How I plan a Formula 1 weekend usually comes down to two things I refuse to treat as afterthoughts: the race and dinner. Getting both right takes a little more thought than putting a reservation underneath the race on a calendar.
This year, I am planning to reserve Tan Tan for race night. My understanding is that 7:30 is the latest reservation time they offer, so that is the time I am working toward—not a confirmed booking yet. But what happens if the circuit gives me a reason to stay longer?
Do you leave for the restaurant you have been looking forward to, or stay and accept that dinner might not happen?
That is the part of Formula 1 travel I find interesting. You can research the transport, choose the hotel carefully, and allow time to get ready. You still have to decide what matters when two experiences compete for the same evening. Sometimes a simple race trip gets out of control for a very good reason.
The race anchors the weekend. Everything else has to fit around the time it really takes to enjoy it.
The Plan Is Dinner at 7:30. The Moment May Never Happen Again.
Imagine this: Kimi Antonelli wins the world championship in Brazil. This is a hypothetical, not a prediction or a claim about the championship standings. You are there, the atmosphere changes, and you have the chance to stay for the celebrations. If officials permit spectators onto the track, you might be able to be part of that too.
Meanwhile, the Tan Tan reservation I am planning would be for 7:30. A restaurant booking and a championship celebration do not necessarily fit into the same evening, however much I want them to.
Now the decision is much bigger than whether the car gets back quickly enough. You are choosing between a meal you deliberately built into the trip and a moment you could not have booked at any price. Leaving might mean missing something extraordinary. Staying might mean giving up a restaurant you cannot simply visit tomorrow.
I do not think there is a neat answer that works for every race, every restaurant, or every person. That is why I want to ask the question before the weekend, rather than pretend the itinerary can guarantee both.
What am I actually giving up?
A dinner I can reasonably rebook is different from the one available table at a restaurant I have wanted to visit for years. Equally, lingering after an ordinary afternoon is different from being there when a driver wins a world championship. I would want to be honest about the specific experience on each side, not reduce it to “race versus food.”
Is dinner prepaid? Is there a cancellation fee, or someone waiting for me? A choice that feels right can still carry a real loss.
Stay in touch, rather than assume the table will wait
If I am running late, my plan is to stay in touch with Tan Tan, explain what is happening, and hope they can accommodate me. That would be a favor, not something I am entitled to. Before booking, I will check the actual arrival and cancellation terms; sending a message does not extend any grace period. I would still need to respect their booking terms and accept it if the table could no longer be held.
Spectators were permitted onto the track at Interlagos in 2025. That makes the possibility feel real to me, but it does not guarantee access this year. I would follow the event’s instructions and only enter if officials permit it.
What I would actually tell the restaurant
I would keep the message practical: I have a reservation, I am delayed leaving the circuit, and I want to know whether arriving later is still possible. If I have a realistic estimate, I can share it. If traffic is not moving, I would rather say that than promise an arrival time I cannot support.
Then I need to listen to the answer. They may have another seating, a full bar, or a kitchen that cannot accommodate the change. Keeping them informed is basic consideration; it is not a way to negotiate an unlimited hold on a table.
If they can still take me, I would confirm what we have agreed and keep them updated if that changes. If they cannot, I can thank them, deal with any applicable booking terms, and make another plan. The restaurant should not have to guess whether I am coming.
I am not making two dinner reservations just in case
If Tan Tan cannot accommodate me, I will have to figure it out. That might mean trying somewhere else and waiting for a table. It might mean changing the kind of dinner I had in mind altogether. A walk-in alternative is a possibility, not a guaranteed backup.
What I do not want to do is make a second reservation while keeping the first one, just so I have options. That ties up two tables when I only intend to use one. I would rather accept some uncertainty than make my evening easier at the expense of a restaurant or another diner.
The question is which choice I would regret more afterward. Not which one makes the original itinerary look successful. I can leave room for the answer to change when the moment actually arrives.
How I Plan a Formula 1 Weekend: Decide What Cannot Move
Before booking, I want to identify where that kind of choice could appear. What would I be genuinely disappointed to miss, and which two experiences might compete?
On a Grand Prix trip, the race is an obvious answer. But the restaurant that made me excited about the city might be another. I want to see whether those two priorities can coexist before I add the rest. If they cannot, I want to know that I am taking a risk. A famous cocktail bar, a neighborhood walk, and an interesting lunch can all be worthwhile without every one of them becoming a fixed commitment.
I would start by checking the official weekend schedule for the event I am attending, then looking at restaurant availability across the whole stay. I do not want to choose a dinner night simply because it is the first slot the booking page offers. I want to know what that slot would ask of the rest of the day.
I have written separately about choosing Formula 1 grandstand seats. Here, I am assuming the circuit experience matters enough to protect. I do not want the dinner plan quietly making that decision for me without acknowledging the tradeoff.
The Best Meal Deserves More Than the Only Empty Slot
My first instinct is often to add the restaurant. The more useful second question is whether I will actually enjoy it on that particular night.
A long tasting menu asks something of you. You want an appetite, some energy, and enough attention to notice what is happening. When a meal matters to me, I would rather give it a clear evening than arrive with half my attention still caught in the journey back from the track.
That is why I would consider a non-track evening for the hardest-to-get or most anticipated reservation. Depending on the trip, that could mean arriving earlier or staying longer. It only makes sense if the extra time and expense work; adding another hotel night to justify a dinner is exactly the kind of logic that explains this website.
Barcelona is a good example of why I care. Mont Bar was my favorite meal of that trip, even with some serious competition. I also went to Disfrutar. Those experiences deserve their own attention, rather than becoming accomplishments to tick off between race sessions.
In São Paulo, Evvai is my favorite restaurant in the world. That does not mean every night should be an Evvai-sized commitment. It means I want to protect the night that is. A more flexible dinner on another evening can help make the important one better.
Mont Bar: a meal I want time to enjoy, rather than another appointment to reach.
Evvai gives me a reason to leave a proper evening for dinner in São Paulo.
I am not saying a good restaurant cannot work after the race. I am saying that “available” and “a good fit for the day” are different questions. If the reservation only works when everything else runs perfectly, I would look for another night. If there is no other night, I need to decide whether the possibility of missing dinner is worth accepting.
Work Backward From Dinner, Without Planning Backward From Wishful Thinking
Once I have a possible reservation, I would work backward: restaurant arrival, travel from the hotel, time to get ready, the return from the circuit, and getting out of the venue in the first place. Every part belongs in the plan.
My own preference is about an hour at the hotel to get ready after the track. I want a shower, clean clothes, and enough time to feel like I am starting the evening rather than continuing the afternoon. That hour is easy to leave out when the calendar only shows the race and dinner.
The drive back is another piece that deserves honesty. A normal map estimate can be useful for understanding distance, but I would not treat it as a promise for the end of a Grand Prix. Walking out, reaching the pickup point, finding the driver, and joining the traffic all sit between the grandstand and the hotel.
Then there is the second journey, from the hotel to the restaurant. Staying somewhere that suits the city part of the trip can make that easier. I stayed at Sir Victor in Barcelona, and the hotel was part of the broader experience, not simply somewhere to sleep between track days.
A hotel belongs in the evening plan too, including time to get ready before going out.
The test is straightforward: after allowing for the parts I know I want, is there still a comfortable margin? If the only way to make the reservation is to erase the hotel reset or assume a frictionless departure, I need to recognize the risk. With a plan like Tan Tan, that means accepting I may need to call, wait, or find something else—not pretending a second reservation solves it.
São Paulo Made Me Take the Journey Back Seriously
After the 2025 São Paulo Grand Prix, traffic was at a standstill. That experience belongs in my planning much more than a hopeful estimate of how quickly the trip ought to take.
For that journey, I prefer the comfort of a prearranged Rhino ride and air conditioning over squeezing onto a packed subway. That is my preference, not a claim that a car is always faster or that everyone should make the same choice. Being comfortable while waiting and avoiding the wait are two different things.
I recommend Rhino based on my experience with its armored cars and professional drivers. I have also had good experiences with Uber Black in São Paulo. The important point for this post is that choosing a service I like does not give me permission to make an unrealistic dinner reservation.
I would check the pickup arrangements for the specific event, confirm where I need to meet the driver, and keep the restaurant plan realistic even after arranging the car. The detailed city and circuit advice belongs in my São Paulo Grand Prix travel guide; the lesson here is about what I book afterward.
Interlagos: leaving the circuit is part of the day, not an instant jump back into the city.
A restaurant cannot control the circuit exit, and the driver cannot make my preferred reservation time more sensible. That part is on me.
What a Realistic Race Day Would Look Like
I find a sequence more useful than a pretend-perfect timetable. This is a planning example, not a record of a particular day or a promise about how long an event will take.
Before the circuit: Keep the morning simple
I would leave room for breakfast and the journey without adding a destination brunch or a sightseeing stop that introduces another deadline. There will be plenty happening at the track. The morning does not need to prove that I am making the most of every minute.
At the circuit: Be there for the experience
I want to enjoy the racing without mentally leaving early for dinner. The time commitment includes getting in and out, not just the sessions themselves. I would also keep an eye on what I need for the conditions, rather than assume that feeling fine when I leave the hotel means I will feel the same later.
After the circuit: Get back, then reset
The departure comes first. Then the ride, the hotel, and time to get ready. This is the stretch I would leave deliberately loose. A delay here should use some margin, not immediately put a special dinner at risk.
