from feeling too cloying), and I hope to have their glutinous fried rice with preserved Chinese sausage (lap cheong) again in my life—each grain had such perfect wok fire. Somehow, find room for some traditional Cantonese desserts, like almond cream with sesame dumpling, and red bean cream with lotus seed, tangerine peel, and sesame dumpling.

Lung King Heen
You’ll need a reservation in advance for this high-end spot at the Four Seasons, which has three Michelin stars (executive chef Chan Yan Tak was the first Chinese chef to earn three). You’ll have access to some amazing wines (the somm poured us an impressive Chinese wine!), and the baked abalone puff with diced chicken will blow your mind—ditto the baked chicken “casserole” with black truffle, which was so juicy. The fried puntalette (orzo) with minced beef in XO chile sauce was another fave. While I found the details to be more attended to at Yan Toh Heen (example: some of the dishes here had drops on the side and weren’t wiped down), it was still a memorable lunch.

Tim Ho Wan
You absolutely have to head over to the Kowloon side for dim sum at this extraordinary place in Sham Shui Po. Chef Mak Kwai Pui (such a kind, gracious, talented man) makes the best barbecue pork bun I’ve ever had—trust, you need this benchmark in your life—you will have never experienced such flavor and texture.

Also of note: the cheung fen (rice noodle/vermicelli roll) filled with your choice of meat (including pig’s liver); the steamed egg cake; pan-fried turnip cake; egg roll with shrimp and egg white; steamed dumplings (try the Chiu Chow style); and an extra order of the char siu bao. It’s packed, popular, and casual—with a team running around in lime green polo shirts—but also has a Michelin star; one bite of the made-to-order dumplings and it becomes abundantly clear why. Tim Ho Wan now has locations all over, like Taiwan and Singapore—fingers crossed chef Mak comes to SF at some point. I tried my best to convince him.

Din Tai Fung
I was not going to let the opportunity to have Din Tai Fung’s xiao long bao in my life slip by, oh hell no. There’s a spacious location in the Silvercord shopping mall (Tsim Sha Tsui), and the line moves pretty quickly, don’t feel daunted. While the XLB were quite superlative (oh so many delicate folds in the silky wrapper, like 18!), I was disappointed they weren’t piping hot, so eat them immediately (and the little cloth they are served on so they don’t stick was quite ingenious). The steamed vegetable and pork bun gave me the hit of greens I was craving, and the pan-fried shrimp and pork dumplings came with a crisp layer you tap through like the lid on a good crème brûlée.

Cantonese

Celebrity Cuisine
When I couldn’t get a reservation for The Chairman, this was a recommendation from a local, who told me Celebrity is known for its traditional Cantonese dishes (chef Cheng Kam Fu has earned a couple of Michelin stars since opening in 2010). It’s hidden away above the street in the Lan Kwai Fong Hotel, and the décor felt very ’80s, with purple walls, oddly large chairs that looked like they belonged at a card table in a bonus room in a Palm Springs mansion circa 1982, and just two small dining rooms.

The must-order dish—the expertly fried chicken wing stuffed with bird’s nest—totally got our attention (you can see how it’s made here), followed by a delicate steamed crab claw in egg white and some really tasty sweet and sour pork (I was told to order it, and I’m glad I did!). A few other dishes we tried were good but not memorable. It was a quirky excursion, with some good moments, but not necessarily one I’d return for.

Bo Innovation
I’m so glad that one of my last meals in HK was at the chef counter at Bo Innovation. I have met chef Alvin Leung (aka The Demon Chef) on his many visits to San Francisco, and remember the first time I tried his playful and molecular take on xiao long bao at an event here. I was fortunate to catch him while he was in town (the guy has a busy schedule—he’s opening R&D in Toronto and is a judge on MasterChef Canada).

The tasting menu features a spin on many famous Hong Kong dishes and ingredients, and after a week of eating through the city, I was able to understand many of the references. It was a very satisfying way to wrap up the week!

Leung has created his own style of cuisine, which he calls X-treme Chinese. You’ll see plenty of technique and molecular tricks and a lot of humor too (plus one shocker dish he’s famous for). It’s a totally interactive meal, and I thoroughly enjoyed all the different dishes, bowls, and vessels he has created for each course. There were some fantastic dishes—especially the brilliant Sichuan hollandaise in a lobster dumpling dish with xiaoshing chile consommé—and I ended up learning about so many Chinese ingredients too.

There were some spot-on wine pairings, and the staff was engaging. I got a kick out of the two wealthy tai-tais dining at my left at the counter—we talked about food the whole night. Leave it to the lady with the big rocks on her hand to send me to the most awesome little congee spot (Chung Kee Congee, 275-285 Hennessy Rd.) in Wanchai—way to keep it real, HK.

Hong Kong Foodie Tours
One of my favorite activities on this trip was the food tour I took of Sham Shui Po with Hong Kong Foodie Tours. I learned so much about this fascinating neighborhood and tried new dishes I would have had a hard time discovering on my own, even after years of living in HK. The balance of food, culture, and architecture facts was awesome. I liked the focus on small places and touring a wet market in Kowloon was so cool. Also was happy to be brought to a kitchen shop (Leung Tim Choppers Factory) where I was able to score a couple of cleavers to bring home. I’ll come back to HK and take their other tours for sure.

You can look at my photo album of the entire trip here, and you’ll definitely want to check out the tour pics, starting here.

Kau Kee Noodle (21 Gough St. in Central)
At some point you have to get your heinie over to this noodle institution (90 years and counting) and try their beef brisket noodles. Their beef curry is also amazing. It’s a tiny, popular spot—we had good luck scoring a table by coming by at the end of the night (around 9:30pm).

Mak’s Noodle
There are a few locations, both Central and the Kowloon side, and Mak’s is known for its wonton noodle soup.

Shia Wong Hip (170 Apliu St., Sham Shui Po)
And just in case you want to eat some snake, because, Hong Kong, I thought the fried version I had with black bean and garlic was pretty tasty at this old-school spot.

Tai Cheong Bakery (G/F, Lyndhurst Building, 35 Lyndhurst Terrace)
Is it wrong that I didn’t loooooove the dan tat at this institution? I think all the amazing pasteis I was eating in Lisbon a couple of months earlier ruined me, but I was happy to discover that our dear Golden Gate Bakery really is that good.

Street Food in Wanchai
Walk around at night and eat all the things (including fish balls and cuttlefish in spicy curry sauce).

Hip, Fun, Non-Cantonese Spots

Yardbird
This yakitori-heavy izakaya in Sheung Wan from Matt Abergel and Lindsay Jang is a must-visit for anyone who adores chicken—Abergel does amazing things with the bird, absolutely don’t miss the succulent neck with yuzu kosho and the tsukune/meatball. Other hits on the menu: the KFC (Korean fried cauliflower), corn tempura, and chicken and egg rice.

Check out their house label junmai nigori (the family who makes it has been doing so for 400 years), and the dangerously delicious shochu they infuse with Stumptown coffee and serve shaken—it will get you loaded if you don’t watch it. I speak from experience.

The vibe is fun and lively, with soul pumping on the sound system and an expat crowd putting back cocktails while snacking on pan-seared Korean rice cakes with furikake. The bar is where to be, but the place doesn’t take reservations, so take what you can get. Also groundbreaking here: they don’t charge a service charge like everywhere else, so be sure to tip.

Two other spots from this group: Ronin, a counter-only Japanese restaurant in SOHO (book a reservation), and Sunday’s Grocery, where you can score some sick takeout sandwiches (like a chicken schnitzel or katsu) to fix your Yardbird hangover.

Ho Lee Fook
The name alone should let you know you’re in for some fun, but Taiwan-native chef Jowett Yu has some serious chops (he’s well known in Sydney for Mr. Wong, Ms. G’s, and working at the renowned Tetsuya). The menu here isn’t strictly Cantonese, far from it—you’ll see all kinds of dishes, let’s just call it freestyle Asian. The steak tartare is the spin on tartare I have long been looking for, with mint, Thai basil, fish sauce, bird’s eye chiles, and fried shallots (it reminded me of the sliced raw beef salad at Yummy Yummy). A love child of shrimp toast and okonomiyaki is pure evil, loaded with cabbage, bonito, and Kewpie mayo, ditto the well-made Mom’s “mostly cabbage, a little bit of pork” dumplings.

I hope you’re with a group, because I don’t want you to have to choose between the meaty Kurobuta pork char siu (all juicy and lacquered and sticky) and the roast Wagyu short ribs—so succulent inside with crispy edges, thanks, deep fryer—that you drag through a jalapeño purée, and the accompanying bites of a kicky green onion salad dressed with green shallot kimchi. Whoa. HO LEE FOOK. Cocktails are refreshing, and even though I didn’t grow up on Horlicks, the Breakfast 2.0 dessert is a winner, but the mandarin granita was what I really needed at the end of this tour de force of mad flavor.

Superfun design here (G.O.D. is behind it), with mah-jongg tiles covering the wall in front of the open kitchen, the wall of waving good luck kitties as you descend to the clubby dining room downstairs, with backlit artwork on the wall. It’s part of the Black Sheep Restaurants group, which includes Boqueria, Motorino, La Vache!, Chôm Chôm, Carbone, Le Garcon Saigon, and Burger Circus.

Speaking of Chôm Chôm, it’s a fun spot to come by for a beer and some well-executed Vietnamese street food. Don’t miss their banh mi, only served 4pm-6:30pm.

Bibo
This one-of-a-kind place on Hollywood Road in Sheung Wan is a French restaurant, Blade Runner-esque bar (just wait until the sliding door opens), and contemporary art gallery all in one (we’re talking Jean‑Michel Basquiat, Vhils, Jeff Koons, Takashi Murakami, and Damien Hirst). Chef Mutaro Balde offers a contemporary French menu—there’s a prix-fixe for lunch and a larger menu for dinner. Excellent wines to choose from—I had never seen the silver chalice they poured my Champagne into before (it’s by Puiforcat—it had little cuts inside to enhance the distribution of the bubbles more, and stayed nice and cold).

The food was pleasant enough, and lunch was extremely reasonable, but personally, I wouldn’t come here to dine unless I lived in HK—as a visitor, I’m looking for more unique and Cantonese experiences. Then again, if you are into art or restaurant design, you really have to see it. At least come by for a drink (FYI, Man Mo Temple is just across the street, another must-see).

Five places on my long list for next time
-The Chairman
-Yat Lok for roast goose and lai fun noodles
-High tea at The Peninsula
-Fook Lam Moon for dim sum
-Mong Kok night market

To Drink

Quinary
I had some of my favorite cocktails at this hipster spot on Hollywood Road, and the crew working there were fun and talented.

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The experience of finding this speakeasy at night, the entrance hidden away in a wet market, was a total adventure. Beautiful space, but the cocktails weren’t very balanced. I’d still go back and order something simple because the space was really that cool. (Search online for clues about the address!)

Rooftop Bars
You have to go to at least one, the vertigo alone is unlike anything else! One spot I went to was WooLooMooLoo—nothing like having a whiskey on an open roof when you’re 31 floors up!

More Fab Hotels I Stayed At

Mandarin Hotel
It was such a special opportunity to stay at this renowned international hotel’s flagship property, The Mandarin, which opened in Hong Kong in 1963. There is an old-world luxury that permeates this Central property, which has 430 rooms and some tremendous views. I stayed in a Harbour Room, with a view of Victoria Harbour and the Hong Kong Observation Wheel.

I definitely felt like I was in Hong Kong, with the rich colors and fabrics in the room, the sexy bathroom, and they even give you a choice of two different bathrobes: purple Asian silky or classic cotton terry. The bed, sheets, and pillows were downright dreamy (plus the best blackout curtains!), and every night you come home to some little surprise, like a lavender spray to help you sleep. You feel quite pampered, and that’s before you experience their spa!

Many details are about guest comfort here, like the delivery pass-through chamber they put things in (such as your morning paper) so they don’t disturb you. I was infinitely charmed to find housekeeping had wrapped up my iPhone charger cord into a perfect little bundle. The property is packed with dining options, from Man Wah (mentioned above) to their famous cake shop M Bar and The Chinnery, a British lounge.

InterContinental Hong Kong
I was happy to spend my last four nights on the Kowloon side, because nothing can beat the views of Victoria Harbour and the Hong Kong skyline from this 503-room hotel, which is located right on the waterfront. I can only imagine what it’s like for Chinese New Year!

My room was comfortable (dug the pink Italian marble in the bathroom), but after the understated elegance of the Mandarin Oriental and Upper House, I thought the room was also a bit too cluttered with paperwork and marketing offers (it definitely feels more corporate). The hotel staff was delightful, from the white-gloved bellhops to the amazingly informative staff at the concierge desk—I scored some excellent Kowloon food tips (there is a lot to see and eat nearby!).

