Earlier this fall I had the pleasure of returning to the 19th century, Victorian style resort Mohonk Mountain House in New Paltz, New York.  Nestled into the Shawangunk Mountains in New York’s oh-so scenic Hudson Valley, about 90 minutes west of NYC, Mohonk has become synonymous with relaxation and comfort.  A National Historic Landmark as well as a Historic Hotel of America, the 265-room hotel has been owned, operated and cared for by the same family, the Smileys, since 1869.  They have made every effort to jettison their guests away from the chaos and stress of daily life and into a world of wholesome luxury and fun.    Blame it on a desire to squeeze every single hotel-sponsored activity into my visit but I never miss afternoon tea.  In spring, summer and fall we sit on wooden slat rocking chairs and take in the views of the putting course, gardens and huge fish swimming in Lake Mohonk.  In winter we curl up in front of one of the resort’s 138 working fireplaces and dunk our peanut butter, oatmeal raisin and sugar cookies into steaming cups of black tea.   So winsome.  So delicious.  So …

Before a recent trip to St. Louis, all that I knew about the “gateway to the West” was just that — the St. Louis a/k/a “Gateway” Arch.   Au contraire!  There is far more to this city of 354,000 than the iconic 630-foot high and 630-foot wide monument.  Lush parks, vibrant festivals, beautiful museums and unique, local foods rank high among the many offerings. As luck would have it, my visit coincided with the 36th annual Great Forest Park Balloon Race.  The colorful, two-day event kicked off on Friday evening with the traditional “balloon glow;” roughly 39 inflated hot air balloons, illuminated by their burners, stood in Forest Park’s Central Field where spectators strolled, snapped photos and partook of food and drink.  The next day’s race filled the sky with these plump, cheerful balloons.  Both on land and in the air they were a breathtaking sight. The 1,293-acre Forest Park is a site in its own right.  Home to the 1904 World’s Fair, it now contains the city’s art and history museums, zoo, science center, tennis center and opera house.  An art addict, I spent an afternoon admiring the works of such diverse artists as Chuck Close, …

Tell people that you’re headed to Maine and more than likely you’ll hear “Oh, you going up there for the lobster? ” Repeated trips to the easternmost state have taught me that there is more to Maine than cold water crustaceans. Spend a few days in Portland, the largest city in the state, and you’ll soon see what I mean. With a population of 64,000 Portland’s size pales in comparison to most urban centers. What it lacks in numbers, it compensates in character, history, charm and cuisine.  Such is the case at Becky’s Diner.  Located at the end of Hobson’s Wharf, Becky’s has been sustaining local fishermen, townspeople and tourists for close to 20 years.  Its wholesome food and friendly service pack the red vinyl booths and counter stools “362 1/2 days.”  Don’t miss the perfectly cooked home fries, generous amounts of fresh fruit and scrumptious grilled muffins at breakfast, my favorite meal there. Nestled in a low brick building one block from the water in the Old Port District, Fore Street and its culinary feats have been recognized by the James Beard Foundation as well as Gourmet …

Primanti Bros. and Pamela’s.  Multiple Pittsburgh locations.  Loads of good, uncomplicated food.  Hot, hungry and thirsty, my childhood friends Nickie, Marilee, Jen, Ann and I wound up seated at the counter of the original Primanti Bros.  Located on 18th Street in the Strip District, Primanti’s has been serving its famous french fry and coleslaw-stuffed sandwiches here for 75 years.  This locale operates 24-7, perfect for the bar crowd or for anyone craving a kolbassi and cheese or sardine and cheese sandwich at 3 in the morning. On a late Saturday afternoon our needs were a bit more mainstream.  Along with chilled bottles of Iron City Beer, the drink of derision for much of my 20s but not for my nostalgia-fueled 30s, we chowed down such “and cheese” sandwiches as jumbo fish, spicy capicola ham and ragin’ cajun chicken breast.  Not one of us could finish these huge sandwiches.  The beer, however, was a different tale.   Along with the good friends and food, the best part of eating at Primanti Bros. was the free show.  By sitting at the counter, we could watch the cook grill …