For dinner: Choose an evening that can stand on its own
If the timing genuinely supports a reservation, great. Otherwise, I would choose a less demanding plan with realistic availability, checking hours and booking requirements rather than assuming somewhere will take me. Casual does not have to mean disappointing, and a shorter dinner does not have to be a consolation prize.
After dinner: Let the extra stop stay extra
A cocktail can be a great finish. It does not need to become compulsory. I love a good bar, but adding a second reservation simply because there is space on the screen can turn a satisfying day into a very long one.
What I Would Move—and What I Might Have to Give Up
When a plan feels crowded, removing an extra bar or a cross-town detour is easy compared with the 7:30 decision. Those smaller choices are still worth making. They leave more energy for the things I care about and fewer unnecessary deadlines.
But I do not want to pretend every conflict can be fixed by becoming more organized. Sometimes the restaurant has one opening. Sometimes the circuit gives you a reason to stay. Sometimes you have done the planning properly and still have to choose.
That is where checking booking terms, discussing the plan with anyone joining me, and knowing my alternatives helps. It does not make the decision for me. It makes the consequences clearer.
I would rather make a conscious choice and accept the cost than spend the whole evening resenting whichever experience I chose. There may be another visit. There may not be another version of that particular race day.
The Better Choice Depends on Why I Wanted Both Experiences
Before deciding to leave the circuit, I would ask what staying adds. Am I waiting around because I cannot quite bring myself to leave, or is something happening that makes the extra time meaningful? Those are different reasons, and I do not want the fear of missing out to make every decision.
I would ask the same question about dinner. Is this a meal I genuinely care about, or am I attached to the reservation because it took effort to get? Researching and booking something can make it feel more important than it will actually be. The point is to enjoy the evening, not protect the work I put into the calendar.
That still leaves room for choosing dinner. Leaving the circuit does not mean I care less about Formula 1. Staying does not mean I suddenly care less about restaurants. It means that on this particular day, with these particular choices, one experience mattered more.
If I am sharing the evening with someone, their expectations matter too. I would want that conversation before we reach the point of choosing. An itinerary is easier to change when everyone understands what was firm, what was hopeful, and what might depend on the race.
Leave Something of the City Unscheduled
I like researching trips. I like finding the place that makes the planning feel worthwhile. But I also want time to walk, look around, and follow an interesting street without checking whether I am now behind.
My Barcelona travel guide covers more of the city beyond the circuit. A race weekend can lead into that wider trip, but it needs some room to happen. Booking every lunch and evening in advance would leave very little space for the discoveries I enjoy most.
There should still be time to see the city that brought the whole trip together.
That is the balance I want from Formula 1 travel: enough planning to protect the race and the meals that matter, with enough freedom to enjoy the place around them. The reward for doing the work beforehand should be less clock-watching once I am there.
The weekend can still get a little out of control. If it does, I want to know the difference between a bad plan and a moment worth changing a good plan for.
Sushi by Sea Review: Sushi by Sea in Ridgefield, New Jersey, gave me the kind of dinner where I kept thinking the next bite could not possibly be better. Then it was. The fish was high quality throughout, and the eel belongs among the best I have ever eaten. By the end of the evening, my wife also had an invitation to feijoada.
A look at the fish on display during my October 2026 dinner at Sushi by Sea.
That is a pretty good Saturday night.
We visited on October 17, 2026. Dinner was $225 per person, and we brought Dassai sake. We are already planning to go back with my sister. There is plenty to explain between those facts, including a connection to Maido in Lima and a conversation in Portuguese that continued throughout the night.
Sushi by Sea at a Glance
Location: Ridgefield, New Jersey
Experience: Omakase at the chef’s counter
Booking: By invitation or referral; I reached out to arrange our reservation
Our visit: October 17, 2026
Dinner price: $225 per person at our visit
BYOB: I brought one bottle each of Dassai Blue Type 23, Type 50 Nama and Type 50 Nigori.
Highlights: Slow-baked eel, seared miso salmon and uni milk bread
Going back: Yes, we are planning a return with my sister
A Private Omakase Counter in Ridgefield
The counter beneath the neon welcome motto.
Sushi by Sea is a speakeasy-style omakase experience in Ridgefield, New Jersey, built around a 12-seat chef’s counter. Reservations are invitation- or referral-based, and I had to reach out to arrange ours. The address and a secret password are shared before your visit, which adds to the feeling that you’re being let in on something. Dinner lasts roughly two hours, with the chef working directly across from you. You can find more about the experience on the official Sushi by Sea website.
The format gives the people across the counter an important part in the evening. You are spending time with the chef while the meal unfolds. In our case, that brought together excellent fish and a conversation that connected New Jersey to São Paulo and Lima.
The restaurant grew out of pandemic-era pop-ups. Boozy Burbs reported its permanent opening in October 2022, describing an approach built around the chef’s Korean, Brazilian and Japanese experiences and the owner’s South African hospitality. That background makes the mix of influences easier to understand. The personal connection we found at the counter gave it meaning beyond a description on a website.
High Quality Fish From One Bite to the Next
Oyster with chive parsley oil and yuzu soy.
Fluke with shiso and Himalayan salt.
Akami with salted, cured orange peel washed in vodka.
Madai with garlic-scallion soy.
Hamachi with yuzu marmalade.
Seared miso salmon smoked in Japanese applewood.
Japanese mackerel with savory kimchi chili sauce.
Hokkaido scallop with lava salt and lime.
Mini ikura bento box.
Chutoro with caviar.
Black miso cod and foam.
Uni milk bread with truffle.
Charcoal-seared otoro.
Slow-baked eel with cacao and matcha lime.
Every bite seemed better than the one before it. That was my reaction throughout dinner. The fish was excellent, but so much of what made the meal memorable came down to how Chef C handled it. Dry-aging is part of his approach, along with curing, smoking, searing and carefully chosen accompaniments. The preparations gave each course its own character while keeping the fish at the center of the experience.
The cuts were generous, too, noticeably larger than the fish on an average piece of nigiri. I appreciated that. You had enough of each fish to really enjoy its texture and flavor, with the rice and accompaniments bringing it all together.
We began with an oyster with chive parsley oil and yuzu soy. It was a great opening bite. My only complaint? There was only one. I could happily have eaten a few more before moving on to the fluke with shiso and Himalayan salt.
The akami came with salted, cured orange peel washed in vodka. Madai followed with garlic-scallion soy, then hamachi with yuzu marmalade. The accompaniments changed from one fish to the next, giving me something different to pay attention to with every course.
Then came the seared miso salmon smoked in Japanese applewood. I don’t even like salmon, and this was the best salmon sushi I’ve ever had. That deserves some emphasis. A fish I generally wouldn’t choose became one of the highlights of the evening. It’s the kind of course that makes you reconsider what you think you don’t like.
Japanese mackerel with savory kimchi chili sauce followed, then Hokkaido scallop with lava salt and lime. The mini ikura bento box came next, followed by chutoro with caviar and black miso cod with foam. By this point, I kept wondering what would arrive next and whether it could live up to the last bite.
The uni milk bread with truffle gave my wife her own surprise. She doesn’t normally like uni, so after taking a bite, she went to hand it over to me. I asked, “Are you sure?” She quickly took it back. “No, I like this one,” she said, and ate it herself. So much for my extra bite. Between her keeping the uni and me loving the salmon, Chef C had won us both over with ingredients we usually wouldn’t choose.
Close-up of truffle being grated over uni milk bread on patterned oval plates.
Otoro is my favorite sushi, so I was especially looking forward to that course. Chef C finished it with charcoal, and watching him work added to the anticipation. This is part of why I love sitting at a counter: you get to see the attention behind the bite you’re about to eat.
Then came the slow-baked eel with cacao and matcha lime. It was amazing. There was none of the fishy taste I sometimes associate with eel. The flavor was clean, and the preparation let me enjoy everything I love about it. I can’t isolate which technique made the difference, but I could absolutely taste the result.
It belongs among the best eel I’ve ever had. The other meal that comes to mind is Maido in Lima, where I had eel with tuna belly. That’s the company this course is keeping in my memory.
What stayed with me was how much thought went into each preparation. The generous cuts, the different techniques and the accompaniments all contributed to the meal. I wasn’t just enjoying my favorite fish. I was enjoying fish I usually wouldn’t order, and my wife was doing the same. That says more about the dinner than a list of expensive ingredients ever could.
A chef finishes otoro with a tong-held piece of charcoal as wisps of smoke rise.
The Work Behind the Counter
A chef directs two flames at a row of salmon nigiri
There is useful context behind that impression of quality. In a May 2025 interview with New Jersey Digest, co-owner Jay Powles discussed sourcing fish directly from Japan and dry-aging fish in-house. That interview offers background on the kitchen’s approach.
Sushi by Sea also gives rice a central place in its own explanation of the food. On its website, the restaurant identifies rice as fundamental to what it does. It is an important reminder when so much attention naturally goes to the fish.
A chef lifts the dome, releasing smoke over the seared miso salmon.
Eel That Brought Maido to Mind
The slow-baked eel with cacao and matcha lime deserves its own section. It was among the best I have ever had, with the other immediate comparison being the eel I ate with tuna belly at Maido in Lima.
I could go back and forth over which one takes first place. Putting Sushi by Sea in that company is already a serious compliment. The Maido dish remains one of those bites I can use as a point of comparison long after the trip is over.
There was another connection. While we were sitting at the counter, Chef C told us he had worked at Maido in Lima for about six months. Hearing that gave us something very specific to talk about beyond the food directly in front of us.
