I forgot how much I love Santa Fe: Cool, dry southwest nights that smell like a fire is constantly roasting in the distance (because it is); a robust artist community; buildings that, if it weren't for the festive farolitos lining their rooftops, blend into the surrounding landscape. The whole place is awash in clay colors and the streets feel like haven't changed much since the 17th century. Thankfully, the food has. Chic locals and travelers alike cozy into the bar at La Posada, called the Staab House. When I was there last week, a group of filmmaker friends fresh off the Sangre de Cristo Mountains debated who might be crowned at this year's Sundance to my left, and to my right, a young pair of honeymooners sipping prosecco in silence. It's a great place for either group, with a series of raspberry-walled rooms, multiple fireplaces toasting up the place, and a welcoming wood bar should you choose to forgo the cushion-y seats. My martini was clean and ice-cold, adorned with three plump, salty olives and just the right amount of vermouth. It was a perfect way to prep for my facial at the hotel's RockResorts Spa.
Check in tomorrow for another Santa Fe pick.
Leave a comment