Moving to suburban Philly after college, I got a lot of flack about being from Western Pa.  “Pittsburgh?  That’s not a city!”  And then I moved to New York for graduate school.  You can just imagine what I heard.  Yet, when getting together with my childhood friends, I can think of no more fitting gathering spot than the city of our youth.  With a wealth of museums, parks, shopping districts, restaurants and bars Pittsburgh offers both the casual visitor and hardcore tourist countless things to do.  This summer my friends and I revisited the Andy Warhol Museum, the largest American museum devoted to a single artist.  Want to see Elvis, the Last Supper, Silver Clouds or Brillo Boxes writ large?  The Warhol’s got them as well as 4,000 other works of his art.   Along with a love of New York, the Velvet Underground, eccentricity, art and cats, the late pop artist and I share a birthday.  I found it quite fitting to be there, admiring the best of Andy and his Wild Raspberries cookbook, less than two weeks before our special day.    A short ride up the Duquesne Incline …

  If you have ever lived anywhere near Pittsburgh, you will undoubtedly recognize these magical words:  Jeet jet?  No, j’ou?  I did eat, and quite well, at this year’s annual gathering of childhood friends in Pittsburgh.  From ice cream at Dave and Andy’s in Oakland to french fry-stuffed sandwiches at Primanti Bros. in the Strip District, Ann, Jen, Marilee, Nickie and I gorged ourselves on some of the Steel City’s finest classic foods.       Our culinary tour de force began at Girasole in Shadyside.  Located in a basement level, former coffee house on Copeland Street, this cozy bistro featured Northern Italian cuisine dished out in an intimate, exposed stone-walled dining room.      On this particular Friday evening Girasole was a blur of activity.  A packed house didn’t prevent us from receiving attentive service and delightful meals, though.  Each entree came with a house salad, two words that invariably make me cringe.  At most restaurants “complimentary house salad” translates into limp iceberg lettuce topped with slivers of pink tomatoes and a scattering of carrot confetti.  At Girasole it meant plates brimming with mixed greens, whole cherry tomatoes, chickpeas, crumbles of gorganzola cheese …

Before visiting Sweden last year, I didn’t devote much time to the country’s cuisine. Sure, I had thumbed through chef Marcus Samuelsson’s “Aquavit” cookbook and watched his and Andreas Viestad’s food shows on PBS. Yet, I still only had vague notions about Swedish cooking. At best I envisioned smoked salmon, pickled herring, and brilliant red lingonberries. At worst I thought of small meatballs drowned in thick, brown gravy. While Swedes do consume these classics, I learned that they also dine on a plethora of enticing and unique dishes. Featuring ingredients from the forest and the sea, their fare showcases some of the best culinary aspects of the country. Thanks to rugged coastlines and a wealth of seafood, folks here know how to prepare crustaceans and fish. One of the most beloved, crayfish, even has its own seasonal feast. In August outdoor crayfish parties — with colorful paper lanterns, tablecloths, plates, bibs and hats — are all the rage. While crayfish has been a national delicacy since the 16th century, these celebrations didn’t begin until the …

For someone who loves to travel and cook, the prospect of helping my friend Christina, fellow alum of Columbia University’s graduate journalism school and resident of Stockholm, prepare for her 40th birthday party could not have been more tantalizing.  So, while my husband Sean bounced around Europe, attending business meetings, I recently hung out in Stockholm for 9 days, shopping, cooking, and sampling the fruits of our kitchen labors. Because I am accustomed to cheap American food prices, I found grocery shopping in Stockholm shocking.  A quart of milk ran about $4.  A pint of raspberries went for anywhere from $7 to $15.  A single bottle of 3.5% ABV beer, the only kind sold at markets, cost at least $3.  Wine?  I paid twice the amount that I do in NY for a bottle of Penfolds Koonunga Hill Shiraz-Cabernet.  No wonder everyone asks out-of-country guests to pack a healthy stash of alcohol in their suitcases.  Forget that extra sweater. Bring more rum!    Vibrant outdoor markets, such as the one held behind the Hotorgshallen food hall, did offer bargains.  There I stocked up on bundles of fragrant fresh mint for Friday night’s mojitos.  At less than $1 …