WALK past the low-ceilinged bar, the jukebox and the pool table. Keep going, beyond the stage where “Queeraoke” erupts every Tuesday, and right out the back door. Feel the sunshine on your face and inhale the relatively fresh air (this is New York, after all) that makes Metropolitan the most popular gay hangout in Brooklyn on summer Sunday afternoons.

Excerpt

Even from a distance, it’s easy to see that The Roxbury is not your average Catskill Mountain motel. The vivid green detailing on the white wooden walls, the elaborate mosaics and murals, the scintillating LED displays that light up as the evening crickets begin to chirp—taken together, they hint at the delights and surprises that await inside this unique destination hotel. No two visits to The Roxbury are the same because no two rooms are the same. Suites range in style from a baroque dream of gold and mirrors (“Amadeus’ Bride”) to electric disco fabulousness (“Tony’s Dancefloor”) to Swinging Sixties chic (“The Mod Pod”). No element—from the lighting fixtures to the bathtubs—has gone unconsidered. It is this attention to detail that allows visitors to immerse themselves fully in the fantasy that each theme room evokes. Those seeking added luxury can visit the on-premises Shimmer Spa (open from 8 am to 8 pm). At night, guests are welcome to build a bonfire in the Motel’s fire pit, or borrow one of the many movies and games available in the main office. All rooms also come with HD flat-screens and cable.

The town of Roxbury seems like a Catskill Mountain theme room itself, with its beautiful Victorian homes; babbling brooks; and small, local radio station. It provides the perfect counterpoint to the stylized richness of the Motel, and everything is within easy walking distance. Visit the adjacent Public Lounge for a specialty house cocktail, like the Flaming Cosmo, a deceptively smooth mixture of pomegranate juice and vodka. For a delicious meal, visit Peekamoose Restaurant (845-254-6500, peekamooserestaurant.com), located in nearby Big Indian. Owner Devin Mills has worked in some of the most famous New York kitchens, including Gramercy Tavern and Le Bernardin. If antiques and handicrafts are part of your fantasy vacation, visit the nearby towns of Margaretville and Andes. Ski trails, zip-lines, and hiking paths all are located within a 15-minute drive, and The Roxbury’s friendly staff is happy to make recommendations or reservations.

The Nitty-gritty: Rooms range from $99 to $345 per night. Access to The Shimmer Spa is $20 per person, and 55-minute massage treatments range from $100 to $135.
—HR

My parents’ dining room table is early 20th-century mahogany, with solid columnated legs and comfortable seating for six—eight if necessary, 10 on desperate family occasions. In the morning, it’s newspaper sprawl and pots of coffee. In the afternoon, laptops and lunch. Family dinner, whether for two or twelve, is always at the table. It is the anchor to which life in the house is tethered. When I think of living in Westchester, I think of that table.

Since leaving home, I have, by conservative estimate, lived in nine New York City apartments. Not one has had a dining room table. In fact, not one has had a dining room. For years, I dreamed of four walls dominated by a massive wooden slab and a dozen hard-backed chairs, blaming space and money and time for my lack. When I could fit a table, I couldn’t afford one. When I could afford one, I was worried I would soon move and need to transport it. And always, always, always, there was the question of carving a dining room out of my already too-small apartments.

But in truth, my lack of a dining room table wasn’t about space. When I’ve had spare rooms, my roommates and I dedicated them to work areas, storage, or awkward things we didn’t want elsewhere, like litter boxes and sentimental trash. (I’m looking at you, poorly framed photo of my college dorm.) My current apartment is a converted loft that could fit my parents’ table three times over, but we make do with a breakfast bar and two small tables that we shove together when needed.

A good home, small or large, city or suburban, has a place for everything and everything in its place. This doesn’t just mean a drawer for silverware or a great shoe rack. It means a room for every daily purpose: sleeping, cooking, showering. A dining room and its table are a physical manifestation of an expectation: that dinner will be eaten here, by many people, most days of the week. It is a way of looking at the world, an inward focus that my life in the city rarely has.

To live in New York City means to live in public, gloriously and pathetically, hilariously and tragically. It means schlepping dirty laundry three blocks while wearing pajamas, and summertime stoop-side hangout sessions with temporary neighborhood friends. It means dinner in a different place, at a different time, with different people, every single night. It means no room for a dining room table, not because of crowded space, but because of crowded lives.

Island Creek Oyster Bar brings a special twist to the trend of farm-to-table restaurants: the small farms carefully listed next to each dish on Oyster Creek’s menu specialize in aquaculture, the raising of seafood and shellfish. But that’s not all: the restaurant itself is an extension of Island Creek Oysters, a farm founded in 1992 in nearby Duxbury, Mass. So it’s no surprise that though the menu is long and varied, at Island Creek, which opened in October, oysters take pride of place.

