The random reviewer recommended the tasting menu, so we went for it. The food was good, and compared to NYC prices, it was well worth it. The chef had worked at the French Laundry in Napa and the menu was interesting and tasty. But there were some annoyances that made the whole experience sub-optimal, as Jeff would say. I'm just going to put it right out there, this is going to sound snooty...
We got the feeling that tasting menus were few and far between in the area. The waiter made a big deal about it, and I mean, Big Deal. Like, maybe they are the only restaurant in the state, if not in the Southwest, that does this. (Since they told us what a tasting menu was as opposed to asking us if we were familiar with the concept...) OK, you have a Tasting Menu - We Get It. Tasting menus have tiny portions, so we would get a course, a lengthy description of it, told how delicious it would be and then 12 seconds later another visit to inquire how it was and a reminder of how unusual and tasty it must be. Ummm, isn't it up to us to decide if it's good? By the time we were finished with the meal, we were so sick of the service we couldn't wait to leave. The service was technically good, friendly, no one was ever rude and we always got what we wanted, but it was like dining with a group of waiters. We were never left alone and they were just too proud of the food. The food was good but it leaves you questioning: if the food is so good, why can't you let it speak for itself? Why do you have to remind the patrons of how inventive it is?
A drink came on a flashing disco light-cum-coaster.
It was fun but you'd think they invented liquor with
the fuss they made over it.
When I had called the hotel earlier in the week to ask about hiking I was told it was best do it in the morning because the monsoons come in the afternoon and/or evening. Monsoons! What are they nuts? It's the Southwest. Don't they know monsoons happen in, like, India? Well, they showed me.
As we left Binkley's, the wind whipped up. A wall of sand was coming toward us and, for real, a tumbleweed rolled right in front of us. We got in the car and it started to hail. Giant chunks of something were falling out of the sky. The wind went crazy. I drove 17mph back to the hotel. We had to stay in the car for a half an hour waiting for the hail to stop. Cacti had been blown over, tumbleweeds were flying through the air, trees were down. It was bizarre. And the next morning, the grounds of the hotel had been torn apart. Debris everywhere, trees and cacti fallen all over. It was all cleaned up in a few hours but the place got hammered. And the weirdest part: any sign of water was gone. It must have hailed and rained inches and inches an it was all gone. Nary a puddle. Welcome to the desert, I guess.
We had met a little friend on the property who had chosen a strange place for a nest. It was in a cactus about chest high.
We figured this dove was an old bachelor bird. Crappy nest, weird spot, strange taste. We were worried about him after the storm so we went to check on him. He may be a she, and she ain't single.
See the baby? There was at least one other in there, too.
Another local:
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