It also made the comparison more interesting. I am describing two eel dishes that impressed me enormously, with a chef connecting the restaurants through his own experience. I do not need to settle the ranking to know that Sushi by Sea’s eel is going to stay in my memory.
Chef C and a São Paulo Connection
Chef C is from São Paulo. The restaurant identifies Chef Cris as its head chef and co-owner. The 2022 opening report also lists experience at Masa, Neta, Shuko, Sushi Agari and Torien. Those names provide some context for the experience he brings to the counter. The Maido detail came directly from our conversation with him, which made it particularly interesting given my own meal there.
For us, his São Paulo connection became especially personal because he spoke Portuguese with my wife throughout the night. The conversation continued as we ate, and it became one of the things I remembered most clearly afterward.
Knife work at the counter during the meal.
São Paulo is a city I return to often. It is also home to Evvai, my favorite restaurant in the world. Finding that connection during an omakase dinner in New Jersey brought a familiar part of our lives into the evening.
Chef C even invited my wife to feijoada, a Brazilian stew, and we plan to go. That is a wonderful detail to come away with after dinner. We went to eat sushi and ended up talking about another meal altogether. Their motto is “Arrive as strangers, leave as friends.” After that invitation, it made perfect sense to me.
It is the kind of interaction that makes the chef’s counter feel like the right place for this meal. We had time to talk while enjoying the food. The Portuguese conversation and the feijoada invitation are details I will remember when thinking about the evening.
Salmon nigiri being arranged before the searing and smoking sequence.
BYOB With Three Bottles of Dassai
Sushi by Sea is BYOB, and I brought three different bottles for our dinner: Dassai Blue Type 23, Dassai Blue Type 50 Nama and Dassai Blue Type 50 Nigori. One bottle of each.
That’s one of the things I appreciate about BYOB. You can bring the sake, wine or beer you want to drink instead of choosing only from a restaurant’s selection. You have more control over both the bottles and what you spend on them.
Living close to Dassai Blue has taught me a lot about sake, and I’ve become more confident choosing it to accompany sushi. I’m still learning, but that’s part of the enjoyment. Thinking about what to drink adds another layer to planning a meal like this.
Before you go, spend a little time researching wine or sake pairings for sushi. Think about the range of flavors you might encounter throughout an omakase, and ask questions when choosing your bottles. You don’t need to become an expert to put some thought into what you bring.
For our evening, the $225 per-person dinner price and the bottles were separate expenses. BYOB gave me the freedom to make those choices myself, and I liked being able to bring something I’d taken an interest in learning about.
Chutoro with caviar lined up before individual plating.
Black miso cod and foam being prepared at the counter.
Ice Cream Without the Photograph
I didn’t get a picture of the ice cream, but it was great too. After so much good fish, dessert gave us one more reason to leave happy.
I also like that Sushi by Sea works with local bakeries, bakers and pastry chefs to showcase their desserts. It gives other people’s work a place in the experience and gives me another reason to be curious about what might arrive on a future visit.
Chef C told us his wife is a retired pastry chef, which made me wonder whether she has a hand in the desserts. I didn’t ask, so that’s a question for next time. What I can say is that the sweet finish deserved its place in the meal, even if I missed the photograph.
The Price and Planning Your Visit
Our dinner was $225 per person, before any additional charges. For current pricing and booking terms, check directly with Sushi by Sea.
If you’re planning a weekend dinner, Friday and Saturday offer two seatings: 6:00 PM and 8:30 PM. Wednesday and Thursday have a 7:30 PM seating, while Sunday dinner starts at 6:00 PM. The restaurant is closed on Mondays and Tuesdays. Each experience lasts roughly two hours, so choose a time that lets you settle in and enjoy it.
Reservations open up to three weeks ahead. Let the restaurant know about dietary requests at least 72 hours before your seating, and read the cancellation terms carefully. Cancellations, changes or no-shows within 72 hours incur the full seating fee per guest plus processing fees. Check the official reservation information for the latest schedule and policies, and follow the arrival instructions in your confirmation.
At this price, returning is a considered choice. For me, the strongest answer is that we’re planning another dinner with my sister. I enjoyed the experience enough to want to share it with someone else.
My Take on Sushi by Sea
My only regret is that I didn’t make more of an effort to go two years ago, when I first heard about Sushi by Sea. After finally getting there, I know I waited too long.
I’ve been to about eight omakase experiences over the last three years, and this ranks at the top for me. It was worth every penny. The quality of the fish, the care behind each preparation and the people across the counter made it an evening I want to experience again.
Some of the connections made it even more memorable. An eel course in New Jersey brought back one of my favorite bites at Maido in Lima. A chef from São Paulo spent the evening speaking Portuguese with my wife. We left planning a return with my sister and looking forward to feijoada. That’s a lot to take home from one dinner.
Sushi by Sea is going into my regular restaurant rotation, and I’m going to make a point of returning when the menu changes. I want to see what Chef C does next and share the experience with my sister. I also missed the co-owner that evening, so there’s still a Formula 1 conversation to look forward to. Great sushi and some F1 talk would suit me very well.
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I used to think choosing Formula 1 grandstand seats was mostly about finding a section with a good view of the track. Then I started attending races.
My first Formula 1 trip was the Canadian Grand Prix, where wet weather made covered seating and access to an indoor hospitality dining area much more valuable than I understood when the weekend started. At Interlagos, I got soaked and learned how quickly São Paulo weather can change. In Barcelona, I learned the opposite lesson when my seats spent race day directly in the sun.
All three were great Formula 1 experiences. I would happily go back to every one of them. But they changed the questions I ask before spending money: Can I see the racing and a screen? Will I be comfortable for hours? How difficult is the walk? What happens when I want food, shelter or a ride back to the hotel?
Most importantly, after spending an entire Formula 1 weekend there, would I pay for that seat again?
This guide is based on what I learned in Canada, Brazil and Spain. There is no single perfect grandstand at every circuit. The right choice depends on what you want to watch, how you like to spend the day and what you want to do with the rest of the trip.
1. A Great View Is Only the Beginning
The first thing most of us look at is the circuit map. That makes sense. If I am paying for Grand Prix seating, I want to see something worthwhile. But I have learned that the words “good view” can mean very different things. A seat might give you a perfect look at one corner but almost nothing else. Another grandstand might sit farther away from the action but allow you to see several parts of the circuit. I increasingly prefer the second type.
I want to be able to follow cars for more than a few seconds. Elevation matters too. Being higher in a grandstand can sometimes open up an entirely different view of the circuit. You may be able to see over barriers, fencing and the people in front of you while also following cars through multiple corners. That does not mean higher is always better. If you are too far away, you can lose some of the feeling of speed and proximity that makes seeing Formula 1 in person so impressive.
The goal is balance. When I look at Formula 1 grandstand seats now, I am asking what I can actually watch from that location, not simply whether the grandstand appears close to the track on a map.
2. At Interlagos, I Learned to Respect the Weather
My first São Paulo Grand Prix taught me something very quickly: A roof can be worth a lot. São Paulo weather can be strange. It does not rain every Grand Prix weekend, and I would never tell someone that rain is guaranteed. But I have personally watched the weather go from looking completely fine to a serious downpour. At Interlagos, I got soaked. And I mean soaked. Some of my favorite Formula 1 memories came out of that experience.
I was in Sector G, surrounded by fans, drinking beer and canned Jack and Coke, talking with people I had never met before and trying to find whatever shelter was available. People made room for me when the rain came down. That weekend became part of why I fell in love with the atmosphere at Interlagos. But it also taught me something practical. If I am choosing Interlagos grandstands again, I am looking very seriously at whether the section is covered.
Getting caught in the rain once can become a great story. Spending an entire weekend wet because I ignored the possibility is something different. That is the type of lesson you do not always get from looking at a circuit map. Weather protection is now one of the first things I consider when comparing Formula 1 grandstand seats. I wrote more about what Interlagos means to me in Why I Love Formula 1: Racing, Travel & Belonging.
What changed between my Interlagos visits
In 2024, Sector G meant uncovered cement seating and the kind of rain that makes you rethink your packing. In 2025, I sat in Sector N: covered metal stadium seating, a view toward the Senna S and back straight, and a nearby television screen. Those are descriptions of my visits, not a guarantee that every row or future ticket offers the same sightline or weather protection.
I still value the energy in G. N helped me appreciate what a different seat and a roof can do for the same race weekend. For my upcoming 2026 visit, I have chosen R, but I have not experienced that section yet. I will judge it after I have actually sat there.
The view across Interlagos during my 2024 São Paulo Grand Prix weekend.
A spectator’s view toward the Senna S at Interlagos.
3. Canada Taught Me That Shelter Can Change the Weekend
My first Formula 1 trip was the Canadian Grand Prix. That weekend gave me an early lesson about weather and why experienced racegoers sometimes choose tickets very differently from first-time fans. Montréal can be wet and unpredictable during Grand Prix weekend, and I learned that the hard way. The difference was that I was traveling with people who had been there before. They knew what to expect. They had already secured covered ticketed seating along with access to a hospitality dining area.
The dining area did not have a track view, so this was not the same thing as sitting in a luxury suite overlooking the circuit. But that was not really the point. It gave us somewhere covered to get out of the weather, sit down, eat and reset during a long day at the track. That experience taught me something I still think about now. Formula 1 hospitality does not always have to be about the best view or the most exclusive access. Sometimes the value is much simpler.