On a recent visit, 12 varieties were on offer, mostly from Massachusetts, but with a few from California, Washington and Canada. Our waitress recommended the Island Creek oysters themselves and the Dodge Coves, from Maine. Both are from the same batch of seed oysters, so tasting the two side by side emphasizes the importance of “merroir” — a term the oyster community uses in place of terroir. The Island Creek oysters were large and finished with a melonlike sweetness, while the Dodge Coves were more briny.

“Our nursery is in a saltwater river, where the water is warmer,” said Skip Bennett, the founder of Island Creek and a co-owner of the Oyster Bar. As the oysters mature, they are moved closer to the ocean. Their gentle upbringing produces large oysters with a sweet ocean taste. Shigoku oysters, from Bay Center, Wash., also stood out as particularly bright and flavorful.

Raw isn’t the only option, of course. More oysters, battered and fried, are served as sliders on sweet brioche buns. (The fried versions lack the seawater brininess of the fresh ones, making them a good dish for kids or squeamish novices, but disappointing for true aficionados.)

Island Creek’s seafood preparations extend beyond the oyster. An appetizer of steamed Duxbury littleneck clams, flavored with orange, basil and garlic, was delicious, with a pleasingly firm texture.

Jeremy Sewall, the executive chef and a co-owner, is equally adept at handling terrestrial ingredients, and there is a small section of the menu titled “From the Land.” The Vermont burger with Cheddar and house-cured bacon on a sweet caramelized onion roll is delicious. But it’s no competition for a neatly composed main dish of seared scallops with kuri squash, black trumpet mushrooms and kumquat. The acid in the kumquat brightens and brings together the deep umami flavors of the scallops and mushrooms. It is this attention to flavor composition and ingredient sourcing that elevates Island Creek above the recent spate of new oyster joints.

Island Creek Oyster Bar; 500 Commonwealth Avenue; (617) 532-5300; islandcreekoysterbar.com. Meal for two, about $100 without drinks or tip.

Preston Hollow

Bees Knees Cafe

For nearly 200 years, the old farmhouse on Broome Center Road has been the heart of Heather Ridge, a working farm in the Catskills town of Preston Hollow. For the last year, it’s also been home to the Bees Knees Cafe. Open only for lunch on Saturdays, it is a culinary showcase for local farmers, beekeepers, cheese makers and butchers.

As you’d expect in a farmhouse, service is relaxed. On a visit in July, we placed our order in the kitchen, grabbed a pitcher of fresh black currant lemonade and staked out one of four picnic tables to await our food. Many of the preparations were simple and highlighted the freshness of the ingredients: a panini of thinly sliced, delicious beef, served rare, with a farmstead cheese and grilled onions; a hearty beef and pork chili over a fresh-baked corn muffin. But there was also complexity, as in the smooth summer squash and chèvre custard, which we paired with a refreshing cold cucumber, yogurt and dill soup.

Carol Clement, a co-owner of Heather Ridge and Bees Knees, made an announcement: “We’ve got five new goat kids.” She invited us to see them after lunch.

When asked what on our plates wasn’t local, it took her a moment to respond. “The lemons,” she finally said with a laugh.

Between Memorial Day and Columbus Weekend, Bees Knees serves food on the front lawn, which overlooks the peaks and valleys of the Catskills. The menu changes weekly. During the winter (or inclement weather), the tables are moved inside, and a smaller menu features a selection of hearty soups, stews and breads. In warmer weather, a tour of the farm is offered one Saturday a month. In the winter, tours can be arranged on an informal basis.

Many of the dishes and their ingredients are available in bulk at the farm store in the same building. We took home a quart of chili, two pints of currants, a dozen eggs and a backpack full of meat. When we exclaimed over the honey-vanilla ice cream that topped a hot slice of blueberry cobbler, Ms. Clement said she could make us a pint if we gave her a day. (Customers can also order ahead via phone or e-mail.)

But one of the most welcome things at Bees Knees is not on the menu, and cannot be taken home with you: there is no cellphone reception. The only buzzing comes from the beehives on the back porch.

Bees Knees Cafe, 989 Broome Center Road; (518) 239-6234. Average meal for two, without drinks or tip, about $25.

New Orleans

Mike’s on the Avenue

Vicky Bayley, a co-owner of Mike’s on the Avenue, believes the New Orleans post-Katrina, post-spill restaurant scene is stronger and more innovative than ever.

