Travel & Road Trips
Day into night in Rockaway Beach Newsday
We all have that distant cousin: The one who looks a little like us, lives an hour away and is always up to cool stuff, but whom we hardly ever see. For Long Island, Rockaway Beach is that cousin: Beachy like us, rich with adventure, and a relatively short drive away. We just somehow never get there because …. well, we have our own beaches, thank you.
Eating on Fire Island is often an uncomplicated affair involving a grill, a six pack and a heap of steamed clams — sometimes all three. When Islanders do go out to dine, it’s often in search of camaraderie and a bay breeze, and not necessarily haute cuisine. However, as the island’s menus have grown more polished, dining out here can mean tucking into sushi, crudo or even a small plate conceived by a celebrity chef.
It’s about a two-hour drive from Nassau County to Monticello, New York, in the heart of the former Borscht Belt — one that takes you along progressively smaller roads until you wend past pine trees and stone walls to New York’s newest upstate casino, Resorts World Catskills.
“Go to Estia’s. Everybody goes there.” It was a Sunday morning in August, and a friend and I had asked the clerk behind the desk at our inn about breakfast options in Sag Harbor. Her face was resolute. “It’s the best.” We realized she meant Estia’s Little Kitchen, a short drive out of sag Harbor on Route 114. Soon enough, we found it, a shingled house set back from the road.
Standing in the sun outside Vignoble de l’Orpailleur in Dunham, Québec, Caroline Décoste looked a little nervous when she was handed a metal saber and a bottle of sparkling wine. With one swift move, she ran the weapon along the bottle’s seamed edge until its top cracked off and the wine frothed on the grass. Décoste burst out laughing, and a dozen cameras clicked as her fellow bloggers snapped the sabrage.
Cider house rules: Québec’s cidrerie route is only a hop, skip and hiccup away Seven Days
Driving past a Québec apple orchard on a cold December day, one may notice what appear to be forgotten fruits hanging from the tree boughs, some covered in tiny icicles. But the shriveled pommes have not been left to rot; they’re destined for a noble end as cidre de glace, golden ice cider fermented from the dense, sweet juices pressed from frozen apples.
A culinary tour of Lake George Seven Days
Hi, ho, Toronto! Seven Days