A dry place to sit. A proper meal. Somewhere to warm up. Somewhere to get out of the rain. And then you go back to your seat when the track action starts again. I did not fully appreciate how valuable that was until the weather turned. Now, when I compare Formula 1 grandstand seats, I also want to know whether the ticket gives me somewhere to escape bad conditions. A covered grandstand helps. Access to an indoor dining or hospitality area can help even more.
That Canadian Grand Prix experience taught me that the best Formula 1 tickets are not always just about what you can see from your seat. Sometimes they are about how well the entire day works around it.
4. Barcelona Taught Me to Think About the Sun
Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya gave me the opposite lesson. Instead of worrying about rain, I spent race day sitting directly in the sun. That matters more than it sounds. A Formula 1 race is not a two-hour event when you are attending in person. You are at the circuit long before the race begins. There may be support races, driver parades, track activity and plenty of time simply sitting in the grandstand. Then the race starts.
If your seat is exposed to direct sun for most of that time, you feel it. I still enjoyed the weekend. The Barcelona Grand Prix grandstands gave me a good view, and I loved being at the circuit. But now, when I look at Formula 1 grandstand seats, I also think about where the sun is going to be. Is the grandstand covered? Will part of it be shaded? What direction does it face? Will I be sitting in direct sunlight for hours?
Those questions are not as exciting as asking whether you can see an overtake. They become much more important around hour four.
5. I Want a Screen I Can Actually See
This has become one of my biggest F1 seating tips. Formula 1 is difficult to follow when you can only see one small part of the circuit. At home, television gives you timing screens, replays, radio messages and cameras covering the entire track. At the circuit, cars disappear from your view. That is why I want a large screen somewhere I can comfortably see from my seat. I do not want to spend the race trying to understand why everyone around me suddenly started cheering.
A good screen lets me follow the battle happening somewhere else on the circuit, see replays of incidents and understand what is actually happening strategically. For me, a slightly less spectacular track view with a clear screen can be better than a supposedly premium view where I cannot follow the race. For me, the best Formula 1 grandstand seats combine a worthwhile track view with a screen I can actually follow. When researching Grand Prix tickets, I now look at photographs and videos taken from the actual grandstand.
I want to see the screen from approximately where I might sit. Circuit maps do not always tell that story.
6. Not Every Fast Section Is a Great Place to Watch
Seeing a Formula 1 car at full speed is incredible. The speed does not fully translate through television. But there is a difference between seeing that speed and watching a race develop. If cars simply blast past your grandstand in a straight line, the first few laps can be spectacular. After that, you may start wishing you could see more. Braking zones tend to interest me more.
Corners where drivers can attack, defend, make mistakes or attempt an overtake give you a reason to keep watching that part of the track. A technical sequence can also be interesting because you can see differences in how drivers approach the same corners. That is why I look beyond the grandstand name. I want to know what actually happens there. A cheaper grandstand overlooking an interesting braking zone may give me a better weekend than a more expensive seat beside a section where very little happens.
That is another reason I do not assume the most expensive seats are automatically the best Formula 1 grandstands.
The Barcelona circuit main straight, pit building and garages viewed across the safety fence from a grandstand.
The safety fence is part of the view from the stands.
7. Access to the Grandstand Matters More Than I Expected
This is one of those things that becomes obvious after attending several races. Getting to the circuit is only part of the journey. You still have to get to your actual section. At some tracks, that can involve a lot of walking. In Barcelona, I walked more than twelve miles on each of my race days between getting to the circuit and moving around once I was there. I do not mind walking. I actually enjoy exploring a circuit. But I still want to know what I am getting into.
How far is the entrance from the grandstand? Are there steep hills? How crowded does that route become after qualifying or the race? Where are the bathrooms? Where can I get food or a drink? Is there somewhere nearby to get out of the sun or rain? These are not glamorous questions. They can make a major difference in how much you enjoy three days at a circuit. A Formula 1 race weekend is already long.
I do not need to make it unnecessarily harder because I picked a grandstand without understanding where it actually is. That is why researching Formula 1 grandstand seats has become about much more than the view.
Queues and the ride home belong in the decision
At Interlagos in 2024, I waited roughly 20 minutes when I arrived around 10 a.m. on Saturday. With my Sector N entry in 2025, arriving around 9:30–10 a.m. on Friday and Saturday meant only a few people ahead of me; Sunday’s line also moved quickly. N had its own entry and separate concessions and facilities. That was my experience on those days, not a forecast for your queue.
Leaving deserves just as much thought. São Paulo traffic was bumper-to-bumper after the race in 2025. I personally prefer a professional driver and air-conditioning to a crowded train, but a car does not make the traffic disappear. I want to understand the walk to the pickup point, where a driver can actually meet me and how much flexibility I need before dinner.
The seat matters. So does the ride home.
8. How Much of the Circuit Can You Actually Explore?
Barcelona taught me to look at something else when choosing Formula 1 grandstand seats: how much freedom the ticket gives me once I am inside the circuit. Barcelona was great for this. I was able to walk around much of the circuit and experience the weekend from places beyond my own grandstand. I still had my assigned seat, but I did not feel like I was confined to one small part of the track all day. That made the entire weekend better.
I could walk, explore different areas, see the circuit from different perspectives and then return to my seat when I wanted to. Interlagos has been much more restrictive in my experience. Your ticket determines the sector you can access, and you generally remain within that section of the circuit. I love Sector G and the atmosphere there, but the experience is different when you cannot simply decide to walk around the entire track and see what another section looks like.
That is something I would now research before buying Formula 1 tickets at a circuit I have never visited. Can I move around the circuit, or does my ticket effectively keep me in one zone all weekend? There was another part of Barcelona that I really appreciated: I was able to leave the circuit and come back in. That gave me more options during a long race day. Outside the circuit, there was a grill serving chicken, pork, other meats and additional food, along with a full bar and sangria.
Being able to step outside, get something substantial to eat and have a drink, then return to the circuit made the day feel much less restrictive. It was not hospitality. It did not need to be. It was simply a good place to sit down, eat some grilled food, have a sangria and take a break before going back inside. Those details matter to me now. When I compare Formula 1 grandstand seats, I am no longer looking only at what happens when I am physically sitting in the seat.
I want to know what the entire day looks like around it. Can I explore? Can I leave and return? What food is available nearby? Is there somewhere to sit away from the grandstand? Can I get a proper meal rather than spending three days eating whatever happens to be closest to my section? Barcelona gave me much more freedom in that respect.
Interlagos gives me an atmosphere I absolutely love, but the sector-based access means I have to think more carefully about which grandstand I choose because that section becomes a much larger part of my entire weekend. The freedom that comes with Formula 1 grandstand seats can vary dramatically from one circuit to another. That is another reason the cheapest or most expensive ticket does not automatically tell you which one is best.
Check the rule for your actual ticket: My Barcelona re-entry and freedom to explore describe what I experienced on that visit. Do not assume that another event, package or year has the same policy. Confirm permitted areas, any scan-out procedure and same-day re-entry with the circuit before leaving. Start with the official Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya website and the terms supplied with your booking.
9. Grandstands Are Not a Compromise for Me
I have done hospitality and paddock experiences. I enjoy them. The access can be incredible. The food and drinks are generally better. Having somewhere comfortable to sit, cool down and get away from the crowds has obvious value. I would happily do those experiences again. But lately, I have become much more selective about whether the upgrade makes sense.
If spending thousands more on hospitality means giving up several great dinners, a better hotel, extra days in the city or another trip altogether, I have to think about what I value more. And I genuinely enjoy the grandstands. There is something different about being surrounded by thousands of fans reacting to the race together. Different teams. Different drivers. Different countries. Same sport. When an overtake happens, someone crashes, the weather suddenly changes or a favorite driver comes past, the reaction around you becomes part of the experience.
That is difficult to reproduce in a lounge. I no longer look at Formula 1 grandstand seats as the option you choose when you do not buy hospitality. Sometimes they are exactly where I want to be.
Separate the grandstand ticket from the extras
My 2025 São Paulo F1 Experiences Thursday event is a good example. There was food and drink at trucks and stands, a lap of the circuit on a truck and a trophy-photo opportunity. Kym Illman took my trophy photo, which was a highlight for me as a fan of his work. I enjoyed that evening, but I do not need to repeat every extra every year.
Those were my 2025 inclusions. A standard grandstand ticket should not be assumed to include them, and neither should a differently named package. When comparing official F1 Experiences São Paulo packages, read the exact days, seating, activities, food and drink, and transfer details for the option you are buying. A pit-lane walk, track tour, paddock tour and hospitality access are different things.
10. The Question I Ask Now: Would I Sit There Again?
The question I want to answer after every race is straightforward: would I spend my own money to sit there again? A grandstand’s price, reputation or popularity on social media cannot answer that for me.
I think about the track view, the screen, weather protection, the crowd, walking, bathrooms and food. I think about how easy it was to get in and out, where I was allowed to explore and whether there was somewhere to escape bad weather. Then I ask whether the racing I could see justified the price.
Canada taught me how much I value covered seating and somewhere indoors to reset. Interlagos taught me to take rain seriously and showed me how much the crowd can become part of the weekend. Barcelona taught me to think about the sun, but also how much I enjoy exploring a circuit and having options outside my assigned seat.
All three made choosing Formula 1 grandstand seats more complicated than looking at a circuit map, and much more personal. That is the kind of useful detail I want to keep adding to RJVIPGP after every race I attend.
