Last spring, I flew from Los Angeles to Arizona to drive a van packed with vacation paraphernalia from Tucson to Wausau, Wisconsin. The in-laws would annually spend a chunk of time in the dry Southwestern desert heat to escape the bitter Wisconsin cold during the year’s early months. But they needed help with the grueling drive back.
Never one to resist the call of the open road, I jumped at the task, with the promise that we’d finish each day with a well-curated meal, no matter how remote our location.
Day One
On the last day of May, we leave Green Valley, an upscale retirement community on the outskirts of Tucson, promptly at 8 am. We head east on the 10, with Roswell, New Mexico as our goal.
Diversions:
Packed with Wisconsin cheeses and charcuterie—and trying to resist the siren song of fast-food signposts that continually dot the highway—we stretch our legs at a unique rest stop overlooking Las Cruces, New Mexico. The place is an architectural marvel, replete with shaded picnic benches compartmentalized like personal restaurant booths. A metal roadrunner statue, a giant homage to the state bird, stands vigil at the entrance like a protector.
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We make a second stop at McGinn’s Pistachio Land off the I-70 in Alamogordo, drawn by its unmistakable landmark: a giant concrete pistachio. The homemade Blue Bell pistachio ice cream is as good as billed, and the vast McGinn’s Country Store boasts every imaginal kind of nut, hot sauce, dried fruit, brittle and—my road food obsession—beef jerky.
Dinner:
After almost eight hours behind the wheel, we arrive in Roswell, too late and too hungry to explore its UFO legacy and all the curio shops that service that claim.
At the recommendation of the desk clerk, we dine at Antigua Cocina Mexicana , within walking distance of our Hampton Inn on North Main Street.
Vibe: Upscale sports bar meets elegant hacienda with pin-cushion leather booths.
What to order: The seafood selection looks promising. But this is red-meat country — 21-day, dry-aged steaks—including a Cowboy (16 oz.) and a Tomahawk, as well as the Antigua Burger, made with choice Angus brisket, chuck and Duroc pork belly. I end up with the charbroiled quail, infused with a garlicky 48-hour marinade with a caramelized skin that stimulates the senses. The Flan Almendrada, with a custardy texture smooth as silk, provides the perfect palate cleanser.
Day 2
After almost 10 hours on the road traversing the Texas panhandle and the northwest tip of Oklahoma, we arrive in sleepy Mulvane, Kansas, with a lonely-looking Main Street right out of The Last Picture Show .
Dinner:
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The clear choice is Luciano’s , with a reputation that transcends its avid local fan base.
Vibe: Like stepping through a portal to a precious trattoria in an Italian hilltop town. The executive chef, Luciano Mottola, is from Viareggio, Italy, and the place is filled with sepia-toned family portraits, house-made products, and a butcher case with beautifully marbled cuts.
What to order: The velvety pasta is all homemade and the menu is filled with tantalizing choices. The delectable salads are served in lattice-work Parmesan cheese bowls. Steaks are a specialty, so we go with the Filetto al Pepe Verde, filet mignon flambéed in a brandy, green peppercorn, and mushroom cream sauce; and the Tagliata, a Kansas City strip topped with Parmesan and olive oil, paired with asparagus. We order a carbonara to share and it’s like we’ve died and gone to heaven. If this place was in L.A., it’d be packed every night.
Day 3
Our roughly nine-hour, 600-mile drive to Rochester, Minnesota. takes us through the northeast tip of Missouri and the entire north-south expanse of Iowa, the heart of the Corn Belt.
Diversion:
The Dows Junction in North Central Iowa touts a Civil War theme. Although Iowa was a Union state, this well-appointed rest stop takes no sides, with plaques calling equal attention to Abraham Lincoln and Jefferson Davis, or “The War for Abolition” vs. “The War for Southern Nationality.”
Rochester’s Downtown:
There’s no getting around the Mayo Clinic’s dominance as the city’s raison d'être, and the gleaming, stately civic center, centered around the Mayo campus and attendant structures, is chock-a-block with buildings listed on the National Register of Historic Places. The plethora of alluring eating and drinking options on Historic 3rd Street alone could form its own guidebook.
Dinner:
We settle on Mango Thai on Broadway Avenue South, with the acknowledgment that we weren’t exactly in unfamiliar territory. Even subpar Thai is reliable. This place is exceptional.
Vibe: Bright, vibrant room accented with orchids, exposed brick walls and a sleek bar.
What to order: The mango spring rolls are a work of art, wrapped in rice paper and served in a martini glass. Entrees include Basil- and Ginger-Roasted Duck, both stringent with herbs and vegetables but packed with flavor. Seafood choices include Red Curry Seabass and Green Curry Walleye, effectively the state fish that benefits from the light batter it gets here. This is comfort food that demands a return engagement.
Day 4. The final stretch
Less than four hours from our destination, we’re tempted to explore Chippewa Falls, made famous as the hometown of Woody Allen’s fictional Annie Hall. Instead, we approach Wausau from the south via Wisconsin Rapids.
Diversion:
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Our last rest stop, off the I-34, is the village of Rudolph, the most popular postmark in Wisconsin at Christmas. Here you’ll find the Wisconsin Dairy State Cheese Company , a mecca of dairy goodness from aged cheddars to cheese curds to hand-rolled butter. For cheese heads, this is the mother lode. We grab a tub of Pine River cheddar spread (“smokey bacon flavor”) that we’ll later spread on Triscuits – a snack I always associate with the in-laws.
The Last Supper
Safely ensconced in Wausau, the trip wouldn’t be complete without the classic Wisconsin supper club experience as our final reward. For this, we venture out to the Bootleggers Lodge in the remote burg of Tomahawk, about half an hour north of Wausau.
Vibe: Old West saloon meets elegant, lakeside hunting lodge with pounded tin ceilings, antler chandeliers and the wrap-around bar of your dreams.
What to order: Being a Saturday, it’s prime rib night and who’s to argue? There’s also a 60-day dry-aged ribeye, a Wagyu hangar steak, and horseradish-crusted Norwegian salmon. Starters include a sinfully delicious lobster bisque and a grilled Caesar salad, while bacon Brussels sprouts with a maple glaze and truffle frites with malt vinegar aioli are the flavor bombs you’d expect. This is the kind of place where you order an Old Fashioned (with brandy, please!) while you ponder the menu. The service is impeccable. When I point out that my half-inch slab of prime rib is a bit too blood red for my taste, it’s replaced by a perfectly pink iteration with an attitude that aims to please.
This is my kind of sweet spot. We toast our efforts and vow to return.
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