My summer break took me on a two-week journey through the picturesque Southwestern United States. The tour launched from San Diego, California, by car and included stops in Scottsdale, Arizona, the Red Rock country of Sedona, Arizona, and finally Santa Fe, New Mexico, for a couple of memorable evenings at the stunning Santa Fe Opera House.
While planning, I was careful to choose hotels with a strong culinary focus. The Phoenician in Scottsdale, the Enchantment Resort in Sedona and La Posada Hotel in Santa Fe made the itinerary, based on the promise of an exceptional food and wine experience.
The outlier was a stop in Winslow, Arizona, on the return to San Diego. These days, Winslow is a sleepy hamlet, located in the Sonoran Desert, smack in the middle of Arizona’s high country, aka the middle of nowhere. My wife insisted we spend a night at the historic La Posada Hotel, which is not related to the hotel by the same name in Santa Fe.
The Winslow La Posada was built in 1929 and became the jewel of the Santa Fe Railroad Harvey House hotels in the heyday of rail travel. Winslow was a thriving hub in northern Arizona back in the day, with its train station and heavy auto traffic on the infamous Route 66.
The big move to air travel and the construction of the interstate highway system eventually took its toll on Winslow, and in 1957 La Posada was closed to the public and converted into offices for the Santa Fe Railroad. By the mid-1990s, the railroad decided to tear down the hotel, until the National Trust for Historic Preservation got wind of the decision and placed La Posada on its endangered list. It found a buyer in Allan Affeldt. He and his wife, Tina Mion, took possession in 1997 and immediately began work on the restoration. In 2000, they brought in renowned chef John Sharpe to operate the hotel restaurant, The Turquoise Room. Sharpe was nominated for a James Beard Award in 2011.
Dinner at the Turquoise Room was the highlight of my journey. I ordered the platter of quail, elk and venison and paired it with an outstanding Rhone-style red blend from the south of France. The bottle of wine from the list set me back all of $38. There were magnums of Napa Valley cabernet sauvignon from excellent producers for less than $100.
As I marveled at the depth of the list and the modest prices, the beverage director, Johnny Jackson, came to the table to deliver the wine. When I mentioned the extraordinary pricing, he said the most remarkable thing: "I try to buy closeouts, then I pass along the savings to our customers."
It’s such a crazy idea that it just might work. I know one thing for sure: I will return to this culinary oasis in the middle of the desert.
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