How I Would Choose Formula 1 Grandstand Seats Today
If I were buying tickets for a new circuit tomorrow, I would start with the part of the track I want to see. Then I would research the actual grandstand rather than relying on a map or a premium-sounding name.
Look at the real view. Find recent spectator photographs and videos from the section and, where possible, the row. Notice fencing, support posts, distance and how long the cars stay in sight.
Find the screen. Check its angle and readability from your likely seat. Nearby is not always the same as usable.
Plan for the conditions. Research the direction of the sun, roof coverage and rain exposure. Comfortable shoes and appropriate layers matter over a long weekend.
Understand the seat. Confirm reserved or unreserved allocation, the seating surface, stairs and any accessibility arrangements you need directly with the organizer.
Map the whole day. Locate your entrance, food, bathrooms, shelter, transport stop and pickup area. Ask whether your ticket permits other sectors or same-day re-entry.
Read the inclusions. Check the exact dates and what is separately ticketed. Do not assume Thursday activities, a track walk, hospitality or transfers come with a grandstand seat.
Compare the total trip. Decide what an upgrade would add and what else that money could pay for: a hotel you prefer, several dinners, more days in the city or another trip.
The most expensive Formula 1 tickets will sometimes make sense for me, and sometimes they will not. The same applies to hotels and restaurants. A famous name or a higher price does not automatically make something the right choice for the trip.
If you are planning your first Grand Prix, spend a little more time researching the seat than you think you need to. You will spend a lot of hours in it. Make sure it is somewhere you actually want to be.
Plan the Rest of Your Formula 1 Trip
A good race seat is one part of a weekend I want to enjoy. The hotel, transport and time for the city’s restaurants matter too. These guides explain how I put those pieces together.
Have a grandstand you would book again, or one you would avoid next time? Send me a message on Instagram. I am always interested in what made the difference: the racing, the crowd, the shelter or something nobody mentioned before you arrived.
Formula 1 luxury travel started with an interest in racing and turned into a reason to explore whole cities. Working at Ferrari got me interested in Formula 1. Traveling for races turned that interest into something much bigger. Now, booking a Grand Prix means a lot more than choosing a flight and buying a ticket. I am researching restaurants, comparing hotels, figuring out which cocktail bars I can fit in, and deciding how many extra days I can justify taking off work. Usually, I can justify a few.
Formula 1 luxury travel brings together most of the things I enjoy: racing, food, cocktails, hotels, and getting to know a city well enough that I want to come back.
The race still matters. I care who wins. But when I look back on these trips, I remember much more than what happened on Sunday. I remember the meal I am still talking about months later. The bartender who took the time to explain a drink. The hotel that became part of the experience. The people sitting around me at the circuit.
I collect watches, sneakers, T-shirts, and hats. I still enjoy all of them. But experiences have become my favorite thing to collect. The way I think about spending money has changed because of that. I still buy things, but now I find myself asking how much I want something compared with another trip, another dinner, or another few days somewhere I love. Travel has become a much bigger part of what I work for and what I look forward to.
I also have a full-time job and a limited amount of time away from it. When I take a race trip, I want those days to count. That means thinking about where the money goes, what is actually worth paying for, and how much I can realistically fit into a week without turning a vacation into another job.
Formula 1 gives me the reason to book the trip. Everything around it is what turns that trip into something I remember.
If you want to understand where that really started for me, read The Trip That Changed Everything. My first São Paulo Grand Prix ended up changing much more than where I wanted to watch Formula 1.
1. It Gives Me a Reason to Go Somewhere—and Go Back
São Paulo helped renew my love of gastronomy. The city introduced me to restaurants that are now among my favorites anywhere in the world, and it quickly became somewhere I wanted to keep returning to. I have written much more about the city in my São Paulo restaurant guide and my São Paulo destination coverage.
Barcelona taught me something different. It made me think more about the history behind the food and wine I was enjoying. You can sit down to dinner and have hundreds of years of tradition behind what ends up on the table. Then you walk outside and find yourself surrounded by buildings and neighborhoods that existed centuries before the United States was even a country. That puts things in perspective.
I have always appreciated a great meal and a good glass of wine. Barcelona made me appreciate how much more there can be behind both—the people, the traditions, the history, and the culture that helped create them.
That is one of the biggest reasons I like returning to places instead of treating every trip as a checklist. The second visit is different. There is less pressure to see everything. I can go back to a restaurant I already love, try somewhere new, spend more time in a neighborhood that interested me the first time, or simply leave part of the day open. Having favorites gives me a starting point without making me feel like I have finished exploring the city.
I already have restaurants and places I am excited to return to, but I do not feel remotely finished with the city. Every trip becomes a decision between going back to somewhere I already know I love and making room for somewhere new.
It is a good problem to have. My restaurant list just has very little respect for the number of days I actually have available.
That is what Formula 1 luxury travel has become for me. The race gets me to the city, but everything I discover around it gives me a reason to return.
2. The Food Can Be as Memorable as the Race
At Evvai, the food is only part of the experience. The illustrated course cards helped connect each dish to the story behind it.
A course at Mont Bar, one of the Barcelona reservations I made room for.
Pasta at Nelita’s dining counter.
I take restaurant reservations seriously. Anyone who has traveled with me—or looked at one of my itineraries—can probably figure that out.
In Barcelona, Mont Bar became one of my favorite meals anywhere, while Disfrutar was a completely different kind of experience. I would not really compare the two directly. Mont Bar felt more relaxed, intimate and personal. Disfrutar was more theatrical, technical and built around a much longer progression of courses. Both stood out for very different reasons.
In São Paulo, Evvai remains my favorite restaurant in the world. D.O.M., Tuju, A Casa do Porco and Tan Tan have all been part of the reason I keep wanting to explore more of the city’s food. These meals become things I look forward to for months.
A meal that changes your mind
I want to see what a chef is doing, try ingredients I might never order on my own, and understand why a dish works. Sometimes the kitchen puts something in front of me that I would have skipped on a menu, and it ends up being one of the best things I eat all trip.
Evvai managed that with its take on feijoada. I do not generally like beans, yet I loved that dish. That is a pretty convincing argument for occasionally letting someone who knows what they are doing choose dinner.
The explanation matters, too. Evvai’s pop-art course cards gave me something to connect with as the dishes arrived and something to take home afterward. I enjoy knowing what inspired a preparation and why the ingredients belong together. It makes me pay closer attention to what I am eating.
Mont Bar also showed me how much the people and the room contribute to dinner. The team took time to talk with us, the music helped give the place personality, and the service felt comfortable. It was ambitious food without the experience ever feeling stiff.
Returning favorites and the next reservation
For my upcoming November 2026 trip to São Paulo, I am planning a little of both: returning to places I already know I love and making room for somewhere new. I am going back to Evvai and Tan Tan, and I want to try Goya Zushi and Jacó.
If I can make the timing work, I also want to get back to A Casa do Porco. That may even end up being lunch before my flight home, which would be a pretty good way to finish the trip.
I also plan to spend another evening at Rosewood São Paulo, even though I am staying elsewhere for this trip. Taraz and Rabo di Galo are both places I enjoyed enough to want to return to, and Rosewood has become one of those hotels where I am happy to spend an evening even when I am not staying there.
I may also make my way back to Palácio Tangará during Grand Prix week.
On my previous visits during Grand Prix week, the security presence at Palácio Tangará was noticeable. Race-week access is something I would confirm with the hotel before making plans. If I book dinner there, I will confirm the reservation, arrival instructions and any restrictions directly. A restaurant reservation should never be treated as a promise of access to teams, drivers or private areas.
That gives me another excuse to go back, have dinner or a drink, enjoy the hotel, and take in some of the atmosphere surrounding race week.
The race is obviously the center of the trip, but Formula 1 spills into the hotels, restaurants, bars, and the rest of the city. You start noticing teams, sponsors, and fans everywhere, and places that are already interesting take on a completely different energy for the week.
A famous restaurant name may get me researching, but the full experience is what makes me want another reservation: the cooking, the drinks, the room, the people, and the feeling of being somewhere I know I will think about again after I get home.
For me, food is a major part of Formula 1 luxury travel. A Grand Prix weekend might start with the race schedule, but some of the restaurant reservations become experiences I anticipate just as much.
3. The Hotel Has to Earn Its Place in the Trip
Sir Victor was my base in Barcelona during the Grand Prix trip.
Hotel Unique remains my overall São Paulo Grand Prix hotel pick, with the rooftop and race-week atmosphere playing a big part in that choice.
W São Paulo: I have visited the bar; the full hotel stay is planned for November 2026.
I enjoy a great hotel, but I also want it to make sense for the trip I am actually taking. São Paulo is a good example because I have stayed at several of the city’s top hotels, and they each offer something different.
For a Formula 1 weekend, Hotel Unique is still my best overall pick. It has the atmosphere, the rooftop, the crowd, and the energy that fit the São Paulo Grand Prix weekend especially well.
I have also been looking at Posh Club Grand Prix parties for my November 2026 trip. Before building an evening around one, I would check the organizer’s current venue, dates, ticket requirements and hotel access rules before booking.
A future stay is not a finished review
For my upcoming November 2026 trip, though, I decided to stay at W São Paulo. Part of the reason is the rooftop.
I like having somewhere at the hotel where I can come back after a long day, have a drink, and still feel like the night is not over. But I also want to experience the W as a complete hotel and get to know it better.