Everywhere you go in the hotel, you’ll see sweeping views (they even had a fêng shui master consult on the hotel design before it opened in 1980). They’re famous for their Presidential Suite, the largest in Hong Kong (7,000 square feet), which costs almost $13,000 a night (whoa)—I got a tour and was blown away with the view, just beyond.

But it was really lunch at Yah Toh Heen (mentioned above) that captivated me the most, what a special experience. There are other dining options, including Spoon by Alain Ducasse and some serious breakfast and lunch buffet action at Harbourside (Hong Kong is big on the Sunday buffets). Be sure to enquire about their “In the Know” classes: you can learn about everything from how to make dim sum to food and market tours to tips about buying pearls and jade. I got a tour of the spa and outdoor swimming pool, which looked pretty marvelous. Again, that view!

A Few Things Not to Miss:

A Symphony of Lights (nightly!)

The Peak
Victoria Peak a great place to start your trip and take in the tremendous views—you’ll ride a tram to the top. Be sure to go for a walk on Lugard Road—it’s very scenic, and a good place to cool off and get some fresh air.

Hong Kong Observation Wheel
A tremendous Ferris wheel, with 42 enclosed gondolas (there’s a VIP one with a crystal floor too). I’d recommend hitting this up at night so you can take in all the lights!

Man Mo Temple
Be sure to visit this extraordinary temple, rich with incense, for worshiping the god of literature and god of warriors.

Wet Markets
Even if you don’t take a food tour, make time to wander the many wet markets—you’ll find some in Wanchai, and there’s a chef’s market on Lyndhurst Terrace near the bottom of the escalator.

Tea at LockCha
Sunday evenings at the LockCha teahouse (in Hong Kong Park) are totally restorative, with beautiful music (every Sunday for the past 14 years!), exquisite tea (more than 100 kinds), and 12-15 kinds of vegetarian dim sum. I was so lucky to have a personal tea session with Mr. Ip Wing-chi, and learned his shop was the first to offer single-day harvested teas. He also showed me the correct way to wash your tea and hold your cup. Read more about this fascinating man (and tea) here. (Next time, after my tea, I will visit Yi Xin, a classic Cantonese restaurant he recommended that is within walking distance.)

Jade Market
I found the experience to be a bit chaotic and stressful (everyone is barking for you to come to their stand, and then you have to haggle haggle haggle), but my publicist pal at the InterContinental recommends stall #148—her friend Alice runs it, and reportedly has nice things.

Elegant Tang (Li Yuen Street East)
This was the best place to pick up inexpensive gifts for everyone, from silky shoe bags to coin purses. Thanks again to Carole at InterContinental for this awesome tip! (You can wander down Li Yuen West for more shopping…)

I ended up bringing home many different kinds of XO sauce (from Mandarin Oriental, Upper House, Yan Toh Heen, and, of course, The Peninsula, where it was invented)—these would make awesome gifts as well!

Think about getting a foot massage on arrival and before heading home—you’ll see crazy cheap massage places all over the place (especially on Nathan Road).

Flying home on business class on Cathay Pacific was definitely the pièce de résistance—not only do they have some of the best airport lounges, but the dim sum breakfast I had on my flight was tops. Such notable quality of food, again.

You can sleep comfortably, fully flat, with a comforter and plenty of room for side sleepers. And let me tell you, watching The Big Lebowski while drinking a White Russian before bedtime is the way to do it. I woke up for arrival in SFO feeling fantastic, and like one lucky lady.

I’d like to give a particular thank-you to Rainbow Wong (her real, fabulous name!), my delightful tour guide assigned by the Hong Kong Tourism Board, who made my trip so extra special—what a lovely person to explore Hong Kong with! She taught me so much about the culture, the people, and of course the food. M’goi!!

And tremendous thanks and gratitude to Cathay Pacific and Hong Kong Tourism Board for this trip of a lifetime. I will remember it always, and I hope it inspires many of you, dear readers, to discover Hong Kong!

You can look at my photo album of the entire trip here.

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The spa at Indian Springs. Photo courtesy of Indian Springs.

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Entrance to the historic pool. Photo: © tablehopper.com.

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The huge main pool with thermal waters. Photo: © tablehopper.com.

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An overhead shot of the massive pool. Photo courtesy of Indian Springs.

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The lounge and bar at Sam’s Social Club. Photo: © tablehopper.com.

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The dining room at Sam’s Social Club. Photo: © tablehopper.com.

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The patio at Sam’s Social Club. Photo: © tablehopper.com.

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Halibut ceviche at Sam’s. Photo: © tablehopper.com.

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Eggs in a hole for brunch at Sam’s. Photo: © tablehopper.com.

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One of the view rooms. Photo courtesy of Indian Springs.

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Island vibes in the bathroom. Photo courtesy of Indian Springs.

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The view from our geyser view room. Photo: © tablehopper.com.

Have you ever been somewhere for the first time, and you got so mad at yourself for not having gone there sooner? Experiencing my first mud bath at ~INDIAN SPRINGS~ in Calistoga was like that. As soon as I pulled up to the spa—with its charming Mission Revival historic building, palm trees, and punchy orange table umbrellas—I felt like I was visiting a resort in Palm Springs that had been magically dropped down into Calistoga.

Talking to some of my long-term San Francisco friends, they remember when it was Pacheteau Baths, up until 1988, when Pat and John Merchant bought the property and renamed it Indian Springs. But the history of this land stretches back 8,000 years, when the Wapoo Indians settled here, creating sweat lodges and enjoying the mineral waters.

It’s pretty remarkable: the Indian Springs property has four geysers, and all the volcanic ash they use for the mud baths is from the property as well. Back when Sam Brannan owned all of upper Napa Valley, he envisioned the area as a resort. He built the original spa, mud baths, pool, and a racetrack—in 1861! Leland Stanford bought the property in 1880, and then the Pacheteaus took it over in 1905.

This place has deep roots—and total juju. And here’s the thing: after you steam in that intense ash-mud bath, you get to soak in warm thermal mineral water in a clawfoot tub that dates back to who knows when, and even the little wood shelf that holds your water and rests over the width of the tub looked older than me two times over, with its wooden nail and handcrafted edges.

It’s worth noting that there are a few moments when you’ll be totally nekkid and exposed to others (like your mud bath attendant), so if you’re modest, you can request a disposable swimsuit. (Don’t worry, the men and ladies are in separate areas in the spa.) When you’re soaking in your tub, there will be a few other people in the room as well, and someone else may be with you in the sauna. I dug the NorCal naturalism of it, and everyone seemed pretty chill about it, but if you’re modest, you can make a few adjustments. (Hopper says relax. And yes, that is a Frankie reference.)

After a good steam in the wet sauna (also powered with mineral water), you’ll be brought to an area that I called the human corral—there are open-ceilinged rooms with wood-slat walls lined up next to each other, each with a bed where you’ll be wrapped up in a cotton sheet and left to rest and daydream for a bit while your body returns to its natural temperature. (I just wish they would make that area a strict no-talking zone—some chatty spa guests walking by made a lot of racket.) And then it’s time to go to the massage you hopefully booked for yourself, or you can go hang out in a lounge chair by the tranquil Buddha Pond, or head over to the Olympic-sized pool filled with mineral water.

The main pool is magnificent. It was built in 1913 and is one of the largest pools in California. When you consider it’s filled with thermal mineral water, it’s incredibly impressive. The water is blissfully warm (anywhere from 92-102 degrees) and feels so silky on your skin. And healing. You’ll hear the water trumpeting out of the earth nearby (at 230 degrees!), and it then cools off in a series of reservoirs before it makes its way into the pools. It feels so…alive. Because it is.

A few things to note: the pool used to be open to the public, but the resort has now made it available only to hotel and spa guests (so if you can’t stay at the resort, you can book a spa treatment and the pool is complimentary Mon-Fri and $30 on weekends and holidays). Hotel guests have an extra advantage: you can use the pool up until midnight, while spa guests can only access it until 7pm. Let me tell you, floating in that hundred-year-old pool under the stars is downright special. (And then you get to towel off your tired bones and toddle off to bed.) Oh, and for a little more peace and quiet, there’s an adjacent adult pool as well.

A big move for the property was building their on-site restaurant, Sam’s Social Club (named in honor of Sam Brannan), which opened early in 2015. They brought on chef Kory Stewart, previously at Americano, who is doing a bang-up job with the menu. After eating some of his bright and vibrant dishes, I said to my dining partner, “This is a happy chef. These are happy dishes.” You can taste it. Of course, being there at the end of summer, tasting perfectly ripened watermelon dusted with ghost chile salt and Brentwood corn soup topped with “salumi salsa” (it’s as good as it sounds) on the spacious back patio under the oak trees will put anyone into a chipper state of mind.

The menu is full of snacks ($7), ten in all (like fried green tomatoes with bacon rémoulade, yes please), matched with an equal number of starters. Don’t miss the market ceviche ($17) with sweet potato chips—it was one of the best ones I have had. The line-caught halibut was so fresh, and you could really taste the delicate fish—instead of overdoing it like almost every ceviche you’ve ever had, Stewart cured it just so with lime.

We saw a lot of tables with the cheeseburger on it, and his rotisserie chicken looked good, too, but we went for the housemade casareccia pasta with guanciale and tomato ($24), sporting a warm heat from the Calabrese chile. Kudos on the well-made pasta and great sauce, but the guanciale was cut into some odd shapes, some almost the size of lardons—I would have liked them much smaller. Meanwhile, the grilled octopus ($15) had the opposite fate—it was cut into such small pieces you could barely discern it was octopus. These are small quibbles on an otherwise really delicious meal. Everything is served at the height of its season, and you can see Stewart is sourcing his ingredients like he’s still right across from the Ferry Building.

You probably have been smelling something warm and maple-y throughout the evening, and that would be the candy cap churros ($9) being brought to tables. Stewart was known for his candy cap desserts at Americano, and I was happy to have another taste here—the churros were so donut-y and cakey, don’t miss ‘em (you can also have them at breakfast!). The butterscotch and coconut bread pudding ($9) was another winner.

Brunch the next day was quality—Stewart is a fan of mushrooms (he’s a big forager), so the omelet ($14) with corn, mushrooms, chives, and Piave cheese (hold the truffle oil for me, thanks!) was the way to go. But then there’s the eggs in a hole ($13), with the creamy eggs tucked into Parmesan-crusted housemade brioche, topped with a mushroom fondue, and some really good home fries, with the richness cut with arugula on the side. You can steam it off later. Heh.

The bar and lounge have such a welcoming and handsome style, with a whimsical/folksy mural behind the bar, plus good lighting and comfortable seating—it’s going to be really cozy in the winter (complete with a fireplace). The space transitions well from the evening to being an airy and light-filled room during the day. The style fits in with the Calistoga surroundings and rest of the property—it has some subtle Western touches that hark back to its history.

If you’re staying on property, you get to ride their resort-branded Public bikes around, which makes you feel like a little kid again. You don’t have to worry about getting home a little tipsy after dinner (both the cocktail list and all-local wines by the glass are extensive, plus there’s a house-brewed IPA too)—just ride a little slower (it’s especially fun at night when you’re riding to the pools in your robe).

There are a variety of rooms you can choose from, whether it’s the original cottages, the bungalows, the lodge (renovated in 2005), or the the brand-new view rooms. We stayed in a new geyser view room, and I’d recommend requesting one on the top floor so you don’t hear people above you (but the ground floor was still very tranquil, don’t get me wrong). You have a view of the Geyser Pond, and either a terrace or balcony where you can chill.

The rooms have a cheerful and eclectic style, from the cornflower blue headboards to the Turkish blankets, while the tropical vibe of the bathroom made me feel like I was in a cottage on Barbados. The beds are really comfortable and come with soft linens—you’ll want to request a late checkout.

The good news is, even though the property feels like a dream summery getaway, it’s also going to be a perfect place to visit in the winter—that mud bath and a nighttime soak in the main pool have my name on them.

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The regal and grand look of Lisbon. All photos: © tablehopper.com.

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One of the many retro trams you’ll see.

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If you find the A Ginjinha stand, you have to stop for a shot.

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One of the extraordinary street pieces by Vhils.

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The exterior of the beloved Solar Dos Presuntos.

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Almejas à Bulhão Pato (clams in white wine) at Solar Dos Presuntos.

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This is what happiness looks like at Cervejaria Ramiro.

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Take your pick of the beautiful seafood at Cervejaria do Bairro.

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A homey dinner at A Baiúca.

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The hopper getting her Azeitão on (and bubbles, natch) at the Time Out Mercado da Ribeira.

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Taberna da Rua das Flores—winning at atmosphere.

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The massive Jerónimos Monastery.

