Dining Editor, Writer + Shorter Writer 

Preferred mode of travel: I think nothing beats the experience of the Acela train. It’s so fast and quiet. Otherwise, I prefer to drive than fly if it is ever possible. There’s something unstoppable about an open road, a good radio signal, a hearty stipend for roadside cuisine, and a sun roof. 

An exception you make when you travel: In real life I am not that big into frozen yogurt, but in airports I can’t get enough. A TCBY spotting will actually get my pulse up.

Best hotel you've ever stayed at: Outside of the states, the castle-like Parador de Granada at the Alhambra Palace in Spain. Stateside, I really love the Parker in Palm Springs, California. I went last January on one of my silliest trips - I ended up having a work meeting at Jack Warner’s old house (of Warner Bros.) with a veteran British entertainment reporter, who offered to make me boiled eggs and tea to eat next to a pool that used to play host to Elvis’ bikini parties. That’s kind of the essence of California to me. And the Parker continued the feeling, with citrus fruits everywhere, raging bonfires in the garden, and Eames chairs as far as the eye could see.

Reading on the road: I like to use my travel time to catch up on back issues of Lucky Magazine (guilty), but when I do read, it needs to be something scandalous and not too heavy. For this, I recommend either Thisbe Nissen or Mary Gaitskill short stories, particularly from Bad Behavior. It feels devious to sit next to someone on a plane and read little vignettes about ponywhips and BDSM secretaries. 

Last vacation you really loved: I made the somewhat questionable decision to venture up to Portland, Maine in November, right as Old Man Winter was about to bring the pain on the entire state. It turned out to be wet and frozen, the kind of weather that seeps into your bones and turns you into the strange houseguest wearing full ski regalia indoors. But I had a pregnant lady to visit before she popped-and I’m so glad I braved the gales to do so. I love Maine. I could probably marry it if it wasn’t so distant and cold. For one thing, Portland’s dining scene is completely booming. I know that this has already been bandied about in the Times and every food magazine, but really, if you like to eat, at all, this is the trip to take. We picked lobsters right off a grizzled fisherman’s boat the first night and made a huge, buttery, giant crustacean bake for only about $5 each. I could go on and on...

Please do: Well, Maine lobster, eaten locally, is about the best gift you can give your tongue. And then there is Duck Fat, a small café where they fry everything in…well, yes. The milkshakes are something to believe in. Plus: The kitchen staff all wear polar fleece and Nalgene bottles slung around their hips with carabineers, like they could spontaneously go camping at any time. Maine! Across the street is the charming Rabelais, a shop stocked exclusively with cookbooks and food memoirs, with a proprietress that looks not unlike Meg Ryan in You’ve Got Mail. Finally—and perhaps this is all I need to say—Maine has an L.L. Bean outlet that is open 24 hours, 365 days a year. Who needs flannel pajamas or a monogrammed tent at 3a.m.? Who is the person that is rushing to the Bean at the crack of dawn for river waders and maple candy in the shape of a moose head? I can tell you that these people live in Maine. And that they will offer you mussels and sweetbreads and perfect omelets if you play your cards right.

Dream getaway: It may sound nuts given my aforementioned aversion to the cold, but I am aching to get to Moscow. I can’t shake this vision of wearing my grandmother’s heaviest mink and gazing up at the Spasskaya Tower, just before ducking into some velvet-walled haven full of whitefish and hearty bread and cherry vodka. 

Favorite short jaunt: I was lucky enough last year to get to participate in Kingston, New York’s annual Shamrock Run, a local race (For the calendar: it’s on March 14th this year) that involves running (or if you’re taking in the view, run-walking) 2 miles through Ulster County’s most charming town, and then capping the whole thing off with as much beer as you can drink, courtesy of the great local brewery Keegan Ales. Their dark, syrupy “Mother’s Milk” brew is like Guinness infused with chocolate foam. My friends Dan and Caitlin grew up in Kingston, where Cait is a verified local celebrity for dominating the race every year, and therefore winning her own commemorative trophy topped with a pint glass. Every participant gets a gold medal embossed with a four-leaf clover, and afterwards, you can tour the nearby Tuthilltown Distillery for whiskey and rye, grab one of the famous steamed Dallas Hot Wieners, which are native to Kingston (and are essentially a perfectly spiced chili dogs), or walk through the historical sites (Kingston was New York’s first capital, and home of many British battles and industrial revolution happenings). For a place that is just an hour and a half outside of the city, it feels like another world entirely.

Must have travel accessory: My iPhone has become like a fifth appendage, especially when I’m away from home. For maps, phone numbers, traffic patterns, directions, a 1000th game of Word Scramble, etc. 

Meal you would travel for: There are too many! But off the top of my head: Smoked salmon in Icy Straight Point, Alaska, the double-double (animal-style, with mustard on the side) at In-N-Out, the green chile chicken enchiladas at El Patio in Albuquerque, a pint of London Pride and a bag of salt chips at the Turf Tavern in Oxford, those cinnamon-lace cookies they sell hot off griddles in Prague, the quesillo, amaranth cookies, and mole negro in Oaxaca, and a fresh avocado bathed in lemon and oil in Santiago, Chile, where for some reason the avocados are always, always perfect. 

Techniques for improving our airport experiences: Take JetBlue. Short of that, I think grabbing a drink (or three) before the flight, if you’re early, is never a bad idea. Airports feel like such foreign, sterile environments to me, so if I can find a sit-down bar, order a glass of wine, and read a trash magazine for a second, it really humanizes the experience and makes me less nervous about being cattle-prodded into a plane.  

Biggest thing you've learned when traveling: I’ve been so, so lucky to have been traveling since I was young-early on, my parents took my brother and I to some amazing places (the beaches of Jamaica and St. Lucia, the classic Western Europe eat-a-thon, Mayan ruins, Berlin in artic conditions), and the bug bit us both. While my brother prefers far-flung adventures (he’s woofed in New Zealand, crashed couches through Spain, and surfed the big waves in California), I learned, through traveling, that I am really a city person. This doesn’t sound like a revelation, but for someone who grows up in New Mexico in an adobe house, it was. I was enchanted by all the cities I visited, especially Santiago and London, where I spent periods of high school and college, respectively, and even more so, by New York. My maternal grandparents were native New Yorkers who moved West due to McCarthyism and the Rosenberg trial (long story), but their bagel-and-lox mentality always resonated with me, and when I saw this place for the first time, I simply felt comfortable here. Some people never feel at home in big cities - I don’t feel at home anywhere else, even though I wouldn’t change my desert background. Subway maps and traffic and flashing lights and aqueducts and hordes of people just make sense to me, and I probably never would have known that if I hadn’t had the real privilege of getting around.