I have spent enough time comparing São Paulo hotels that sometimes the only real way to understand one is to stay there and see how it fits into the trip.
That does not mean I think the W is the most luxurious hotel in São Paulo. If we are talking about pure luxury, Rosewood São Paulo is on another level. The rooms, design, and overall experience make it one of the most impressive hotels I have stayed at in the city.
Palácio Tangará belongs in that conversation as well. It offers a very different kind of luxury—quieter, more traditional, and removed from some of the energy of the city center.
And then there is Emiliano, which is still on my list. I have not stayed there yet, so I am not going to pretend I can rank it against hotels I have actually experienced. But based on its reputation and location, it is one I want to get to know for myself.
The most luxurious hotel is not automatically the best hotel for every trip.
That is especially true with Formula 1 luxury travel, where the right hotel can become part of the race-week experience rather than simply somewhere to sleep.
A beautiful room matters. So do the service, the crowd, the bars, the location, and what happens when I come back at the end of the night. That is what I am really paying for.
4. There Is Usually a Cocktail Worth Finding
A few liters of water, a couple of drinks and some time on the rooftop became part of my Barcelona routine.
The rooftop at Sir Victor became my go-to place after long days exploring Barcelona.
Sometimes the right cocktail stop is simply the hotel bar—somewhere to sit down, have a drink and relax after a long day.
My research rarely ends with the restaurant. Cocktail bars become part of the trip too, but I do not choose every bar because it appears on a World’s 50 Best list or because someone considers it a temple of mixology. Sometimes I want that experience. Sometimes I just want a good drink and somewhere comfortable to sit down.
In São Paulo, Tan Tan is one of the places I keep going back to. I like that it works as both a restaurant and a serious cocktail bar. The Tsukemono I enjoyed was a good example: tequila, wasabi, cucumber and orange bitters may not sound like an obvious combination, but it worked for me. That is a memory of the drink I had, rather than a promise about the current menu.
The Liquor Store gave me something completely different. On my visit, it felt like a very small, intimate bar, and that changed the experience. The bartenders can spend more time talking with you, figuring out what you actually like, and adjusting drinks around your preferences.
That is one of the things I appreciate most about a great cocktail bar. The drink matters, but so does the person making it.
Destination bars and the hotel rooftop
Paradiso in Barcelona was another kind of experience. The creativity, presentation, and atmosphere make the bar a destination in itself. It is the type of place I specifically plan around because I want to see what they are doing.
But not every memorable drink needs that kind of production.
While staying at Sir Victor in Barcelona, the rooftop became my go-to after a long day exploring the city. After walking all day, a few liters of water and a couple of drinks up there became part of the routine. It was not about chasing another famous cocktail bar or checking another place off a list. Sometimes I just wanted somewhere comfortable to sit, cool down, look out over Barcelona, and relax before deciding what came next.
I found the same thing in São Paulo. After spending an entire day at Interlagos, sometimes the last thing I want to do is immediately rush somewhere else.
The bar at the InterContinental São Paulo became a good place to sit down, have a drink, and relax for a while before getting ready for dinner. I have used the W São Paulo the same way. Sometimes a hotel bar is exactly what I need after a race day: somewhere comfortable, a good cocktail, and an hour when I do not have to be anywhere.
Then there are places like Overstory in New York, where the setting becomes part of the experience. You are there for the cocktails, but being high above Manhattan with that view turns a drink into something bigger.
I do not need every cocktail bar to have an award, a complicated concept, or a place on a global ranking.
I also have to be realistic about how much I try to fit into one night. A cocktail before dinner, a long wine pairing, and several bars afterward can sound like a great plan when I am sitting at home building the itinerary. Then I remember there is usually another full day waiting for me.
At this point, I would rather give one or two places enough time to enjoy them than spend the entire night watching the clock and rushing to the next reservation.
The problem is that the list never gets shorter. There are only so many dinners, cocktails, and evenings in one trip, and somehow I always find more places than I have time for.
5. I Want to See More Than the Circuit
If I am taking time off work and flying to another country, I want time to experience the place beyond the race. That means leaving room for neighborhoods, architecture, museums, food, and sometimes just walking around without every hour assigned to something.
Barcelona made that especially clear to me. There is so much history built into the city that even a normal walk can become part of the experience. Gaudí’s architecture, the Gothic Quarter, the old streets, the cafés, and the markets all gave me reasons to keep exploring beyond the race itself.
São Paulo has been different, but just as interesting. I love the street art at Beco do Batman. I have spent time exploring Ibirapuera Park, one of the city’s major cultural and green spaces, and I have visited the Ayrton Senna memorial there. Ibirapuera is the kind of place where you can spend hours walking and still feel like you have only seen part of it.
The places still on my list
There are still parts of São Paulo I want to experience more deeply. One of them is Liberdade, the neighborhood most closely associated with São Paulo’s Japanese community. I especially want to experience it on a weekend, when the streets are busier and the neighborhood has more of that festival and street-market atmosphere.
Another experience on my wish list is a Sunday morning exploring the car scene around Avenida Europa. Classic cars, Ferraris, Porsches and other exotics are very much my kind of Sunday morning.
Of course, there is one problem. During Grand Prix weekend, Sunday morning is not going to happen. I will be at Interlagos.
Every trip gives me another list of places I want to return to and things I still have not managed to fit in.
Give yourself time to enjoy the city
Race days themselves can take more out of you than the itinerary suggests. In Barcelona, I walked more than twelve miles on each of those days, including getting to the circuit and exploring once I was inside. I loved it, but that is a substantial day before dinner even enters the conversation.
So when I say to allow extra days, part of the reason is simply having enough energy to enjoy where you are. I do not want to fly to another country, spend every day at the circuit, eat dinner, go back to the hotel, and then head to the airport. That would feel like I attended a race in another country without really experiencing the country.
I want time to stop for a coffee, walk into a shop, take a longer route because something caught my attention, or change the plan because someone gave me a recommendation that sounds better than what I had scheduled.
But I also know there is a point where too much planning can start working against the trip. If every hour is assigned to something, then a spontaneous drink, an unexpected conversation, a neighborhood you want to keep exploring, or a restaurant you did not know about suddenly becomes a problem.
The best version of these trips, for me, has both: enough planning that I do not miss the experiences I really care about, and enough open time that I can actually enjoy being somewhere new.
To me, Formula 1 luxury travel should include enough time to experience the destination, not just the circuit.
6. The Research Starts Long Before the Flight
I spend a ridiculous amount of time planning these trips. And I mean hours. Possibly days.
I search social media, read food blogs and travel sites, look through restaurant and bar accounts, ask chefs and bartenders for recommendations, and talk to other travelers about what they loved, what they would skip, and what they would actually do again.
I also go through Reddit travel boards and local discussions, then use ChatGPT to keep researching the city’s restaurant, hotel, cocktail, and Formula 1 scenes from different angles.
I want enough different sources and opinions that, by the time I start booking, I am not relying on one list or one person’s idea of what is worth doing. For dates, reservations, admission rules and package inclusions, I check the current information with the venue or official organizer.
By the time I leave, I usually have a pretty good idea of what I want to do, what has to be booked in advance, and what can stay flexible.
Build around the hardest bookings
Restaurant reservations usually take the most attention. Some places open months ahead. Others release tables much closer to the date. Some require a credit card guarantee. Some disappear almost immediately. Wanting to eat somewhere and actually getting a reservation are two completely different things.
Then there is the circuit. Getting there, getting back, deciding how early I need to leave, and figuring out what is realistic afterward all matter. A race day that looks simple on paper can become a very long day once transportation, walking, crowds, and weather are added to it.
That is why I usually build the trip around the things that are hardest to move. The published race sessions are the starting point. A restaurant I really want may have only one reservation time available. A hotel event, party, or special experience may happen on one specific night.
Once those pieces are in place, I can work the other meals, bars, neighborhoods, and sightseeing around them.
The challenge is making those ideas work together. Every individual idea may sound easy enough on its own. Then I start putting everything on a map and matching it against race sessions, restaurant times, traffic, transportation, and how tired I am realistically going to be after a full day at the track.
Geography, time and the whole budget
Geography matters just as much as availability. Two reservations can both technically work and still make for a miserable evening if getting from one to the other takes too much time. I would rather spend that time enjoying where I am than sitting in traffic or watching the clock because I tried to force too much into one night.
My time on the trip has value too.
I also try to look at the full cost instead of convincing myself that every individual upgrade is reasonable. Flights, the hotel, race tickets, transportation, restaurants, drinks, shopping, and everything else all come out of the same budget.
Looking at each purchase separately makes it very easy to say, “It is only a little more.” Then you add everything together. That is when the trip becomes expensive very quickly.
The best itinerary protects the experiences I care about most while still leaving enough room to enjoy where I am.
For me, good planning is part of Formula 1 luxury travel. I do all of that research so that once I get there, I can spend less time worrying about what I should be doing next.
The goal is not to complete an itinerary. The goal is to enjoy the trip.
7. The People Make the Weekend
The view from the grandstands at Interlagos—and São Paulo’s unpredictable weather—changed how I think about choosing Formula 1 seats.
It doesn’t matter who you support. It matters that you love F1.
Even between sessions, I could spend hours taking this place in.
These were the seats I loved: a view of the track and a whole weekend of people to meet.
Sector G. Where my love for Formula 1 and São Paulo really began.
Setor G. A wristband from the weekend that changed how I saw Formula 1—and São Paulo.