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The famous pastéis de Belém.

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The first room (of five!) at the Pavilhão Chinês, one of the coolest bars I have ever been to.

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The bewitching gardens at Palácio e Quinta da Regaleira in Sintra.

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See if you can find these subterranean stairs at the Palácio e Quinta da Regaleira in Sintra.

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The utterly charming Luvaria Ulisses, ditto the owner, who is holding the green leather gloves I want to go back for.

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Dusk at the Praça do Comércio.

I was invited to attend a five-day Portuguese wine tasting and education trip that was going to begin in Lisbon, and you can bet I was sure to fly myself out early. Lisboa, I really had no idea how cool you were going to be, and it’s partly due to the fact there aren’t that many people in my life who have traveled there. And you know what? That’s a big mistake, because this city is a full-on gem. Paris, Rome, Istanbul, Barcelona, they all get lots of love, but Lisbon is kind of like the quieter guy in high school who goes away to college for a year and returns home the next summer and is suddenly smokin’ hot—the charms were there all along, but it took you awhile to really notice them.

The city has a bunch of interesting parallels with San Francisco: it’s really hilly, full of cheerful yellow trolleys traversing the city like bumblebees, and with fresh air and beautiful light thanks to its proximity to water. The compact size feels comparable. There’s the 25 de Abril Bridge which, like the Golden Gate Bridge, is a suspension bridge and is funnily enough painted a color very similar to our bridge’s International Orange. Every time you see it, it feels like you’re back in SF for a split second. And then there’s the shared tragic history of getting wiped out by a major earthquake—the majority of Lisbon had to be rebuilt after its 1755 earthquake (there was also a fire, and fortunately we didn’t have a tsunami like they did).

Where Lisbon really has us beat is how old it is—we’re talking roots in pre-Roman times—and then subsequent layers of civilization on top of it. The architecture here is so rich, and everywhere you look, there is such beauty, from all the vintage Deco lettering to buildings covered in alentejos (the classic blue tiles) to the pavimentos (slippery cobbled streets, with larger designs in city squares, just like you see in Rio). So much old-world craftsmanship, everywhere.

It’s a city built for wandering, full of winding streets and stairs and vistas, and you’ll suddenly happen upon a group of people gathered around the little A Ginjinha stand, a famous place known for its liqueur made with sour cherry, or a bakery that’s over 100 years old. I dug the grittiness, the incredible graffiti and street art (including some really cool neon pieces and mind-blowing pieces by Vhils), and how easy it was to get around. Although when it’s absolutely dumping down rain, you’re going to want to find a café to hang out in—I couldn’t believe how much water filled the streets during an evening downpour.

The city is also shockingly affordable: I rented a top-floor apartment in the charming Chiado neighborhood for $110 a night, with a breathtaking view of Castelo São Jorge (thanks, Airbnb!), and taking a cab around was crazy cheap (this is what happens when you leave San Francisco—you suddenly see how much you’re overpaying for everything). When I had my first meal and got my bill, I almost laughed at how little my glass of wine cost—I’m talking 3 euros. The Portuguese definitely know how to encourage you to drink a lot of their national product. And I did.

And let’s talk about the food. If you love seafood, this is your place. I had some of the best seafood of my life, and there’s nothing like wonderful hospitality to make food taste even better. Dining solo can be awkward in some cities, but I was treated quite kindly and warmly almost everywhere I went. It helps to have some basic Portuguese down, do your best.

Some favorites (and be sure to check out my photo album on Flickr:

Solar Dos Presuntos
This place is absolutely steeped in history, in regulars, in famous people—it’s like an Elaine’s of Lisbon (since 1974), with the walls of the two-level space covered in caricatures of politicians, stars, and athletes. I had plenty to look at in between making eyes at course after course of deliciousness. They serve thinly sliced Joselito presunto on a piece of lightly warmed slate, so the fat starts to melt. You will die. The huge fish tank when you walk in is also a clue to what you want—it’s all about seafood and classics here. I had the juiciest clams (almejas à Bulhão Pato) in a garlicky white wine broth, and perfect arroz with juicy prawns and lobster. My server made some great pairing suggestions, and dessert is death by the toucinilho (i.e., flan extreme) and a glass of moscatel roxo.

Cervejaria Ramiro
Yes, Andrew Zimmern and Anthony Bourdain have blown the lid off this classic seafood spot that has been open since the 1950s, but it’s damn special. I wandered in there in the midafternoon, and very luckily only had to wait 20 minutes for a seat at a table. I was sandwiched in with couples, families, lots of locals, and some happy tourists, the paper tablecloths quickly covered in crumbs from the buttery bread in front of every guest.

Luckily I could order smaller portions of seafood (by the kg) and proceeded to have my dream lady feast of percebes (finally got to try these dinosaur paw-looking barnacles, and the host was kind enough to show me the best technique for eating them), stunning deepwater shrimp (gambas do Algarve) in rock salt, and sweet langoustines. (Even with my bottle of vinho verde, my entire check came to €46, amazing.) As you can gather by the name, most people are drinking beers, which will go well with your “prego” at the end: a garlicky steak sandwich that is traditional to eat at the end of your meal. I know, what? I was too full to even attempt it. This place was full of soul—so many locals and regulars, and they treat everyone like family. Warm fuzzies.

Cervejaria do Bairro
For a more modern and sleek take on a cervejaria, check out this newer spot in the Bairro Alto neighborhood. There was an array of fresh seafood, like razor clams, clams in white wine, Algarve prawns, and percebes—all elegantly displayed on ice—plus plenty of small plates like croquettes and gorgeously sliced pata negra de Bellota to round out your meal. There’s a bar as well (good for solo diners), but this place is great with a group.

Cantinho do Avillez
During the wine portion of my trip, we were hosted for dinner at this restaurant in Chiado, a relaxed bistro from chef José Avillez (of two Michelin starred Belcanto fame). We started with some mighty tasty appetizers (fried green beans, baked “Nisa” cheese with honey), although for some reason they chose to serve us their prego (steak sandwich) for our main course, so I can’t comment on the larger dishes, but the menu looked really appealing (and affordable). It’s one I’ll come back to, as well as his newly launched Mini Bar, serving serious snacks and canapés.

A Baiúca (Rua da Barroca No. 86)
My first night, I wandered to a nearby spot a friend recommended (Tagide), but sadly they were closed for a private function. But the host steered me to this homey and no-frills place in the Bairro Alto neighborhood, with the walls covered in art and years of memories (a mother and daughter have run the place for 40 years). The guy from Tagide had even called ahead to give them a heads up that I was arriving (which was revealed to me later). Adorable. My swishy server Isidro melted me with his sassy charm while I got my Lisbon home cooking groove on with bacalhau roasted with cream, potatoes, and onions. (There are a bunch of bars and fado spots nearby that you can visit when you’re done with dinner.)

Time Out Mercado da Ribeira
Oh dear lord, this place was a glutton’s dream food court. Time Out magazine helped to reinvigorate this old food market in 2014, which now features 35 kiosks with everything from Portuguese cheeses (try the buttery Azeitão and Ilha) to cured presuntos (hams) and charcuterie, croquettes, Santini ice cream, chocolates, and classic dishes. Some top restaurateurs have stands selling affordable dishes, like Alexandre Silva and Vítor Claro. One stand even serves the famous francesinha/”frenchie”—which isn’t from Lisbon, it’s from Porto—but I was so happy to be able to try the insane hangover-curing sandwich stuffed with sliced and roasted meats covered in melted cheese and a tomato and beer sauce, what the hell!

You’ll find beers, wine, and be sure to swing by the Garrafeira Nacional wine shop if you want a bottle of Madeira from your birth year. A great souvenir are the tins of sardines, mackerel, and more in colorful packaging from Conserveira de Lisboa. The mercado has a modern look to it, with plenty of communal seating—but note that it gets really busy on the weekend. Come hungry and with friends so you can share and eat your faces off.

Sea Me
This casual place was recommended to me by a tablehopper reader, a modern-sushi/fusiony seafood spot, which came in handy while I was waiting for a table at Taberna da Rua das Flores around the corner (in Chiado). The menu has sushi and sashimi, which is not what I came to Lisbon to try, but I really enjoyed their smoked sardine nigiri while I was at the bar, and the cuttlefish tempura with squid ink.

Taberna da Rua das Flores
This cozy little tavern is full of vintage flair, with tiny tables and rickety stools and old tiled floors, with an eclectic menu that they will bring over to your table on a blackboard. The cooking from chef André Magalhães was soulful and playful (you’ll find some international ingredients and references), and even though I really wished I was on a date in that atmospheric and candlelit room, I kind of had the best date with myself possible. The rotating menu features dishes like a tiradito of corvina, veal ribs, and other flavor-packed small plates. No reservations, so expect a wait, but fortunately you can drink some wine on the street until your table is ready.

One funny thing about the restaurants here: some of them will put out a bunch of little plates, ranging from olives to cheese to bread and butter to ham, which you will pay for as part of a cover/couvert fee, ranging from a couple of euros to a cuttlefish salad that was placed before me for €6. You can politely decline the ones you don’t want and they’ll whisk the dishes away, no problem.

At some point you should pay a visit to the Jerónimos Monastery, an enormous structure in a Portuguese Late Gothic Manueline style in the parish of Belém, which has the tomb of Vasco da Gama. While you’re there, you can thank the monks for creating pastel de Belém (pastel de nata), that utterly exquisite egg custard tart that has made its way around the world (the wonders of colonialism). It ends up the monks and nuns were using a lot of egg whites to starch their clothes and needed to figure out a use for the leftover egg yolks. Presto: the pastel de nata.

Once you’re done checking out the monastery, like everyone and their mother, you have to walk over to the famous Fábrica de Pastéis de Belém, which has been making pastéis de nata since 1837. While I was in Lisbon, I was admittedly trying pastéis de nata every day (yes, the plural form), but not one came close to the construction and flavor of these flaky and custardy beauties from the mother ship. Don’t worry about the line (well, unless you want to get them boxed to go). Just go hover for a table, eat a couple of these still-warm beauties with your coffee (be sure to sprinkle them with cinnamon), and go to heaven. (Check out this fascinating article for more about this treasured item, which they reportedly sell 50,000 of on Sundays.)

It was a bummer it was just too cold and rainy for some of the city’s awesome rooftop bars I heard about, this is what happens when you travel in November, but I can imagine places like Park are so fab on a summer night.

On the last night of our wine trip, we literally stumbled into one of the most amazing bars of my life, Pavilhão Chinês (Rua Dom Pedro, V 89). I have never seen anything like it, and it will be the first place I return to so I can make sure it was real. What started as a grocery store at the turn of the century was transformed into an antique shop, and soon thereafter the owner turned it into a bar. You’ll encounter a warren of rooms, each one filled with treasures in floor-to-ceiling vintage shelves and cabinets. There are little tables where you can sit, served by waiters in brightly colored vests, and then there’s the pool room in the back. You won’t even believe the room overflowing with old soldier memorabilia and war toys. There are details in every corner and square inch—even the ceiling is something to behold. One of the most magical places ever, and I’m so glad it was the last place on my trip, what a send-off.

One of the best things I did on this trip was hire a guide, and fortunately I had a recommendation from a friend to hire Pedro Ferreira of We Are Lisbon Tours, who took me around for a couple of days. I was able to cover so much more ground, and with his background in art history, I learned a bunch about all the beautiful buildings and artwork and history of the city, and Pedro also took me to see some really amazing street art.

Bonus: he was as happy to go to the flea market as I was, and like a good Portuguese, was obsessed with good food, so he took me to some cool local spots for coffee, pregos, pastries, and more. He was also able to give me some real talk about the economy, the difficulties in the local job market (and why so many young people move away), and we had a blast talking about music and nightlife. My two days with him made my trip—it was like hanging out with a friend.

Even if you don’t hire Pedro to take you around Lisbon, you really should consider hiring him for a day trip to Sintra, a UNESCO World Heritage site that is about 20 miles outside Lisbon. You simply have to visit this dreamy and almost unbelievable place, full of palaces from the 20th century and earlier. My favorites were the Pena National Palace (a summer residence of the monarchs of Portugal during the 18th and 19th centuries) and the utterly mystical Palácio e Quinta da Regaleira, which the Freemasons used in the 20th century (this place is such a head trip, and do not miss the underground staircase!).

While you’re in Sintra, be sure to visit the Piriquita Café, famous for their travesseiro pastry (its name means “pillow,” which gives you a clue to its shape), with almond pastry cream inside. You can also try their queijadas, which are much less sweet (and easy to take to go).

Back in Lisbon, if you love tiles and find yourself getting more and more obsessed with the azulejos around town (it happened to me), pay a visit to the Museu Nacional do Azulejo (National Tile Museum).