“Sometimes when you lose everything, you take more chances, because you’re not afraid anymore,” she said.

If anyone can speak to the evolution of New Orleans restaurants, it’s Ms. Bayley. Together with Mike Fennelly, chef and co-owner, she opened the original Mike’s on the Avenue in 1991 and was credited by many with bringing Asian fusion to New Orleans. After a successful decade, they closed Mike’s to pursue other projects. Now, 10 years later, the two have reunited in the same location, right off the bustling French Quarter.

“It was like coming home,” Mr. Fennelly said. “I had done my wanderlust and ran all over the world — and I got sick of it.”

New Orleans has welcomed them back with open arms — and mouths. Memory, however, exerted a pull. During a visit earlier this year, two months after they opened, they said they still had patrons looking for favorite dishes from the old restaurant. “Where’s your oyster burrito? And where’s the brioche bread pudding?” were common questions, Ms. Bayley said. (They’ve adjusted the menu multiple times, and the bread pudding has mounted a successful comeback.)

But this Mike’s on the Avenue has also evolved. Mr. Fennelly cites his travels, including five years spent in Hawaii soaking up Polynesian culture, as his inspiration for the current menu. The rich sweetness of lilikoi, a Hawaiian variety of passion fruit, is infused in several dishes, including a dense and delicious cheesecake and a green-tea mint-rubbed double-cut pork chop with a lilikoi glaze. And contrary to what you might expect in New Orleans, all of the fish used for sushi is flown in daily from Honolulu.

But while the menu reflects Mr. Fennelly’s travels, it also melds them with the flavors of Louisiana. Mike’s crispy duck may feature shiitake mushrooms, but it’s served over brown rice with chunks of tasso, a Cajun ham, and andouille sausage. And the sushi box appetizer includes a Cajun crab roll.

Although the location is the same, the space, too, has changed. Half of what was once Mike’s is now Twist Cocktails, a bar and private event space. Serving half the number of patrons was a conscious choice, Mr. Fennelly said. “As a chef, doing 100 people at a time versus 200 is much better. We have so much more control.”

Like New Orleans itself, Mike’s is back — just a touch smaller and with a twist.

Mike’s on the Avenue, 628 St. Charles Avenue; (504) 523-7600; mikesontheavenue.com. An average dinner for two, without drinks or tip, is about $70.

At the Blind Pig, Joseph Frase, the chef and an owner, smokes his own sausage in the backyard — appropriate for a restaurant in Louisville’s Butchertown neighborhood. His menu reflects the working-class history of the area, with upscale renditions of pan-European peasant fare like spaghetti alla putanesca and shepherd’s pie. Unlike their humble ancestors, however, the dishes at the Blind Pig use simple preparations to highlight the strong, natural flavors of the ingredients.

“We pay a little more attention to the more traditional qualities of food,” Mr. Frase said, “instead of trying to do something new or inventive.”

And, indeed, “housemade” and “fresh” are two of the restaurant’s primary bywords. “The only thing in our freezer is ice cream,” our waiter told us joyfully during a recent visit, before explaining how best to sample the housemade bitters (including flavors like celery and coffee). The drinks menu highlighted classic cocktails like a French 75, but also featured a strong list of beers whose regions of origin are listed as well.

Before opening in March, Mr. Frase and Michael Grider, a co-owner, gutted the space. The floor joists found new life as tables, while the building’s original facade was rescued from the basement and the reclaimed wood was transformed into a bar. The art on the walls is by the assistant manager. This sense of place and pride — of craftsmanship and quality — is at the heart of the Blind Pig’s deceptive simplicity.

The most prominent medium for the attention-to-tradition philosophy is meat — more specifically, pork. Indeed, the (literally) strong of heart can eat an entire meal of it. Start with a smooth, dense ramekin of pork rillettes topped with a thick layer of duck fat; follow that up with a heaping portion of sausage, duck and white bean cassoulet; finish with a dessert of vanilla ice cream fritters and pecan-bacon brittle; and wash it all down with a bacon-infused Manhattan. (Is it possible to have a pork hangover?)

For the less piggishly inclined, the lamb-and-bison shepherd’s pie is well spiced and topped with a crisp layer of creamy mashed potatoes. The chicken bouillabaisse fell a little flat, its light flavor too delicate to compete with the hearty savoriness of the other dishes. But, then again, who orders chicken at a place called the Blind Pig?

The Blind Pig, 1076 East Washington Street, Louisville, Ky.; (502) 618-0600; theblindpiglouisville.com. An average meal for two, without drinks or tip, is about $60.