The Conservative Soldier

We ventured off across America for Memorial Day weekend. Rather than go on complaining about the airlines, their attitudes and their soaring, shameless new fees, we simply boycotted them for a change. I placed all of my luggage in the back of a mid-sized German SUV, and, gleefully, did not charge myself for the second, third and fourth bags. Liberating, to be sure.

Driving 500+ plus miles from suburban Chicago to Nashville, Tenn., provides a pleasant reminder that gasoline, even at $4.00+ per gallon, is still pretty cheap, relatively speaking. In a mid-sized, 25 mpg German SUV, one can drive roundtrip to Nashville, more than 1,000 miles, for about $250 including lunch stops, or for around $83 per person in a family of three. What am I missing here? Is this excessive?

The real upside of taking to the road is that I am now able to credibly refute what many have suspected all along: that the mainstream/dinosaur/drive-by media has talked America into a recessionary, despairing mindset. According to the news readers and various wrist-wringing social commentators, everyone is “hurting”. The U.S. is a veritable Dust Bowl. Vacations are being canceled. Lives are turned upside down. And why? Need you ask? Because, you religion-clinging nit wits, the federal government and George Bush aren’t doing enough and don’t care about you. About us. All of us.

Out in America, from the farmlands of Indiana, to the rolling springtime beauty of Kentucky, to the vibrant music mecca of Nashville, this despair, this dark cloud, was not what we discovered during the Memorial Day weekend. Just by listening (Hillary, I believe, would say we’d accomplished a Listening Tour), I was encouraged that we are not in the Final Days, merely marking time until the Great Barack and the Empress Michelle rise to power and bring about sweeping CHANGE.

Out there across the fruited plain, I heard:

Local talk radio conversations focused on the gallantry and resolve of our American military, and expressions of great pride about what they have accomplished and will achieve in Iraq and Afghanistan and, if necessary, Iran.

Gasoline fueled vehicles zipping past. Transport rigs. Motorcycles. Huge RVs. SUVs. Pickups. America is still moving. Interstate 65 heading south was packed with folks heading to the Indy 500, or beyond, to the splendor of Old Kentucky thoroughbred farms, or to the sprawling Opryland Resort in Nashville.

Great country music, America’s music, performed before yet another full house at the Grand Ole Opry.

A congenial Tennessee-born bellman who said, “God Bless You”, when accepting his tip.

The buzz of hundreds upon hundreds of guests dining (and, yes, overdining), cocktailing, sun bathing, photographing, and celebrating inside the Opryland resort complex. Tickets for Sunday’s nearby General Jackson riverboat luncheon cruise and floor show nearly were sold out when I bought ours.

To the chagrin of the media lefties who desperately want to see our nation on the verge of economic collapse by Fall, just in time for Obamarama ‘08, my report from the road is that Americans are generally fat (frighteningly so) and relatively happy. Is everyone obscenely rich, paying for their fuel by peeling from a wad of 100s, ordering freely from the reserve wine list and partying with Paris Hilton? No. But, as we always do, Americans will persevere, work hard, love their kids and ride out whatever economic dips may come our way.

Why, on the General Jackson riverboat, the mostly average looking, middle class, predominantly senior folks, even applauded heartily for the live entertainment, the Peking Acrobats. I thought we’re all supposed to be honked off at the scheming Chinese for dissing the Dalai Lama and for consuming ever more gas and, thus, driving crude oil barrel prices through the roof?

We’re supposed to be a nation overpopulated by angry, economically ravaged, coupon clipping, war weary people who have canceled all leisure activities and parked our cars for good. Believe the media drum bangers, or treat yourself to a $100 tank of gas and go have a look at what’s really happening out there.

Dana Point, Calif.

Frequent travelers to Las Vegas likely have become devotees of Michael Mina dining experiences. There are four Mina restaurants in Vegas, two inside the MGM Grand, one at Bellagio, yet another at Mandalay Bay.

As the Mina collection expands so, too, does his client demographic reach beyond conventioneers and gamblers. We recently visited Mina’s Stonehill Tavern, the ultimate dining option inside the elegant St. Regis Monarch Beach Resort. Far from the Vegas neon glow, the property sits majestically above the California coastline between Los Angeles and San Diego. At Stonehill, not only is the menu, the service and the room well above exceptional, it is a gold mine for wine collectors who travel with bottles from their personal cellars.

Stonehill’s corkage policy allows two bottles per table and the corkage fee is a reasonable $25 per bottle.

