Road Trip!

With cabin fever beginning to set in here recently, it seemed that a weekend out of town may just be the cure. As my job already dictated that I be in Cincinnati this past Friday for a few hours, the Mr. and I decided that mixing business with pleasure sounded like a fine plan. So after work on Thursday, we packed our bags, jumped in the car and headed two hours south to the Queen City.

We rolled into Cincinnati around seven-thirty that evening, and settled in happily at the Hyatt Regency downtown. A prior visit had convinced us that this hotel was a great lodging choice. The Cincinnati Hyatt offers comfortable accomodations in an upscale, contemporary setting, along with a uber-friendly staff and a fantastic city location. (And, for this visit, a pricetag of just over a hundred bucks a night, which certainly clinched the deal for us).

We grabbed a late dinner at the hotel restaurant, Champs, which connects to a terrific sports bar by the same name. While the menu offered a handful of entrees that sounded tempting, we settled on sandwiches and were not disappointed. My reuben was loaded with tender corned beef and cheese on nicely grilled marbled rye but, instead of the standard sauerkraut, the sandwich featured a creamy but slightly spicy coleslaw, which totally made the meal. Scott contentedly chowed down on an English style club sandwich, which arrived piled with shaved turkey, smoked bacon, but with the twist of a fried egg and Dijon spread. Both of us also loved the crispy fries that were served alongside in a cool little cone of paper nestled in twisty, vertical metal holder. With our bellies full, sleep came easily and early that evening.

Friday morning, I raced off to a hearing that lasted till just after noon. Once done with my work obligation, we turned to the pleasure portion of the trip. While Cincinnati certainly has a wealth of attractions to choose from, both downtown and further afield, we opted to simply spend a few hours checking out the downtown retail scene. We browsed through the luxuries offered for sale at Saks Fifth Avenue, and then hit Macy's to look at products we could perhaps actually afford. At Macy's, we found a gorgous Ralph Lauren lambswool sweater for my husband, which we snapped up for a ridiculously cheap forty-two dollars. We ended our shopping excursion at T.J. Maxx, where my husband scored again, picking up a Columbia down vest for fifteen bucks. In addition to the bargains we found, we also loved the fact that all of these stores are connected by an enclosed "skywalk", meaning we did not even need to venture outside into the cold weather to do our downtown shopping.

Back at the hotel, we hit happy hour at Champs, restoring ourselves with super-cold beers after our retail excursion. (I spent the bulk of this time trying to convince my husband that a Louis Vuitton purse we had seen at Saks would be a better expenditure than, say, the insulation we need for our home.)

Once happy hour concluded, we threw on some dressier clothes and headed down the street to Morton's steakhouse for dinner. And, oh my goodness, what a dinner it was. While it had been years since life had landed me at Morton's for a meal, I was promptly reminded as to why I consider it one of the best restaurants at which I've ever dined. (On the other hand, the prices quickly reminded me as to why, in fact, it has been a decade since I was last there.)

Our meal at Morton's started with a beautiful round loaf of warm bread, the cripsy crust covered in tiny slivers of flavorful roasted onion. We tore the loaf into chunks of the softest, freshest bread that either one of us had ever tasted and we promptly agreed we could happily dine on nothing but that bread alone.

Fortunately, we did not have to test our premise, as a serving of Oysters Rockefeller soon arrived. We practically swooned over these oysters on the half-shell, topped with (I'm thinking) spinach, parsley, cheese, a rich sauce and bread crumbs, then baked or broiled to a perfect finish. (Our only regret was that we neglected to try same dish in New Orleans at Antoine's a few months back, as that famous restaurant invented and - they claim - perfected the dish. Definitely our mistake...but Morton's has seriously got to be giving Antoine's a run for their money on this!)

Back at Morton's, huge salads and steaks shortly arrived at the table. The salads were delicious, but so gigantic that we regretted ordering them (because it turned out we certainly did not need the extra food). My doublecut filet mignon was predictably excellent, and Scott's face literally lit up with the first taste of his porterhouse, which cut like butter. We also foolishly split one of Morton's famous baked potatoes. (I say foolishly because, again, we certainly did not require the additional food, particularly as the potatoes are famous - or, perhaps, infamous - for being the approximate size of small footballs.)

Aside from the fact that our eyes were far bigger than our stomachs, the meal was absolutely, completely, incredibly fabulous. There may somewhere be a few equal steaks out there, but there are none better. Assuming we make it through the second mortgage and the triple-bypasses necessitated by this last visit, we shall definitely return to Morton's.

The next morning, on Saturday, we were out of the hotel and on the road back north before noon. The plan was to meet my sister in Dayton (an hour up the interstate) by midafternoon, and so we had a few hours to kill. We stopped at a new and highly touted outlet mall just north of Cincinnati, not-so-originally named the Cincinnati Premium Outlets. While the place was impressively large, most of the stores - as is usually the case with outlets - offered prices no better than their full-retail counterparts. However, two happy exceptions turned out to be The North Face and Columbia stores, both of which were full of winter stock at amazing prices. We snagged up bargains at both that were close to seventy-five percent off of original retail prices.

At the same highway exit, we also decided to visit Trader's World, billed as Ohio's largest flea market. (And I say "we", although the blame for this one definitely falls squarely on my husband's broad shoulders.) Before I totally rip on this place, let me just say that I absolutely love true flea markets...give me a bunch of booths or dirty old shelves full of discarded junk, no matter what its vintage, and I am in hog heaven. Trader's World, on the other hand, was all "new" items that simply defy adequate description as to how trashy, tacky, nasty and totally useless they were. We spent two bucks to get in, and even that was a colossal waste. So enough said about that.

Having thankfully escaped Trader's World with our lives, on to Dayton we drove. My sister, Nancy, was running late, so Scott and I enjoyed a midafternoon lunch at the Dublin Pub in the Dayton's funky, historic Oregon District. Scott's Sheppard's Pie was awesome and my romaine salad topped with spicy, blackened-sirloin was equally so. The Dub Pub also offers live music most nights, and we were a bit disappointed that our plans didn't allow time to stay and tip a few while listening to that evening's band. (Although we decided that we will definitely be back.)

We drove down the block and met Nancy at the apartment into which she was just moving...a very cool loft in an urban setting that seems to be enjoying an ongoing rejuvenation and repopulation. While I love my rambling and renovated ranch on its suburban half-acre outside of our large town, I am totally envious of the new bigger city life that is now at Nancy's doorstep and the loft-living that she will now enjoy. (Unfortunately, my camera was having battery issues and so I have no photos of the loft to post.)

After the rendevous at my sister's new place, we drove the last hour back to Lima. It felt good to be home and the cabin fever seemed to be gone, thanks to a weekend that included great company, great fun, great food, at a great price (not counting that meal at Morton's). All in all, couldn't ask for anything more.