Don’t miss the opportunity to be fitted for the most fantastic handmade leather gloves at Luvaria Ulisses, a total jewel box. The entire visit is such an experience. Since 1925.

It was pure luck that I was walking around the Praça do Comércio at dusk on a rare sunny moment when there was a break in the storm. The magic hour light was incredible, it actually brought tears to my eyes. It wasn’t until later on that I learned Lisbon is referred to as “the luminous city” and “the white city.” Indeed.

Be sure to check out my photo album on Flickr—the beauty of Lisbon will blow your mind.

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The entrance to the historic Colonial House. All photos: © tablehopper.com.

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The busy counter at Bestia.

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Veal tartare crostino at Bestia.

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Housemade ‘nduja pizza at Bestia.

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Rustic Canyon’s famed clam pozole verde.

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Sycamore Kitchen’s buttermilk-rye pancakes.

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The sunny patio at Sycamore Kitchen.

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Brunch mayhem at Sqirl.

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Sqirl’s malva pudding cake. You want this.

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THE SLAYER at Bäco Mercat.

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Lobster roll of your dreams at Connie and Ted’s.

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Pizza bianca at Pizzeria Mozza.

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The comfy rancho style at Harris Ranch.

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Vintage charm inside the ladies’ room at The Glendale Tap.

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Marty and Elayne at The Dresden.

I have a history of heading to Los Angeles for New Year’s Eve, and when the opportunity presented itself again this year, yay, I scooped up a fellow former Angeleno pal, and off in my little Fiat we went. I don’t think I could have asked for a better crash pad: my fab neighbor from my UCLA dorm days was out of town and let us stay in his (temporary) apartment that was, oh, in The Colonial House. You mean the historic place from the 1930s on Crescent Heights in West Hollywood where Cary Grant and Bette Davis and numerous other starlets lived? What a dream.

I was long overdue to check out some LA eats (and flea marketing and vintage shopping). Here are some highlights from our whirlwind visit:

Bestia
Wow, is this place fun. It was our top meal and experience of the trip, by far. You head down a random street downtown (not too far from the warehouses where I used to rave more than 25 years ago) to discover a busy parking lot, with valets directing well-heeled patrons inside (instead of promoters shepherding kids in oversize overalls). Times have changed.

The restaurant is impressively huge, with a bar and lounge, and every seat is coveted. Kudos to the staff for running such a busy room while keeping track of the details—the hospitality here was notable. Ditto the wine list, you’ll get happily distracted by it. Your servers will make some excellent pairing suggestions too.

Chef Ori Menashe’s menu is going to crush you with desire. The veal tartare crostino ($15)—a supped-up vitello tonnato on their housemade bread—was one of the best things I have eaten in awhile; wait until you sink your teeth into the creamy tonnato sauce generously slathered on top. The salad of smoked sea urchin bottarga ($16) grated over chicories, sieved egg, pomegranate, and the punch of pickled chile came together so well, what a brilliant salad. We spaced on ordering the famed gizzards, damn. I’ll be back! But then the housemade ‘nduja pizza ($19) more than made up for it, loaded with tomato, creamy mozzarella, black cabbage, and fennel pollen. Exceptional crust. Complimenti!

There were nine housemade pastas to choose from, we went for the cavatelli alla norcina ($29), plump-chewy ricotta dumplings decadently coated in a heady sauce of pork sausage, black truffle, and Grana Padano. We were stuffed but made a little room for a dessert by Genevieve Gergis, a simple but pretty crème fraîche panna cotta ($9) with winter citrus. Don’t miss this place, and even if you don’t get a reservation, it’s worth trying to walk in and waiting a bit like we did.

Rustic Canyon
While the Bay Area still bemoans the loss of chef Jeremy Fox’s singular cuisine, at least it gives us a reason to hunt him down in LA. The Westside location of this casual restaurant and wine bar reminded me how huge LA is to drive across, but Fox’s earthy and inspired menu made it worth the schlep.

The tables felt luxuriously big, and as soon as the Marcona almonds with lavender sugar and sea salt ($7) hit the table, you’ll be thankful for the extra space, because you’re about to take it all up with shareable dishes like tender Monterey squid ($16) spiked with Calabrian chile, with falafel quenelles and aioli nero—this one really hit the bass notes. The housemade ricotta ($16) with mushroom escabèche and cubes of crispy polenta went for a higher octave. The bright clam pozole verde ($16) is justifiably famed, featuring Rancho Gordo’s hominy with poblano, scallion, and thin slices of “honeydew” radish, with crisp pieces of tortilla in the electric green bowl. Your whole palate gets shaken awake.

A larger dish we tried was the roasted half chicken “mulligatawny” ($29), cue Seinfeld, a homey curry broth with coconut milk coating the pieces of succulent chicken, with slices of “tandoori” carrot and M’Hamsa couscous in the bowl. It was so comforting, the flavors familiar yet exotic at the same time. The menu is quite varied, and it would be a great place to take your vegetarian Westside-dwelling friend who likes big glasses of boutique wines.

The Sycamore Kitchen
Before hitting the Sunday Fairfax flea market, we swung by for brunch at this casual café on La Brea (you order at the counter and your food is brought out to you), but the place has chops: it’s run by Quinn and Karen Hatfield, beloved chefs formerly of SF. This spot would be so mobbed in San Francisco, I couldn’t believe that at 11am on a Sunday we just breezed in, ordered, and sauntered to an outdoor table on the patio without being told there would be an hour wait. Miracles!

I had a weird craving for pancakes for more than a week, so was happy to indulge with the buttermilk-rye pancakes ($11, with salted butter and maple syrup), while my wingman went for the egg tartine ($11.50) with arugula pesto, tomato, and avocado hummus on their housemade bread. Grab some baked goodies for later—our blueberry financier muffin was the business. We were out of there in 45 minutes, one of the tastiest brunches in the shortest period of time I have experienced in years, if ever.

Sqirl
Meanwhile, this Silver Lake joint had SF-style lines all over it. It’s the tiniest spot, quietly chic with a marble communal counter running down the middle, and people scootched up against narrow counters along the wall and windows, hovering over their brioche toast (anointed with owner Jessica Koslow’s notable jams) and cappuccinos. I know, toast. We had breakfast toast ($7.50), a thick slab of buttery and golden brioche, topped with a fried egg, kale (the jokes, they write themselves), tomatillo, and lacto-fermented hot sauce (I think it was the first time I saw a hot sauce listed as lacto-fermented on a menu). But they could easily be charging more than $10 for that action and people would pay for it.

I wasn’t quite sold on the whole mob scene until we got a couple of spoonfuls into their malva pudding cake, and then I was a devotee. It’s sticky and decadently textured, with the surprise of some apricot jam inside. A must. Ask them to warm it up. Okay, okay, you won me over, I’ll be back!

Bäco Mercat
For some reason I thought maybe, just maybe, we’d be able to score an eggslut sandwich for brunch without too much of a line since it was the holidays and all, but no. It was DMV in the eighth circle of hell long. So, Bäco Mercat to the rescue. This casual downtown joint made its name with chef Josef Centeno’s trademark bäco sandwiches, a flatbread of sorts, filled with all kinds of pleasure-focused fillings that pull from a variety of cuisines.

We had the toron ($15), a burger-like patty of oxtail hash with cheddar melted on top, plus a hash brown-like layer of crisp potatoes, the richness cut by fresh greens, pickles, and horseradish yogurt. Pretty hefty and fabulous. We also took our server’s advice and went for THE SLAYER ($19), because, when something is on the menu in all caps, you gotta do it. It was a baked bäco, all bready and golden, topped with a punchy tomato salmorejo, pork belly, and a fried egg. The contrasting temperatures took a bit to get used to, but ultimately it came together and was quite delicious. There are a bunch of small plates at lunch, many of them vegetarian and with interesting spices and flavors—would be fun to come with a four-top and crush the menu. Well-selected wine list and friendly folks, too.

Connie and Ted’s
We were peckish one afternoon (oh shopping, it’s so exhausting!) and needed a pit stop. Connie and Ted’s to the rescue. This California-ized seafood shack in WeHo from Michael Cimarusti is conveniently open all day Wed-Sat. We explored some unique oyster selections (they had Belons!) although sadly our shucker lost the liquor on a few, and then we moved to some fresh (as in cut open before your eyes) Santa Barbara urchin ($18).

The siren song of the lobster roll ($26) was hard to ignore, and I’m so glad we heeded it, because let me tell you, a glass of Champagne with their damn good fries and textbook-perfect lobster roll was in the pocket. This place is doing some good things with seafood, and the postmodern LA look adds a fun twist to an otherwise classic East Coast (with a whirl on the West Coast) seafood menu.

Pizzeria Mozza
I can’t go to LA without paying a visit to one of my favorite crackly pizzas. And this was shockingly kind: they were open on New Year’s Day. Grazie, Nancy Silverton and crew! The room was full of red balloons from the night before, and now was packed with our fellow bleary-eyed and hungry diners. We perched at the spacious wood bar, shared the insalata rossa ($14, bitter and tender chicories with bacon, egg, and a fluffy mountain of Parm), and then it was pizza time: nettles and finocchiona with cacio di Roma ($18), and a bianca ($18), a perfectly sized sea of Fontina, mozzarella, sottocenere, and crisp sage leaves, so deliciously paired with their trademark golden and blistered crust. No one does pizzas like Pizzeria Mozza does.

We didn’t save room for the trademark butterscotch budino, and the menu even admonishes us to do so, but it’s good to know it’s always there.

Harris Ranch One more item to note: of all the years I have driven up and down the I-5 (I went to UCLA, so it was a frequent haul back and forth to San Mateo for the holidays and summer), I have never stopped at Harris Ranch. Big, big mistake! That place is classic! Was so charmed with the old-school rancho-meets-jockey club vibe, and the service could not be nicer—we melted for our server Lynn, who took such sweet care of us.

I ordered the classic ranch burger ($15.95), the well-seasoned patty cooked to a perfect medium rare and served on a house-baked bun. They were quick to whisk away my cold fries for fresh and hot ones, with a pile of apologies. (Note for the future: tablehopper readers reportedly love the tri-tip Caesar, steak and eggs, and desserts.) I found my new I-5 oasis, complete with the cleanest bathrooms too.

A few quick takes
We had a blast catching up with friends over quality beers at the The Glendale Tap (which lives up to its name, with 52 taps—I enjoyed exploring the beers from Eagle Rock), decked out with vintage bar signs and other eclectic finds.

I will never, ever go to LA again without booking a massage at Sunset Foot Spa. This place worked us OUT for so cheap. Full body (including feet) in a cushy chair for $50 for an hour, whut?

And it’s not a visit to LA without a night at The Dresden for a show with Marty and Elayne. They perform every Tuesday through Saturday, I don’t know how. Everything about that place, from the roller chairs to the vintage pendant lights, it could only exist in LA. La la love you!

You can view my entire photo album of our long LA weekend getaway here.

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Our home in Mariposa. All photos: © tablehopper.com.

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Our former deli and pizzeria (now a Mexican restaurant).

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The exterior of the Château du Sureau.

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The sitting room/library in the Château du Sureau.

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The stairs down to the pool at Château du Sureau.

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The Elderberry Room.

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An afternoon snack, brought to our room on arrival.

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One of the chambermaids.

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One of the dining rooms (at the end of the evening) at Erna’s Elderberry House Restaurant.

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Amuse of arctic char, pickled mustard seed, cucumber gelée, and trout roe.

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The creative and delicious beet salad.

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A look into grand Yosemite Valley.

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When was the last time you were in a meadow?

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The incomparable dining room at The Ahwahnee.

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A prime rib feast at The Ahwahnee.

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The library at the Villa Sureau.

I may have been living in San Francisco for the past 20 years, but there is a country mouse side to this city mouse. Back when I was in the middle of third grade, my family packed up our life in San Mateo to move to Gold Country. We landed in Mariposa, not far from Yosemite National Park, where my parents bought 69 acres; they planned to build our dream home on the land, with our family friend as the architect. My father manifested his dream of getting out of the burbs and opening a pizzeria and delicatessen. My mother worked as an R.N. at a nearby hospital, and still managed to cook all our meals, make our clothes (it was that or order clothes from the Sears catalog for delivery into the depot in town—they wouldn’t even deliver to your house), and she also learned how to kill rattlesnakes (thanks Mom, good save that one afternoon).

We were there for three years, and while it didn’t pan out—it ends up Mariposa wasn’t quite ready for spicy coppa and imported Italian wine—and we had to move back to the Peninsula, our time there made for a really sweet period in our lives, especially for me and my sis. We had dirt bikes, a huge yard, dogs and cats and a horse, and we got to run around and unleash our inner tomboys. I’m ever grateful for those years living in Gold Country, they were such a vivid part of my childhood.