(The Stonehill list, 650+ options strong, is beyond comprehensive. It’s quickly apparent why the restaurant ranks among Wine Spectator’s newly annointed Best of Award of Excellence honorees. We also dined a few miles away at Studio, a Spectator BAE winner within the rustic confines of the Montage Resort & Spa, where the corkage fee is just $15 with a one-bottle limit per table.).

We didn’t connect with the logic behind the “Tavern” reference in Stonehill Tavern until examining the menu more closely, for the room itself has a high-ceiling, glass enclosed, ultra-contemporary feeling that is very much in contrast to the stately refinement of the St. Regis itself. Chef Mina has managed to provide diners with two viable experiences under the same roof. You can do the “tavern thing” with Romaine salad to start followed by hearty choices such as Colorado Lamb atop cappeletti ($39; my main course selection, which was flavorful without the typical heaviness of most lamb presentations), braised veal cheeks derived from Nebraska prime beef ($46), “Berkshire Pig” adorned with black truffle jus ($37), or a juicy Kobe Beef burger topped with truffle cheese ($28).

But there also is the SoCal chic option, where one could conceivably go no further than the appetizer section of the menu. Mina offers high concept “appetizer flights” (perhaps inspired by the wine friendly environment) under the headings Maine Lobster, Liberty Farms Duck, Tuna, Crab, Greens and Osetra Caviar. In all cases, there are three preparations available, i.e., seared, Albacore sashimi and tartare under the Tuna category. But you don’t have to decide on one. You can order a tasting trio instead. So an ideal course of action for the light dining set might be the wild Arugula with heirloom tomato salad, followed by the Maine Lobster tasting trio ($38; chilled salad, bacon and shiso-wrapped fritters and butter-poached) or the Liberty Farms Duck trio ($34; crispy thigh, roasted breast and seared foie gras).

For the more aggressive appetite, Mina offers a six-stanza tasting menu with wine ($175), leading off with a domestic caviar “parfait” served with Cuvee Michael Mina private label Champagne by Chartogne Taillete.

Next time through coastal Orange County, we are likely to try the St. Regis set back in the hills with Pacific Ocean views (over the oceanfront Ritz-Carlton Laguna Niguel) and return to Stonehill Tavern to try the 1.5-pound Salt-Baked Maine Lobster. As the name implies, the course is presented in an armor of salt that is then cracked open after baking and served with jalapeno-corn pudding.

Punta de Mita, Nayarit, Mexico

As incomprehensible as it seems today, it was considered wildly adventurous as recently as 15 years ago to travel to Cabo San Lucas on the tip of the Baja Peninsula.

I was reminded of this a few weeks ago when planning a winter escape to Puerto Vallarta. We had been to crowded Cancun and were not inclined to return. Cozumel is nice (we stopped during a 2007 cruise) but getting there requires flying to Cancun, and seats were dwindling fast. We’d just been to Cabo in 2005.

The one destination with ample mid-January flights still available was Puerto Vallarta. Never been there, so why not, we agreed. But a well traveled friend quickly steered us away. The place to go, he said, is Punta Mita, just northwest of traffic snarled, pollution choked PVR. Punta Mita?

It sounded vaguely familiar. My friend offered a simple game plan. You go to Punta Mita, check-in at the peaceful Four Seasons resort, play a little golf on the Jack Nicklaus oceanside course (below, an ill-fated shot), do the spa, hang out. Life will be good.

The plan worked for me until I contacted the Four Seasons and learned that their only remaining rooms were priced off the charts. High season, of course. But persistence always pays. Trolling the Internet, we found a gorgeous four-bedroom beach house on a secluded beach called Playa Careyeros, less than one mile from the gates to the Four Seasons resort. The owner of the house even arranged through a contact to reserve golf tee times for me at the Four Seasons.

So we found ourselves with the best of all worlds. We discovered the fast emerging “now” destination some 20 miles from Puerto Vallarta called Riviera Nayarit, the wider region in which Punta Mita is located. We found a house we’d go back to without hesitating at one-third the price of a Four Seasons room . We dined every night at the resort, alternating among three Four Seasons restaurants. Played golf on a world-class course. Twice. Walked on a beach along which the largest number of people we witnessed at any one moment was about six. Observed whales in “mating mode” from the coastline.

So, 15 years from now when, hopefully, we are all congratulating ourselves for buying a little condo or beach villa in Riviera Nayarit, perhaps we will look back and marvel at our adventurous spirit.