Some of my strongest Formula 1 memories involve getting soaked in Sector G at Interlagos, drinking beer and canned Jack and Coke, and talking with people I had never met before. We were there for the same reason. Different teams. Different drivers. Different countries. Same sport.
When people made room for me under shelter from the rain, that small gesture stayed with me. We did not all speak the same language, but it did not matter much. Formula 1 already gave us something to talk about.
For someone who does not always find it easy to start a conversation, that shared interest makes a difference. I have written more about those connections in Why I Love Formula 1: Racing, Travel & Belonging.
Hospitality is a choice, not a requirement
I have also done hospitality and paddock experiences, and I enjoy them. In the experiences I tried, I appreciated the additional access. The added comfort, food and drinks were part of the appeal too. I would happily do those experiences again when they make sense for the trip.
But I have also become more realistic about what I want to spend on them.
If upgrading to hospitality means giving up a great hotel, several dinners, extra days in the city, or another trip entirely, then I have to decide what matters more. Sometimes the answer is hospitality. Sometimes it is not. And that does not make the grandstands feel like a compromise.
I genuinely enjoy being surrounded by fans who care about what is happening on the track as much as I do. When an overtake happens, someone crashes, the weather changes, or a favorite driver comes past, the reaction around you becomes part of the race. That atmosphere is hard to recreate anywhere else.
To me, that belongs in a conversation about luxury travel too. Luxury does not always mean being separated from everyone else.
Sometimes it is a beautiful hotel, an exceptional tasting menu, and a great cocktail. Sometimes it is standing in a packed grandstand in the rain with thousands of people losing their minds over what just happened on track. A great Formula 1 trip can have both.
That mix is one of the things I like most about Formula 1 luxury travel. Luxury can mean hospitality and five-star hotels, but it can also mean having the freedom to choose the experiences that matter most to me.
I want to enjoy the whole trip and make the budget work across all of it.
Hospitality is still on the wish list. But so is another great weekend in the grandstands.
If you want more of my thinking on experiencing the city beyond the race itself, I wrote about that in Formula 1 Beyond the Circuit.
The Race Gets Me There. The Whole Trip Brings Me Back.
Formula 1 has changed where I travel, how I plan, and what I want from a trip. I still look forward to race day. But I also look forward to the dinner reservation I made months earlier, going back to a bar I loved, spending time in a hotel that became part of the experience, and finding another reason to return to a city I thought I already knew.
That is also why I write about these trips. I want to give people more than a photograph of an expensive room, a beautiful plate, or a race ticket.
What made the experience memorable? Would I spend the money again? Would I stay there again? Would I make the reservation again? Where would I sit at the circuit, and would I choose those seats again?
What I would want to know before booking
That last question is something I have learned to take much more seriously.
At my first São Paulo Grand Prix, I learned the value of a covered grandstand. It does not rain every São Paulo Grand Prix, but São Paulo weather can be strange. You can go from looking at a sky without a cloud in it to standing in a downpour. I know that from experience.
Getting soaked at Interlagos gave me some great memories, but it also taught me that when I am choosing seats there again, having a roof over my head matters.
Barcelona taught me the opposite weather lesson. My grandstand seats there were directly in the sun during the race. After spending hours at the circuit, that makes a difference too.
Those experiences changed how I look at tickets. I am not only asking whether a grandstand has a good view of the track anymore.
Is it covered? Where will the sun be during the race? Can I see a screen? What section of the circuit am I actually watching? How easy is it to get in and out? And after experiencing it once, would I pay to sit there again?
Those details can matter just as much as the section number printed on the ticket. They are also exactly the kind of details I want to include when I write about these trips, because they are the things I wish I knew before buying the ticket myself.
If you are planning your first Grand Prix trip, give yourself time around the race if you can. Pick a few experiences you genuinely care about. Book the things that are hardest to replace, then leave some room to explore.
And when you buy the race ticket, do not just look at a circuit map and assume every grandstand experience is the same.
Your version of Formula 1 luxury travel should reflect what you actually enjoy. Mine usually involves a great hotel, too many restaurant reservations, a few good cocktails, a lot of walking, and plenty of time around people who love Formula 1 as much as I do.
It adds up. I am very aware of that.
But when I look back at the races, the cities, the meals, the hotels, the people I met—and even the lessons learned from getting soaked in Brazil or cooked by the sun in Barcelona—I usually come to the same conclusion.
Completely Unnecessary. Absolutely Worth It.
Planning your own Interlagos weekend? My São Paulo Grand Prix Travel Guide covers my experiences with grandstands, transport, rain, food at the circuit, and fitting dinner into a race weekend.
Follow my Instagram A Vision for the Future of Grand Prix Hospitality The Opportunity Over the past several years, I’ve traveled to Formula 1 destinations around the world—not simply to attend races, but to experience the cities that host them. Long before I purchase a race ticket, I’m researching restaurants, cocktail bars, hotels, neighborhoods, architecture, […]
Formula 1 live experience: Working at Ferrari got me interested in Formula 1. Traveling for races made it a much bigger part of my life. Now a Grand Prix gives me a reason to plan a trip, explore a city and spend a weekend around something I genuinely enjoy. The cars are the reason to […]
Formula 1 Grandstand Seats: At a Glance My priority: A worthwhile track view, a screen I can read and a seat I can enjoy for the whole day. For racing: I look for braking zones, corners and opportunities to watch a battle develop, rather than choosing a fast straight purely for its name. For comfort: […]
About two years ago, I had a brunch experience here where the service missed the mark. The waterfront setting was beautiful, the buffet looked impressive and, importantly, the food was still good. What hurt that visit was the service.
My next two visits were completely different. First, I received great service at a busy outdoor bar. Then, during my most recent Sunday dinner, the waiter was on point throughout the entire meal.
The food and drinks were good, the service was excellent, and those more recent visits reminded me why Blu Pointe has remained one of the strongest restaurants on the Newburgh waterfront.
I will be back.
A cocktail overlooking the Hudson River at Blu Pointe.
If you are deciding between brunch, dinner and a visit to the bar, keep those experiences separate as you read. My strongest recent experiences were the outdoor bar and Sunday dinner. The brunch account below explains why I had been hesitant to return, rather than describing the service I received at dinner.
Address and official menu/booking links checked October 27, 2026. Confirm operating hours and availability directly with Blu Pointe before traveling. Menu selections and prices may change.
Waterfront Dining in Newburgh
Blu Pointe is one of the anchors of the Newburgh waterfront. With Billy Joe’s Ribworks on one end, Captain Jake’s in the middle, and Blu Pointe at the other, these restaurants help define this stretch of the Hudson River.
What separates Blu Pointe, in my opinion, is the food and mixology. Of the waterfront restaurants in Newburgh, I think Blu Pointe has consistently been the strongest overall in both categories, and that makes it difficult for newer restaurants to compete.
Primo Waterfront came close for me. I thought the food was very good and the cocktail program was strong, but it has since been replaced by Cibo e Vino il Fiume.
Blu Pointe has remained one of the constants. The restaurant sits directly along the Hudson River and offers seafood, sushi, steaks and a large raw-bar selection in a spacious dining room overlooking the water.
The location is another major strength. Even during my latest visit, when the weather was rainy and gray, the Hudson River backdrop still added something to the experience. On a clear day, the outdoor bar may be one of the best places along the waterfront to enjoy the setting with a cocktail and a meal.
Blu Pointe Review: The Earlier Brunch That Almost Lost Me
About two years ago, I had a brunch visit at Blu Pointe that nearly changed my opinion of the restaurant.
I had already visited several times and genuinely wanted to like it. The brunch buffet was beautifully presented and included peel-and-eat shrimp. Most of the other cold and raw-bar seafood cost extra, but the selection gave guests the option of turning brunch into a much larger seafood experience.
Unfortunately, the service during that particular visit was horrible.
About 40 minutes into the meal, the waitress asked whether I planned to order anything from the raw bar or was “just having the basic brunch.”
That was a strange question because I had already placed an order with her for more than $200 worth of raw-bar seafood.
When I asked about the order, she said, “Let me check on it.” She returned and told me they were still preparing it.
The order included raw oysters and chilled shellfish. After such a long wait, being told it was still being prepared did not make sense. If she had simply admitted that the order had been forgotten, I would have understood. Mistakes happen.
I was not looking for complimentary food. I do not like asking for free things anyway. What bothered me was the refusal to acknowledge what had obviously happened.
She was also missing for much of the meal. When I wanted another drink, I ended up ordering through members of the bussing staff because my waitress was nowhere around.
For a restaurant selling premium seafood and expensive raw-bar additions, forgetting an order that large is not a minor mistake. Combined with the attitude, lack of attention and questionable explanation, it ruined what should have been an enjoyable brunch.
The buffet was attractive, but good food and a waterfront view can only make up for so much.
A Busy Outdoor Bar With Great Service
A few weeks before dinner, I stopped at Blu Pointe’s outdoor bar on my way home from BLACKBARN.
The bar was busy. Three bartenders were making drinks for the people seated at the bar while also filling drink orders for guests dining throughout the restaurant.
Despite how much they were handling, all three did a great job.
I never felt ignored, and the service never seemed overwhelmed or disorganized. Watching them manage a busy bar so effectively gave me a reason to reconsider.
That experience showed me a completely different side of Blu Pointe and convinced me to return for an early Sunday dinner.
I am glad I did.
A colorful cocktail at Blu Pointe’s waterfront outdoor bar.
Oysters served over ice during my visit to Blu Pointe’s outdoor bar.