Some years later, I remember my parents going back up to Yosemite for a big wedding anniversary dinner, and they dined at a very special place, ~ERNA’S ELDERBERRY HOUSE RESTAURANT~. (It’s the kind of name that stays with you.) Flash forward to one evening at Gary Danko a few years ago, when a charming young lady from the staff and I put together that we both had connections to Gold Country—and look at that, her mother was the Erna of Erna’s Elderberry House Restaurant in Oakhurst.

And then let’s flash back to not too long ago, when I received a very kind invitation from the lovely Erna Kubin-Clanin to come experience a meal at Erna’s Elderberry House, and to stay at the ~CHÂTEAU DU SUREAU~. I couldn’t believe it—of course I called my parents immediately since they have such a treasured memory of the restaurant (the château was not built yet when they dined there).

Now, for anyone who has ever been to Yosemite, you may remember passing through Oakhurst, which is full of antique stores, big chain drugstores, and plenty of fast food. So to say that there is one of the most exquisite properties I have ever visited in the United States, a château that felt like it was transported from Europe lock, stock, and barrel (including the staff) and dropped off in Oakhurst of all places, well, that’s kind of what happened.

Ms. Erna is the most divine hostess, born in Vienna, and as soon as you get a look at her, you’ll be enchanted. She is so stylish and chic, with her fabulous French glasses, svelte figure, and tasteful high heels. She has a soothing and charming voice, full of kind words and comments. Ms. Erna is the kind of host who can handle diplomats and country folk with equal ease.

As soon as you pass through the gates to the château, it seems incredible that you are actually in dusty Gold Country. The place is an oasis of beauty, full of flowers and gorgeous landscaping. While many guests travel from far and wide to dine at Erna’s Elderberry House, the 10-room Château du Sureau (opened in 1991) also has an impeccable reputation. Not only is it a Relais & Châteaux property (since 1993), but it has won many other awards as well, from being a five-star Forbes Travel Guide property for more than 18 years to its five diamonds from AAA since 1992. And here’s why: Erna has a deep love for beauty, hospitality, and the finer things in life, and it shows in every corner and square inch of the property.

The two nights my friend and I spent there were like a shot in the arm of European class and elegance. The château is filled with antiques Erna found abroad, with tapestries, artwork, and unique pieces everywhere, along with fresh flowers and orchids too. Fresh lemonade sits out for guests. Oh, and how can you not love the chambermaids flitting about the property with their white aprons? I felt like I was going back in time. The staff is incredibly gracious.

All the 10 rooms are different; our room (The Elderberry Room) had exposed beams and a canopy bed (complete with a feather duvet and silky ironed linens, oh you know it). The room was mercifully devoid of a TV, a fireplace taking its place. It was actually pretty challenging (in a charming way) to find a place to plug in my iPhone and iPad by the bed (it would be better to write a letter to a friend on the château’s stationery). The spacious bathroom came with French tiles, and a soaking tub that I wish I had made time to enjoy.

On arrival, we were greeted with an afternoon snack in our room (tea sandwiches of housemade ricotta, cucumber, and beet on housemade bread, plus a tasty little almond cake) and two glasses of sparkling wine. (That’ll do fine, why thank you.) When we made our way down to the pool for an afternoon dip, we were offered more pink bubbles to enjoy poolside. (Careful, Marcia, don’t get to used to this…)

When it was time for dinner, it was an easy stroll through the gardens to Erna’s Elderberry House Restaurant, which opened in 1984. It has a French country look, with a trio of rooms (the Escoffier, Point, and Paul Bocuse rooms) full of fabric and old-world charm, plus a garden terrace (if you sit near the windows, your view is framed with flowers).

Before Erna was overseeing all aspects of the property, she was the chef and managing owner (her husband René owns it with her)—she now has chef de cuisine Jonathon Perkins overseeing the kitchen. Her first restaurant was Scorpio’s in Westwood (Los Angeles), and she then became known in the Sierras in 1977, when she cooked at The Redwood Inn next to the Wawona Hotel for six years, offering a five-course meal of nouvelle and European cuisine. She was a trailblazer in the area for sure.

My guest and I enjoyed an elegant five-course meal ($108, $78 wine pairings), full of seasonal and well-prepared ingredients, along with a few modern techniques too (dessert featured some coconut “snow”). Our amuse was stunning: arctic char, pickled mustard seed, cucumber gelée, and trout roe, and a fragrant cauliflower soup had fascinating ribbons of flavor, with apricot chutney, curry oil, cilantro, and toasted almonds.

I also loved the old-world touch of serving the salad after the meat course, and the presentation was so inventive: the heirloom beet salad came with field greens with a thyme and lavender vinaigrette, and there was a scoop of a chèvre mousse with beet whipped in (it was the most gorgeous color), as well as Bull’s Blood beet purée and mulberries on the plate.

A few dishes had components that were a bit strong, like the Tahitian vanilla jus that dominated the milk-poached veal loin, but otherwise I could not believe I was having this elevated dining experience in Oakhurst of all places, and not some beautiful château in France. Pastry chef Kyle Waller’s dessert of milk chocolate panna cotta would fit right into most of San Francisco’s fine dining rooms. (They are many more photos here.)

You can see how much training the staff has had (it’s not like there’s a big pool of employees trained in fine dining service in the area), and we also had some excellent wine service and pairings (from Sinskey’s Abraxas to the Azelia “Bricco Fiasco” Barolo). It was one of those “somebody please pinch me” moments when we were able to walk back down the garden path after dinner and fall into our feather bed for a night of deep sleep. While the “full board” experience is part of the charm of staying in this fairy-tale place, you can also just come to Erna’s Elderberry House Restaurant for dinner—you don’t need to be a guest of the château.

They also host a three-day cooking school twice a year, and many themed meals, including the annual Evening in Vienna dinner, with music. I’d subscribe to the newsletter to keep up on the happenings (and special offers) in case you are mulling over taking a trip to Yosemite. (How long has it been? When was the last time you walked through a meadow? It was far too long for me.)

While it’s very hard to leave the kingdom for the day (trust), we got up early to make our way to the other kingdom: Yosemite. It’s a short drive to the South Gate from the château, and the staff kindly packed us a picnic lunch to enjoy in the park. We also had a fabulous breakfast on the terrace before we headed out for the day that we were going to need to hike off: freshly made croissants and brioche with housemade jam, marmalade, and thick pats of butter, plus a European-style platter of meats and cheeses, a ramekin of egg frittata topped with ratatouille, and excellent coffee.

Our day in Yosemite was pure magic—we were there in mid-May, so we had beautiful springlike weather and the falls were running. We spent the day walking the trails around the majestic valley floor, and since it was a Friday, we didn’t have to deal with a crush of humanity. We had our picnic lunch next to the Merced River, such a dreamy spot.

We ended our epic day with bubbles on the back terrace at the Ahwahnee Hotel and were invited to stay for dinner. Is there a more jaw-dropping dining room, with its 34-foot-high beamed ceiling and hulking granite pillars? Of course you end up thinking about The Shining half the time (Kubrick’s set designer mimicked many elements of the Ahwahnee for the Overlook Hotel).

We got a kick out of our jacketed server, who handled the huge pepper grinder with aplomb, and I’d say sticking with simpler classics is the move here, like roasted Brussels sprouts ($15). It’s all about the prime rib ($42-$48) with Yorkshire pudding; some of the other dishes were too much of a reach, like my friend’s lobster and coconut bisque. I can imagine the setting for Sunday brunch is fabulous.

I wouldn’t recommend the long drive back to the Château du Sureau after a late dinner like ours to many people—fortunately I love driving mountain roads and so does my Fiat. But it was definitely a haul in the darkness after such a big day. Again, that feather duvet was waiting for me at the end, a strong motivator to get back safely.

The next morning we enjoyed a more leisurely start, with breakfast on the terrace once again (hello, croissant, I was missing you), a last dip in the pool, and a walk around the grounds. A newer addition to the property is the Spa Sureau and the Villa Sureau, which we were lucky to get a peek at since they were in between guests.

Because Ms. Erna just doesn’t stop, she created this secluded and private manor house in 1999, full of turn-of-the-century antiques (her husband René helped restore many of the treasures), a marble tub, a baby grand piano, and two bedrooms in its spacious 2,000-square-foot footprint. It’s grand, daaahling, and for those who can afford a stay there (it’s $2,950 a night), it’s a very singular spot where you can effectively play out a manor-born fantasy. Just gorgeous.

A visit to the Château du Sureau and Erna’s Elderberry House Restaurant is a unique one, because its particular kind of luxury is so personal. Fortunately the elegant and visionary Ms. Erna wanted to create and share her world of cosmopolitan flair and grace—it so obviously (and thankfully) couldn’t be contained.

You can view my entire photo album of our weekend getaway here. Trust me, you want to look!

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The one and only Café du Monde. All photos: © tablehopper.com.

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Fried bread with sea salt at Pêche.

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What a dish: beef tartare and fried oysters at Coquette.

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Shrimp and grits at La Petite Grocery.

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The muffuletta of my dreams at Cochon Butcher.

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The jaunty exterior of Commander’s Palace.

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Grasshoppers at Tujague’s.

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Our daily breakfast: crawfish bread!

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Too cute: red beans and rice (partying together, of course).

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Galactic at the storied Tipitina’s.

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Liuzza’s by the Track (otherwise known as Bloody Mary HQ).

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Just after the rain.

Ahhh, Jazz Fest. It was something that was on my sister’s bucket list for a while, and since my sister and I are cut from the same cloth, it was on my list for too long as well. She has a posse of friends who like to go to the fest, so it was a blast to have quality peeps to do it up with. Fortunately they were all experienced Burners as well, because Jazz Fest is not for the faint of heart. Well, at least how we did it. Only the strong survive.

I’ll share some Jazz Fest newbie tips we learned (some the hard way), but first, here are a few places where we had some memorable meals in between all the shows (I really needed to update my last New Orleans jetsetter, which dates back to 2008).

Pêche: before my sister’s late-night flight came in, I enjoyed a solo meal at the counter of Donald Link’s latest place in the Warehouse District—it was just 10 days old when I ate there. It’s dedicated to seafood, and if you speak French, you’ll already know this from the name (no, it’s not peche, like a peach). Sitting at a bar in New Orleans, well, you are never lonely. I had some excellent dining and drinking companions, including an inspiring older gentleman, Charlie from New York, who has been coming to Jazz Fest for 40 years, much respect.

Loved the long list of appetizers and bar snacks: I had some oysters, and the fried bread with sea salt. Oh, and the shrimp toast! It was so good that Charlie next to me ordered a second round, smart man. Some unique dishes were the canapé-like disks of golden beets topped with a tartare of gray tilefish with curry vinaigrette and Vietnamese shiso, and catfish with pickled greens and chile broth (so good). Next time I’ll go back with friends so we could order the whole fish coming out of the custom grill. Really appealing menu here.

Coquette: what a charmer in the Garden District, such a beautiful freestanding building, full of rich New Orleans atmosphere, with brick walls, old wood plank floors, and chandeliers. We sat upstairs at a round table, enjoying a shared feast of shaved foie gras and root vegetables, beef tartare and fried gulf oysters, chicken-fried sweetbreads, and soft-shell crab (a main dish, $28). Loved all the seasonal and local vegetables in the innovative dishes, and I’d love to come back to try chef Michael Stoltzfus’s tasting menu.

A highlight was their menu of after-dinner drinks, four in all, which were built for a night of after-partying, like The Best Part of Waking Up, made with cold-brew coffee, reposado tequila, walnut liqueur, and vanilla syrup. Wish more places made after-dinner drinks like this. Desserts also rocked—their version of milk chocolate mousse with peanut butter sorbet and salted caramel, oh yeah. Some quality cocktails and wines too.

La Pétite Grocery: we got rained out of the festival one day (it was pouring, just buckets) and opted to have lunch at this historic space, which dates back to the 1800s (it was converted into a restaurant in 2004). Chef Justin Devillier is known for his Gulf shrimp and grits with smoked bacon, and there’s no way you can pass up the blue crab beignets. Sis loved their Reuben special that day, with Two Run Farm pastrami, quality. Classic bistro atmosphere, with bent cane chairs, white tablecloths, and banquettes the color of deep cherry.

Cochon Butcher: this was the move for this muffuletta-loving girl. About 45 minutes before I needed to grab a cab to the airport, I called ahead and order a muffuletta to go—had my cab wait outside while I ran in to pick it up and pay for it, and then enjoyed one of the best muffulettas of my life on the plane at some point close to Texas. House-cured meats, killer olive salad, this sandwich is such a star (although I did have a local muffuletta connoisseur tell me their favorite is from FredRick’s in the CBD, noted!).

Commander’s Palace: so, we finally did the weekend jazz brunch here. And while the entire experience is pretty marvelous from an atmospheric standpoint, with the dining rooms full of happy guests enjoying their turtle soup and a jazz trio moving table to table, the meal itself knocked us out for the rest of the day. (My friend also knew someone in the kitchen, so they lovingly killed us with dessert.) You get three hefty courses for about $40 that mean buttery business, so don’t plan to move a lot afterward. But a grateful shout-out to the bourbon milk punch for getting me back into the game that morning.

When it’s late, and you need some quality tequila and a burger (isn’t that all the time?), Yo Mama’s in the Quarter will take care of you. They’re known for their peanut butter burger (weird, but it works, especially with bacon), late kitchen hours, and bonus points for the extremely saucy bathroom art, and yo mama jokes on your receipt.

If you want to do a fun little tablehop in the afternoon (what else where we gonna do on a rainy day), we started with Pimm’s Cups at Napoleon House (of course), walked over to Tujague’s (say “Two Jacks”) for grasshoppers (yes, where they were reportedly invented), and then we had to tuck into some beignets and chicory coffee at Café du Monde (note: the original French Market location is open 24 hours a day, mmmhmmm).

Bellocq: I ended up meandering over here for a drink (cobblers galore) after dinner at Pêche (it’s in the Hotel Modern). Damn nice bar staff; from the folks behind The Cure (the bar, not the band). Over-the-top swank décor, dense wall o’ quality spirits, and you gotta love that off-sale action (was able to bring home a bottle of bubbles for our hotel room).

Arnaud’s French 75 Bar: when it’s time for a civilized cocktail and not a lot of French Quarter ruckus, this is where you can sit back, enjoy a quality cocktail, admire the old-world atmosphere and antiques, and catch your breath. Ahhhh.

Bar Tonique: we had a good nightcap here—they serve straightforward craft cocktails minus a big show and mustaches. The scene was a bit rowdy and mixed and fun, although truth be told, I also felt a wee bit too old for the crowd.

Molly’s: frozen Irish coffees, what? This will sound good to you at some point, trust.

For the extra late-night (or wait, is that early morning?) dranks, we hit Chuck’s and Igor’s (which came with their own sideshow).

I always leave New Orleans with a list of places I failed to make it to, I guess it’s one of its many charms. Here are five spots that are (still) at the top of my current to-do list:

Char-grilled oysters at Drago’s.
The legendary fried chicken at Willie Mae’s Scotch House.
Étouffée at Annunciation.
Lunch at the Bon Ton Café.
Cocktails by the fabulous Abigail Gullo at SoBou.

Notes on Jazz Fest:
We managed to have some rainy weather the year we went, and let me tell you, you can’t go out to the Fairgrounds without some mud boots. We got lucky and found a shop that was selling boots (we literally got the last two pairs in our size), but now we know: don’t fly to Jazz Fest without mud boots. It was like Glastonbury, with mud almost to our knees in some spots. Actually the entire week we were there got kind of chilly. So much for sultry NOLA nights!

Crawfish bread is the best breakfast in the world. Well, it was more like brunch since it was what we’d eat immediately upon arrival at the Fairgrounds, which was usually around 11:30pm or noon. Quickly followed by Crawfish Monica, boudin balls in rémoulade, jambalaya, cochon de lait po’boys, and about 100 other things to make you love New Orleans, hard.

After a day of shows, before you head back to your hotel you have to saunter over to Liuzza’s by the Track for their Bloody Marys and a fun crowd hanging out in the streets, with impromptu music performances everywhere, yay. You could also start your day here too, because as we discovered this trip, more is more.

We took cabs to the Fairgrounds (they operate at a super-cheap flat rate) and took a public bus back to the Quarter and just walked to our hotel in the Warehouse District (buses are definitely the fastest way back—cabs were in short supply).

A lot of restaurants close earlier than you’d expect. We learned the pro move was to grab a bite at the end of the day after the Fairgrounds, and then plunk down for a disco nap before heading back out to midnight shows at Tipitina’s, The Blue Nile, Republic, and every other joint we hit up.

Thanks for the epic long week, New Orleans—you always send me home tired, hungover, and with a head (and heart) full of indelible impressions. No one has a community like yours—the city overflows with characters and hospitality and style. I sometimes can’t believe you’re part of America, with your refreshingly lawless ways and deeply soulful resonance. Keep up the good work. See you soon.

For more pictures, be sure to click here for my Flickr album.

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One advantage to dining solo: all the pão de queijo is all yours. All photos: © tablehopper.com.

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Saturday night feijoada at Garden.

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Picanha and grilled heart of palm at Via Sete.

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The colorful exterior of Via Sete.

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Grilled hearts of palm with pesto at Aprazível.

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The tropical treehouse vibe at Aprazível.

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The beautiful pool deck at Hotel Santa Teresa.

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My calming, beautiful room at Hotel Santa Teresa.

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Fruit extravaganza at the breakfast spread at Hotel Santa Teresa.

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One of the Bahian barracas at the Hippie Fair.

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My favorite dish of the trip: acarajé.

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The gorgeous grounds at Instituto Moreira Salles.

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The modern Museu de Arte Moderna.

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The Museu do Arte Contemporânea in Niterói.

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Parque Lage (and that’s Cristo Redentor perched on top of Corcovado in the back).

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The old world atmosphere at Confeitaria Colombo.

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One of the many interesting buildings in the historic Centro.

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Ascending Pão de Açúcar.

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You’ll see some of the best graffiti and street art all over Rio.

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Boa noite from the Hotel Santa Teresa.

Okay, so we covered the churrasco experience in my last Rio installment, but we still have quite a bit more Rio dining to cover. To be honest, Rio made me really lonely when it was time for dinner; in all my years of traveling solo, I have never felt so solitary at night. The city’s restaurants are not set up for solo diners—good luck finding anything resembling our city’s many counters, bars, and communal tables. One restaurant I went to had a bar, and no one was sitting at it—well, except me. Walking into a restaurant, every time, I’d have to explain “just one”—which at many places would elicit a raised eyebrow for a split second. Cariocas tend to dine out in big groups, or you’ll see lots of couples. Party of one, not so much.

Portions were another frustrating thing: so much of the food is portioned for people to share. I had to walk out of three restaurants (ugh!) when they wouldn’t be able to serve me less than a whole chicken, or an entire pot of moqueca. It would be too wasteful for me to order a huge feast just for myself. And not much fun.

But I was not going to miss indulging in the famed feijoada, which is traditionally served on Saturday afternoon (well, it depends on where you are—I heard other Brazilian cities have different nights). I found a classic place (58 years old and counting) called Garden in between Ipanema and Leblon, with an older and classier crowd. I love how late people eat in Rio. A table of eight, with a median age of 74, were just sitting down to eat at 10pm. I made a little promise to myself that I’m going to return to Rio to live when I’m older—I can start getting tan again and go to the beach every day, wear bright lipstick, and hang out with my friends and eat late. Sign me up.

My solicitous server poured me a huge glass of wine, so big I chuckled to myself (“Mama’s gettin’ heated tonight!”), although I can’t believe how many Cariocas drink Coke Zero with everything, no exaggeration. I was served slowly cooked and garlicky black beans, beef tongue, pig’s ear and tail (my server was very happy to see me eat this), thin slices and little chubs of linguiça, and thin air-dried meat, plus the classic accompaniments of shredded kale, aipim frito (fried yuca), farofa (toasted manioc flour, made from yuca), white rice, and orange supremes. My table was completely covered in bowls and plates. I was an army of one with that dinner. I gave it my best shot, but I needed at least two other people dining with me to make a proper dent.

So yeah, dinner in Rio was not very fun after the fourth night of going out. Although I will admit posting images to Instagram at least made me feel like I was dining with friends in a strange, techy, modern way. Twenty-nine likes for my feijoada pic. Yeah, was it good for you too?

One afternoon while I was doing a little shopping after my beach time, I checked out the cute Gilson Martins shop, where I found some of my favorite souvenirs to bring home (little coin purses with the wave pattern of the pavers of Ipanema, um, yes, I’ll take five). I befriended the way-too-adorable manager of the shop, who used to bartend in Miami, and after a little sassy banter we were fast friends.

Marcelo was a sweetheart and met me a couple of days later to take me to lunch to one of his favorite places in Ipanema, Via Sete. I was so excited to finally have someone to dine with, I know I was beaming. I can see why he’s a regular there: there’s a lovely outdoor terrace, a cute stylish crowd, and probably the best steak I had on the trip, their grilled picanha, Marcelo’s top dish. It was bonkers good. And guess who was thrilled to have grilled hearts of palm again on her last meal in Rio? This girl. Pro tip: go for their combination meal, it’s a good deal (you get two sides—they had really fresh salads). After your lunch, be sure to walk a few blocks over to Gilson Martins and say “Bom dia!” to Marcelo.

I’m also here to report that my party of one status didn’t stop me from having quite a romantic dinner by myself at one of the restaurants most renowned for its beautiful atmosphere in Rio: Aprazível. It’s like a tree house in the open air, perched up in the historic neighborhood in the hills of Santa Teresa; you’ll hear birds chirping over the soft backing track of bossa nova, adding to the sultry tropical vibe. The really, truly breathtaking view of the twinkling city made for some excellent company while I was surrounded by canoodling couples. Truth be told, I also had one of the nicest servers of the entire trip, Marcos, who got a big kick out of my curiosity about each dish, and provided plenty of friendly company.

You’ll notice the dishes are much more northeastern in style, hailing from Minas Gerais and Bahia. I loved their little half-moon pasteles of acarajé (filled with beef), the cheesy gratin of sweet potato puree with air-dried beef, and I was so thrilled to try the freshly grilled hearts of palm, still in the stalk! It was a first for me. It was simply drizzled with some pesto, which I actually scraped off—the taste of the fresh palmito was plenty to savor. The thick and bubbling pot of moquequinha made with dogfish was homey and rustic, and the cheese plate with cheeses from Minas Gerais—with preserved orange rind and fig and dulce de leche—was over the top, and made for quite a finale.

One of my favorite things about Aprazível is their love and dedication to Brazilian wine! Sommelier Paul Medder, a Kiwi, shared some insider stories of the small-production wines he poured, like Vilmar Bettú, a garagiste who is making wine from the peverella grape that was brought over by the Italians when they came to Brazil in 1875 and later, one of the few wineries to still grow it. I tried the 2011 malvasia, which had a bit of wildness to it, but balanced acidity, and became even more fragrant as it opened up. If you want to learn about Brazilian wine, Medder is a great champion. The restaurant even has their own wine (Era dos Ventos), cachaças (aged on premise), and pale ale they make in Niterói; they also have their own CDs—I totally had to buy one so I could re-create the bossa vibe back home. Although where is Marcos with my passion fruit caipirinha?

If you have a chance to spend a day wandering around Santa Teresa, do it. It has a bohemian and less-touristed vibe, with a bunch of cool galleries and cafés, although I was not going to walk around at night by myself (see, Mom, I told you I was careful!). You can easily take a cab to the neighborhood (it’s about a 15-minute drive from Ipanema) or a bus, and you’ll drive past some favelas along the way (you can tour some of Rio’s favelas—it’s a sensitive issue, but ultimately I think it’s important for people to see and understand, just make sure you choose a good tour operator).

You better be wearing some sturdy shoes in Santa Teresa; the cobblestones are tough to walk on. I was there a couple of weeks too early for the annual festival called Arte de Portas Abertas, when artists let people into their studios, and there are a bunch of parties (be sure to check Time Out Rio; it can happen from June-August). There are many unique places to eat and hang out, like Bar do Mineiro, Jasmim Manga Café, “Bar do Gomez”/Armazém São Thiago, Rústico, and Espírito Santa.

Who has two thumbs and is one lucky lady? This girl. I was so damn fortunate to get to stay a night in Santa Teresa at the stunning boutique hotel, the Hotel Santa Teresa, which was originally a coffee plantation that was converted into the oasis of your dreams. You won’t want to leave, which is kind of dangerous because you really should explore the neighborhood. The hotel has beautiful views everywhere: from its rooms, its restaurant, even at the sexy pool (pay a visit to the hotel Bar Dos Descasados, complete with lounging beds where you enjoy your view with your bubbly).

My luxe-rustic room was so peaceful, with a natural-modern look, and a peek out the windows was full of green tree leaves and fronds. It really feels more like you’re hanging out at your fabulously rich Carioca friend’s place in the hills. As if! A girl can dream. The abundant breakfast spread reminded me of some of the more special Turkish breakfasts I experienced, although this one was laden with a Rio rainbow of tropical fruits. Carmen Miranda would have approved. Wonderful hospitality, what a special place. I was sorry to leave the peaceful kingdom when it was time to check out, but my 24 hours there left me feeling so calm and happy.

So, I just realized I am saving the best for last here, the one dish that stood out over everything I ate in Brazil: acarajé! My sister thankfully told me to hunt this street food bite down—it’s actually an Afro-Brazilian dish from Bahia (by way of Nigeria), so you have to search for it a bit in Rio. But every Sunday in Ipanema is the Hippie Fair at the Praça General Osório, which is a street fair selling crafts and tchotchkes (where I did manage to find a beautiful leather bag tucked away in one of the stands). And that’s where you’ll find the Bahian barracas! You can’t miss them—the ladies running these pop-up stands have colorful skirts and their hair up in white scarves and eyelet turbans to match their tops. (I realized I saw another Bahian barraca in town later on—look for the ladies in traditional head scarves.)

Get in line, and order the acarajé, which is a black-eyed pea fritter fried in dendê (palm oil)—it gets slathered with vatapá, a thick, rich, and spicy sauce made from shrimp, coconut milk, bread, cashews (or peanuts), garlic, onion, and more dendê, and then it gets topped with baby fried shrimp. Be sure to request a few shakes of the hot sauce. No, it’s not light, but the deep, layered flavor and textures of this dish will haunt me until I return to Brazil again. It made me want to go to Bahia, stat. Do not miss this experience. You can huddle at the counter or share a rickety table with your fellow diners, it’s a fun scene. Other folks are there for the sweets and the tapioca crêpes made with coconut and condensed milk.

Here are a few sights to see as well. I was there during the winter so I had some rainy days inside, which means yay, museum days!

One of the coolest museums is the Instituto Moreira Salles in Gávea, with an awesome photography collection—I got to see three fantastically curated shows. It was a private residence, and is such a cool tropical-modern building, with gardens designed by Burle Marx. I was ready to move in.

On the day I walked around the Centro area, I spent a rainy afternoon in the Museu de Arte Moderna, which not only was showing some provocative art by Brazilian artists, but it also has beautiful landscaping by Burle Marx in the back.

There was no way I was going to miss seeing the Museu do Arte Contemporânea in Niterói, which looks like a UFO (it was designed by by Oscar Niemeyer). There were a few cool pieces inside, but it’s really the building that steals the show. You take a ferry over, it’s a fun daytime adventure.

The Jardim Botânico is lovely to visit during the week, talk about a lush and serene place (it’s also orchid central). And you have to visit the Parque Lage, with a former mansion (now a visual arts school) that has a dramatic view of Corcovado looming overhead (there’s a café where you can grab a coffee or brunch). There’s also the nearby La Bicyclette (a local fave) or Jojo if you want more to eat, and there’s Yumê for Japanese.

You really should take a stroll through the colonial Centro area, with plazas dating back to the early 1800s (they fill up with people at lunch and after work, like the bright yellow Amarelinho on the Praça Floriano), and you absolutely have to visit the breathtaking Confeitaria Colombo which dates back to 1894. This coffeehouse is the picture of grand, full of rosy marble, stained glass, ornate hand-carved wood, beautiful tiles, and a rather tasty pastel de nata. Just come here, relax, order a coffee or a cocktail (and candies to bring home), and soak the old world ambiance in—I have never seen anything like it. On a much smaller scale is the Casa Cavé, which I took shelter in during a rainstorm (it’s also historically charming, with tile floors). And if you want a bite, head to Casa Paladino (open since 1906!) for a classic, old-school lunch or snack.

Sights on my list for next time:

The Sítio Roberto Burle Marx, a huge estate of the amazing landscape architect.

Cristo Redentor: On a rare cloudless day, I opted to visit the stunning Pão de Açúcar instead of making the trek to Cristo, but I will definitely make my way to the top of Corcovado next time!

A few observations and tips:

Cariocas are some of the most friendly and warm people, and chivalry is alive and well. As a solo female traveler, I always felt so well taken care of.

Riding the buses is quite the adventure. I used Google maps for up-to-the-minute bus timetables on how to get somewhere, because there are so many buses you’ll never figure it out. If you want a bus to stop for you, you have to stick your arm out and wave like a crazy person to hail it, or it’ll never stop, even if you’re at a bus stop. It’s like the buses are in a mad race to somewhere, I don’t know. As soon as you get on, grab hold of something, because you’re about to experience torque like you have never felt it. The drivers will totally floor it, even if you’re an old lady with your groceries and you haven’t sat down yet, and totally lurch you around as they take a corner, and then slam on the brakes. It’s, uh, an adventure! There’s a cashier on board, so don’t worry about having exact fare.

ATMs can be a nightmare. You’ll see a lot of bank lobbies with ATMs, but sometimes they’ll be out of money, and most wouldn’t work with international banks. I learned the hard way that most of them don’t work after 10pm and on Sundays. (Gimme my money!) I had some success with Banco do Brasil, but plan on being frustrated most of the time—you start looking everywhere for those little Cirrus symbols.

Other frustrating things (i.e., you aren’t in California anymore): the amount of plastic used everywhere (like regular silverware wrapped in plastic and your napkin wrapped in plastic too), no comment on the flimsy napkins and toilet paper, and finding 3G on your phone is the picture of sporadic. Fortunately almost every business has Wi-Fi, and they’re usually generous with handing out the password.

Coffee was mostly depressing. They’ll dump chocolate syrup in your cappuccino if you don’t keep an eye out. There are some beautiful espresso machines run by people who don’t know what they’re doing, and the coffee itself was pretty grim. I found one cafe where the “barista” would let me gesture to her how I wanted her to make my espresso (my pantomime of a hard tamp was pretty hilarious—we both shared a good laugh). At least all the coffees come with a little treat on the side, which is a cute tradition. At the end of the trip, a Carioca told me Grão Espresso is pretty decent, and here’s a piece on cafés to try. Oh, and Guerin, a French boulangerie, is supposedly good for coffee.

Other restaurants that were recommended to me or on my list:

Chico & Alaide: an awesome boteco known for their bolinho de bacalhau (salted cod croquette).

Talho Capixaba: a bakery in Leblon that has good empadinhas, sandwiches, and more (supposedly a good spot for breakfast or before the beach).

Amir for Lebanese food.

Cocktails and seafood at the fancy Fasano.

Catch the sunset and have drinks with everyone on the little wall at Bar Urca.

A fantastic resource for places to eat is Culinary Backstreets (they also offer tours!).

To find out weekly clubs and DJ nights, and arty stuff, check out The Rio Times and Time Out Rio.

For pictures from the entire trip, you can check out my images of Rio here.

Boa viagem!

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A view of Ipanema (in the distance) from Pão de Açúcar. All photos: © tablehopper.com.

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Brazilian pizza at Alessandro E Federico.

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The glorious beach at Ipanema.

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Açaí and acerola at Polis Sucos.

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My fabulous caipirinha at Barraca do Joel.

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Ipanema sunset.

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The Copacabana promenade.

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Awesome Rio street art.

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Street tiles.

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The late-night crowd celebrating at Jobi.

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Coxinha de frango at Bar Bracarense.

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The counter at Restaurante O Caranguejo.

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The scene at Bip Bip (with the crotchety owner, Alfredo, to the right).

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The Copacabana Palace.

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The Sunday buffet at the Copacabana Palace.

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The over-the-top buffet at Porcão Rio.

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The view of Pão de Açúcar at Porcão Rio.

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One of the many charming meat pushers at Porcão Rio.

When I was invited to Brazil to learn about Brazilian wine in the Serra Gaúcha region, you can bet one of the first things that went through my head was: trip extension! With some complicated ticket maneuvering and finagling, I was able to get myself to Rio de Janeiro for a week, a dream destination of mine (heck, of many!).

I tracked down an affordable apartment in Ipanema on Airbnb, just a 10-minute walk from the beach (yeah, off-season!). This was going to be one of my bigger solo trip adventures, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I was a bit apprehensive to be arriving in Rio late on a Saturday night. After me and my sister’s crazy experience getting a cab in the Mumbai airport at 3am, I guess I was ready for anything. I took it as a good omen that my cabbie was the most charming, kind man, who wasn’t out to fleece me—he just wanted to make sure I could see Cristo Redentor, lit up in the night sky and peeking through the clouds.

In fact, I didn’t have a single problem with any of the cabdrivers I had for the entire week in Rio. A couple were flummoxed by my odd attempt at Portuguese that leaned heavily on a combination of Italian and Spanish words, but most wanted to find out where I was from, practice their English, and get me to where I was going (and of course were stoked with my San Franciscan tipping practices).

A big win for solo (female) travelers doing Airbnb in Rio is that most residential buildings have doormen who will buzz you in and keep a close eye on things. I always felt safe where I was staying. After checking in with my Airbnb host, I ditched my bag and went out for my first Brazilian pizza at Alessandro E Federico in Leblon. Considering how many Brazilian pizzas I have ordered from Mozzarella di Bufala here in SF over the years, it was time to have one in its native country, and my hard-boiled egg, black olive, onion, and ham-topped pizza portuguesa (R$40) did not disappoint (even better with a few shakes of piri piri sauce). I sat outside at a table on the terrace, drinking some pink bubs, watching the pretty crowd—my week in Rio was officially on.

I was visiting in July, which is their winter, and the temps were the picture of pleasant: in the high 70s/low 80s during the day, and only slightly humid. Although, bummer, most of the days were cloudy, and I caught some rain too. My sister gave me some great advice, since she stayed in Rio once during the same period. She said if it was a clear day, to cancel your plans and head to the beach, because there’s no guarantee about having sunny beach days in the winter. She’s a fellow beach and sun hound, so it was good advice. Or save your sunny days to visit Cristo Redentor or Pão de Açúcar (Sugarloaf Mountain)—you’ll want a clear view for those.

Before heading to the praia (beach), I recommend stopping at one of the many sucos bars for fresh juices and açaí bowls (order it “na tigela” to get it in a bowl—I loved mine with granola, guaraná, and banana). One place that was excellent was Polis Sucos—I was all over the acerola, a sour fruit with a nutty amount of vitamin C (I was fighting a cold on my last few days, and I’m convinced that thing saved me). If you’re in Leblon, other places that are recommended are Bibi Sucos and BB Lanches (a word that always cracked me up—it means “snacks”). It’s fun to hang out at the open counter (I looooved the alfresco life in Rio), sipping your juice and taking in the scene. Italians have caffès, Cariocas have sucos bars.

A friend recommended suco de abacaxi com hortela (pineapple juice with mint)—what an elixir. I also liked being able to say “maracuja” (passion fruit) whenever possible (it’s also delicious in a caipirinha). I never made it to this place in Flamengo, which serves fresh açaí, but I sure wanted to. You can also get fresh coconut juice at the many stands for just a few reais on the promenade by the beach.

The beach culture is amazing—lined up along the beach are barracas, beach stands that people are very loyal to. They will rent you a chair, an umbrella, and basically bring you cocktails and cold beers all day—some even serve good food too. I enjoyed my steak sandwich from Barraca do Uruguay (#80), but it was Barraca do Joel (#79) that rocked my world on another afternoon—I noticed a guy was shaking up drinks like a pro, and I’ll be damned, I had some of the best caipirinhas of the trip while I lazed there in my beach chair. (Yes, plural.)

A few Rio-savvy friends and readers gave me some great tips about which part of the beach to go to. There are a series of postos that run along the beach, 12 in all (you’ll find bathrooms and changing rooms at each posto). I was told I’d want to park myself between postos 8 and 9, which would be gay/mixed, with “cool kids and weed smokers.” All good by me. There are also some rainbow flags along that stretch, but I saw fabulous gays mixed in all along the beach, not just in a designated area (although the beach was definitely gay-dense at the end of my street, Rua Farme de Amoedo). Ipanema is full of gays, so I felt like I was back in SF with all my boys—except everyone was tan and wearing tight shorts. As you go toward postos 10 and 11 in Leblon, you’ll find more rich, famous, and fashiony folks on the beach.

Sure, it’s intimidating to show up on a Rio beach all pasty and overweight, but you know what? These people don’t know you. You will probably never, ever see them again. And they really don’t care. So enjoy yourself. That was my attitude at least. Sure, there are hardbodies and painfully gorgeous women, but not everyone is beach Adonis/Aphrodite material—I saw allll types. Although yes, I did see some really amazing specimens of humanity. The Cariocas are some mighty fine people. Anyway, don’t stress out about it and have fun.

There is so much action—beaches in Mexico have nothing on Ipanema. There is a constant swirl of men selling food and drinks and snacks and bathing suits and hats. You just have to barely wave and they’ll come right over. My heart broke for some of them trudging through the sand, schlepping the heavier stuff.

The beach is a total circus. I can only imagine what it’s like in peak season. There’s the incessant yelling of “BISCOITO GLOBO!” (they are sweet or salty doughnut-shaped biscuits, a classic beach treat), and I was always happy to espy the guys dressed in white hawking “pão árabe pão árabe pão árabe!” (an awesome stuffed pita-like bread)—I also enjoyed the savory empadas, and the Matte Leão (iced tea) guys will refresh you. All without ever leaving your chair. Magic!

On my first visit, I didn’t bring anything of real value to the beach (besides my phone). Left my precious camera and all my credit cards in the apartment, and when I wanted to walk on the beach or go in the water, I sussed out some folks nearby and asked if they would watch my bag (and brought it over to them). People are so nice, so don’t worry, you’re not a bother. There is theft that can happen on the beach, but just pay attention to what’s going on around you.

The sand is so fine, and fluffy, and white. (You’ll track it everywhere.) The water is a little rowdy, so don’t just hop in—see where other folks are swimming. And you don’t want to miss a sunset on the beach (go to Arpoador for some of the best). The peachy-pink colors and the water and the dramatic backdrop of the mountains combine to make it such a breathtaking sight; one evening everyone around me made it so much more amazing: they applauded. I get goose bumps even writing about it, it was such a sweet, appreciative moment.

Hard-core beach lovers will want to consider trekking out of town to Prainha, which is supposedly beyond gorgeous (and not tooooo far, it’s about an hour south)—if you do go there, you have to eat at Restaurante Bira, famous for its moqueca (the owner is a fisherman), shrimp pasteis, and view (a friend warned that they don’t usually stay open past early afternoon, so try to arrive early).

I did a ton of walking in Rio. You’ll want to walk around a bunch—it was all so lush and tropical, trees dripping with vines, and there’s a fading modern glamour to a lot of the buildings. I went bonkers for the patterned, tiled pavement (calçada portuguesa) everywhere—seeing the iconic geometric wave pattern on the Copacabana promenade (designed by Roberto Burle Marx) for the first time brought a huge smile to my face. But those little tiles are murder when it’s raining, and are really easy to catch and trip on (and especially tough if you’re in heels), so tread carefully.

You’ll also see some of the best street art and graffiti, it’s everywhere. There were a few times I felt a little sketched out, but I mostly felt pretty safe. I always kept my camera and phone stashed away, and took a look around before taking them out of my shoulder bag (I swear by my Basil Racuk Monterey bag). Sometimes, I missed a shot I wanted, but that’s okay.

I was told that the food in Rio wasn’t going to blow my mind, and I didn’t have the budget to hit up a bunch of awesome (but spendy) places like Roberta Sudbrack or CT Boucherie (from chef Claude Troisgros). But I found so many spots that I really enjoyed, namely all the botecos/botequims that reminded me of Spanish tapas bars, with people hanging out, drinking chopps (which are draft beers—someone thankfully explained to me “chopp” comes from German: “Schopp”), and snacking on petiscos (I was digging all the little bolinhos (croquettes) and savory pasteis (little tarts).

Some favorite botecos were definitely the old-school Jobi (which is where I went after Brazil won the Confederations Cup in 2013 and the city exploded—can you believe I was in Rio for that?), and Bar Bracarense had some of the best bites (loved their coxinha de frango with catupiry cheese and their bolinhos de aipim).

One of my favorite nights was in Copacabana—in between catching a few pickup/live music sessions at the utterly charming Bip Bip (open since 1968!), I walked over to the stand-up counter at Restaurante O Caranguejo (it was like Rio’s version of Swan Oyster Depot). All seafood. Salty servers. Folks around me were tipsy, happy to chat you up while you drink your chopp and eat warm shrimp empadas and octopus salad. Loved this place.

Then it was back to Bip Bip—the well-seasoned owner, Alfredo, who has seen it all is parked out front at his table, with his ledger and change and beer—people walk in to the back of the shoebox space that’s shingled in memorabilia, grab a cold beer from the fridge, and then gesture to Alfredo and he writes it down on his pad of paper. You can stand around with other folks, listen to the sambaistas play as they sit around the table inside (or whatever that night’s genre of music is), and pay up at the end of the night. Pro tip: people don’t clap after a song, they snap their fingers. It was all so groovy.

You really, truly don’t want to miss a visit to the Copacabana Palace. (I know, go ahead and sing it.) This white palace is stately and elegant without being ostentatious—it’s truly so grand. For Sunday brunch, Pérgula Restaurant puts on quite the spread (for R$170, about $75), and if the weather is right, you can sit outside overlooking the chic pool area while servers dressed all in white swarm around tables, clearing plates and continually filling your glass. It’s a perfect place for you to get tipsy on bubbles, flaunt your sunglasses, and do some excellent people watching. It’s faaaaabulous.

I started with a plate of caviar and blini (and was very happy to see their house sparkling wine was Cave Geisse—finally, a Brazilian restaurant honoring their domestic product!) and almost needed to pinch myself. It was one of those moments. (“I’m in Rio de Janeiro. I am having brunch at the Copacabana Palace. It’s balmy and all so beautiful. This is crazy. I can’t believe my life.”).

There was so much seafood, including these unusual mussels with a huge red spot on them served in a vieira sauce, and towers of shrimp, and so many hot dishes too. Extravaganza. Good luck making it to the platters of desserts. They also put on a feijoada Saturday lunch, but it might put you in a serious coma, so be careful.

Another thing you have to do: experience the Brazilian churrascaria. For a culture known for being so healthy and gorgeous, they sure seem to chow down. Like, whoa. I have had many Italian family and holiday meals to prepare me for massive consumption in one sitting, but I still don’t think I have a handle on how to best manage the churrascaria experience. Just show up hungry, that’s for sure.

One morning I went to the top of Sugarloaf, and then had lunch at Porcão Rio, which has a stunning view of Sugarloaf and the bay. The lunchtime extravaganza was R$112 (about $50). There’s a caipirinha station, and then the most insane salad bar spread you’ll ever see in your life. Everything is carefully plated and presented (there’s a hell of a lot of garnish, and I have never seen chives used with such abandon). It’s a bit campy and over the top, but everything is really fresh.

For my first round at the salad bar, I tried a medley of items like a salmon and omelet roulade, and any chance I could get in Brazil, I was serving myself the fresh hearts of palm (obsessed!). I also tried their cold mussel salad, and carpaccio, and noticed a bunch of creamy + fish combos (Brazilians seem to dig those). No, the sushi bar was not going to be getting any action from me—I had to save up room for the meats. Was happy to find a 375ml of Casa Valduga sparkling on the wine list, come to mama.

The staff was incredibly nice and of course being a solo female diner means you get lots of extra attention. It was time for the meats: the roving meat carvers come to your table, proffering all kinds of cuts, from salty sirloin to rib-eye to saucy pork ribs to chicken hearts to linguiça. Beef and cheese, why not? The beef can be really seasoned and a bit chewy, but then suddenly you get a cut of the novilho (veal) and you’re like, ahhhh, damn, that’s really good. It’s a total adventure in food pushing, and you’re never exactly sure which cut they’re putting on your plate. Your table is also loaded with fried aipim (cassava), farofa, fries, and don’t forget the vinegary Brazilian salsa on the table, so good with the meats. I walked out of there feeling as sturdy and stout as Pão de Açúcar.

Part Two will be posted soon! For pictures from the entire trip, you can check out my images of Rio here.

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Bengali sweet potato pakoras with yogurt-truffle dip at Torc. All photos: © tablehopper.com.

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Wild boar bolognese with housemade bucatini at Torc.

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The interior of Torc (at the end of the evening).

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Arancini and Ca’ Momi Rosa Frizzante.

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Flatbread with lardo di Colonnata at Ca’ Momi.

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Rigatoni con coda alla vaccinara (oxtail) at Ca’ Momi.

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The BLAT at The Thomas at Fagiani’s.

A version of this piece previously ran in my Tablehopping column in the San Francisco Bay Guardian.

Sometimes you just need to get out of town, and look at that, we have Wine Country right in our backyard. Winter and early spring are an ideal time to visit: there are fewer crowds and better room rates, and it’s easier to make reservations. So let’s hit the road.

When exactly was the last time you stayed in downtown Napa? Exactly. Things are a-changin’. Check in to the ~ANDAZ NAPA~, which has an ideal central location, and while it’s a bit on the larger side, the hotel is aiming for boutique style. Go for one of the loft or terrace rooms if the price is right, and ask for a room that faces the back, not First Street (it’ll be quieter). Plan on getting some sleep, because the beds are a pillowy dream. When warm summer temperatures are back, the terrace (complete with fire pits!) will be open for drinks and hanging out.

Book a reservation for dinner at the recently opened ~TORC~ in the former Ubuntu. The handsome, spacious dining room contains 90 seats, with 17 at the bar. I recommend you start with a glass of the Charles de Cazanove Champagne ($16); the Euro-centric wine list is gonna make you thirsty.

Chef-owner Sean O’Toole (Quince, Cotogna, Bardessono) is one hell of a cook: his menu spans both the inventive and the traditional, ranging from Bengali sweet potato pakoras ($5) with yogurt-truffle dip to an elegant violet artichoke soup ($10). He is definitely rocking an international pantry. The Asian-inspired free-range chicken for two ($41) is a standout (it’s made with a vibrant farce of brioche, cardamom, cumin, clove, Tellicherry, star anise, cubeb pepper, allspice, pork fat, and butter), and it comes with creamy coconut rice. There are also some housemade pastas ($14-$19) you should strongly consider (remember, he has that Quince pedigree). One night we had the wild boar bolognese with bucatini—it was like an Italian molé, with cocoa and orange, and a hit of lime.

Dessert is truly a must. The pastry chef, Elizabeth Gentry, is so very talented; try the citrus-praline tart with lemon curd, caramelized hazelnut sablé, and smoked praline ganache (plus kumquat salt!), while chocolate lovers should get the Manjari chocolate bombe, rich with jasmine (both $9).

If you desire a nightcap, you can head to ~MORIMOTO~ for what is usually a lively scene in the lounge and bar, or enjoy a digestivo or grappa (my pick!) at the small bar inside ~OENOTRI~, conveniently within stumbling distance of the Andaz.

The next day, if you’re a biscuit lover, you’ll want to hit up the popular ~NAPA VALLEY BISCUITS~, a Southern diner serving biscuit-y breakfasts that will hold you until dinner (and help soak up any extended wine tastings later in the day). There’s also fried chicken and waffles, or you can go for the Yardbird: fried chicken, bacon, and gravy sandwiched inside a biscuit. Uh-huh.

Another option is to visit the ~OXBOW PUBLIC MARKET~. Start the day at the Ritual Coffee stand, and then take a seat at ~CA’ MOMI~, an enoteca featuring dishes from all over Italy (owners Dario De Conti, Valentina Guolo-Migotto, and Stefano Migotto take the authenticity of their dishes very seriously).

Order the Ca’ Momi Ca’ Rosa Frizzante to go with the flatbread with lardo di Colonnata, a rare treat. In fact, they’ll do all kinds of great wine pairings here, or you can go for a Venetian spritz or an Italian beer (like Baladin!). Piadine (Rimini-style flatbread sandwiches) also rule, especially the Giorgio ($12) with radicchio, prosciutto cotto, and creamy stracchino cheese filling.

Ca’ Momi’s blazing pizza oven cranks out about 20 kinds of pizza, from a classic (and VPN-certified) margherita ($16) to the Momi, with porchetta, taleggio, and caramelized onion ($17). If the carbonara with egg and pancetta isn’t a perfect brunch pizza, I don’t know what is. Plus there are nine kinds of vegetarian pies for those on a healthier tip. All ingredients are organic, and some even come from Ca’ Momi’s own garden for the restaurant.

If you’re in a lunchy mood, the pastas rock, like a northern Italian dish of spatzle allo speck with cream ($16), or the Roman rigatoni ($22) con coda alla vaccinara (with oxtail, pine nuts, and soffritto). Who can say no to gnudi ($16)? I usually can’t. For dessert, get the bigné—cream puffs with a variety of fillings.

~THE THOMAS AT FAGIANI’S~ has a tasty, casual brunch—think corn pancakes, good egg dishes, and a quality Bloody Mary—and if the weather is nice, the rooftop terrace is where you want to be. When tomato season is back, the BLAT (bacon, lettuce, avocado, tomato sandwich) is tops.

From there? Check out wine tasting rooms like Vintner’s Collective, 1313 Main, and Carpe Diem. The Culinary Institute of America is offering new Napa wine education classes at the CIA Wine Studies Annex in the former Copia, listed here. Oh yeah, and there are always the Napa Premium Outlets if you’re in a shopping frame of mind. (Dangerous after wine tasting, btw.)

For more Napa tips, check out my previous piece here.