Fries, a cocktail and excellent service at Blu Pointe’s busy outdoor bar.
Returning for an Early Sunday Dinner
The difference between brunch and dinner was immediate.
Our waiter was on point throughout the entire meal. He remained attentive without hovering, checked on us consistently and was there whenever we needed something.
If he was helping another table, he returned as soon as he could. He also offered useful recommendations, helping us choose oysters and appetizers instead of simply taking the order and disappearing.
Returning to Blu Pointe for an early Sunday dinner.
Bread and butter arrived while we considered the seafood and raw-bar selections.
Cocktails, Oysters and Appetizers
We began with cocktails, bread and butter while looking out over the Hudson River.
The drinks were good and gave us time to consider the restaurant’s seafood and raw-bar selections.
Our waiter helped us choose a mixed selection of oysters based on what was available that day. The oysters arrived over ice with the traditional accompaniments.
Having a knowledgeable waiter is valuable when a restaurant offers several oyster varieties. Instead of leaving us to choose blindly, he helped guide the order according to our preferences.
We also ordered mussels served with bread and the Charred Octopus, prepared with potatoes, broken olives and Marcona-almond romesco.
Our waiter helped us choose a mixed selection of oysters available that day.
Mussels served with bread were part of our appetizer order.
Charred Octopus with potatoes, broken olives and Marcona-almond romesco.
Berkshire Pork Chop and Hiddenfjord Salmon
For the main courses, our table ordered the Berkshire Pork Chop and Hiddenfjord Salmon.
The pork chop was accompanied by fingerling potatoes, spinach, peppers, onions and agrodolce. The salmon was served with summer succotash, fingerling potatoes, corn nage and basil chimichurri.
The food and drinks were good throughout dinner. Nothing felt like it was relying solely on the Hudson River view to justify the experience.
We finished with the Flourless Chocolate Cake, served with chocolate ice cream and cream.
It was a substantial dinner, but the pacing and attentive service kept the experience enjoyable from beginning to end.
Berkshire Pork Chop
Hiddenfjord Salmon with summer succotash, fingerling potatoes, corn nage and basil chimichurri.
We finished dinner with Blu Pointe’s Flourless Chocolate Cake.
Blu Pointe Review: Is It Worth It?
My final Blu Pointe review comes down to one answer: yes, it was worth returning.
Blu Pointe is not an inexpensive restaurant, especially once oysters, appetizers, entrées and cocktails begin adding up. At these prices, guests should expect more than good food and a waterfront view. The service also needs to deliver.
My brunch visit about two years ago did not meet that standard.
My recent visits to the outdoor bar and dining room absolutely did.
More importantly, the food has remained consistent throughout my experiences here. Even during the brunch where the service was poor, I still cannot say I had a bad meal.
That consistency, combined with what I consider one of the strongest cocktail programs on the Newburgh waterfront, is what keeps Blu Pointe near the top for me.
BLACKBARN Hudson Valley at a Glance Location: Diamond Mills, 25 South Partition Street, Saugerties, New YorkCuisine: Seasonal American and farm-to-table diningExperience: Weekend brunch overlooking Esopus FallsPrice: Upscale brunch pricing—especially when you enjoy a cocktail or fourWhat I ordered: Strawberry and banana bruschetta, loaded tater tots, kale Caesar salad, spicy watermelon salad, shrimp and grits, lobster […]
I’ve made the roughly 40-mile drive from Campbell Hall to Viaggio several times. For the Viaggio x La Valle Summer Harvest Dinner, the problem was getting a seat. It was sold out. Chef Matthew “Rabbit” McCormick found room for me at the counter. Becoming friends with chefs you respect on Instagram and writing good things […]
“Luxury isn’t always white tablecloths and whispered conversations. Sometimes it’s Champagne, an egg-shaped cocktail, and a chicken nugget topped with black truffle.” Luxury isn’t always white tablecloths and whispered conversations. Sometimes it’s Champagne, an egg-shaped cocktail, and a chicken nugget topped with black truffle. This COQODAQ brunch review comes from my July 2026 visit in […]
I’ve made the roughly 40-mile drive from Campbell Hall to Viaggio several times. For the Viaggio x La Valle Summer Harvest Dinner, the problem was getting a seat. It was sold out.
Chef Matthew “Rabbit” McCormick found room for me at the counter. Becoming friends with chefs you respect on Instagram and writing good things about good food does have its perks.
I didn’t start this blog for free food. I started it for the access and the relationships that help me eat great food. Eventually, I want to use those relationships to put together dinners and events that bring the right people to the table.
Then I sat down and found myself next to my seventh-grade social studies teacher. Of all the people I could have ended up beside at a sold-out dinner in Wayne.
Later that night, I told Rabbit he’d earned another good article. He joked that I didn’t need to write about Viaggio again. Sorry, Rabbit. I’d already written about my previous chef’s-counter experience, but this was a different menu with La Valle Foods, and there was plenty to talk about.
Quick verdict: I’d make the drive again for the carpaccio or either pasta course. Any one of the plates served at this dinner would get me back in the car.
Viaggio x La Valle Dinner at a Glance
Restaurant: Viaggio Ristorante
Location: 1055 Hamburg Turnpike, Wayne, New Jersey
Event: Viaggio x La Valle Summer Harvest Dinner Experience
Date: Sep 8, 2026
Format: Five-course collaborative dinner with an opening bite
Featured producer: La Valle Foods
Chef for this dinner and Chef de Cuisine: Matthew “Rabbit” McCormick and the Viaggio team
Viaggio chef-owner: Robbie Felice
Would I return? I keep coming back.
La Valle x Viaggio — September 8, 2026.
Rosé and the evening’s menu at my counter seat.
A closer look at the dishes and ingredients featured at the Viaggio x La Valle dinner.
Rabbit, Sam and a Little Kitchen Chaos
I like sitting at the counter at Viaggio. I can watch Rabbit and the team cook and plate, ask questions and see what’s coming next.
I also got to see the chaos of feeding a whole restaurant at the same time. Things got spilled. I’ll never admit it was caviar.
This was Rabbit’s first dinner event like this without Robbie by his side. He had his kitchen staff and Viaggio’s general manager, Sam Boyarin (@thesamager), who was also there for my first tasting at Viaggio. Yes, there was chaos—you’re feeding a whole restaurant at once. But Rabbit, Sam and the kitchen crew worked through it like the professionals they are. I think this crew is going to make names for themselves in the New Jersey food scene, and I’m looking forward to watching it happen.
I didn’t always wait for the full explanation before eating, either. That’s on me. I’d already finished a few courses by the time Rabbit started explaining them to the dining room.
Sam told us he’d managed a comedy club before Viaggio and didn’t even know what carbonara was before his first day. From what I understand, this is his first restaurant job. I’d like to hear how that move happened.
At this point, I consider Sam and Rabbit friends, and I think they feel the same. If they’re up for it, I’d love to sit down with Sam and Matthew “Rabbit” McCormick (@cheffrabbit_) and write about how they ended up at Viaggio and where their passion for the work comes from.
I also need the story behind how Matthew McCormick became “Chef Rabbit”—and where the family taco stand fits into it. With a name like McCormick, I would have guessed Irish fare, seafood at McCormick & Schmick’s, or some kind of spice royalty. A family taco stand wasn’t where my mind went, which makes me want to hear the story even more.
And I still need to find out whether Sam ever did comedy himself or is just a funny guy who happened to manage a comedy club and now a restaurant.
There’s a family history here, too. Robbie opened Viaggio with his father, Joe, in 2016, and the Felice family was in the New Jersey restaurant business long before that. His father is still involved. Rabbit, Sam and this crew are helping carry that history forward.
Rosé, Two Pinot Noirs and Limoncello
Wine at the counter while the kitchen prepares the NJ Tomato Bite amuse-bouche.
Kitchen chaos, seen from the comfort of my counter seat.
Limoncello served with compliments of La Valle Foods at the Viaggio dinner.
I brought two bottles of Pinot Noir: Patricia Green Cellars Anniversary Cuvée from Oregon and Flowers Sonoma Coast from California. But first, rosé. Then I opened the Patricia Green, followed by the Flowers. We finished with limoncello.
Viaggio is BYOB, but rosé and limoncello were on the house for everyone at this dinner. I got a little more of both, plus a few extra caviar bumps. I paid for my dinner and brought the two bottles myself.
First, an NJ Tomato Bite
NJ Tomato Bite “Nom Nom”—the evening’s amuse-bouche, lined up and ready for service.
The amuse-bouche: NJ Tomato Bite “Nom Nom,” with whipped Meyer lemon ricotta, Altima caviar and Olio Verde.
Wine at the counter with the NJ Tomato Bite “Nom Nom” amuse-bouche.
The menu called the opening bite “NJ Tomato Bite *NOM NOM*.” It came with whipped Meyer lemon ricotta, Altima caviar and Olio Verde.
Tomato, ricotta and caviar before we’d even reached the first course. A good start.
First Course: Wagyu Carpaccio
The first course, a glass of wine and a view into the kitchen.
Wagyu Carpaccio with tomato aioli, arugula, Grana Padano and sea salt.
A caviar bump at my counter seat.
The Wagyu carpaccio was seared on the outside, raw inside and sliced paper thin. It came with tomato aioli, arugula, Grana Padano and sea salt.
I’ve had plenty of carpaccios and tartares, and Rabbit, you nailed this one. It’s definitely one of my favorites. I’m not kissing your ass here or handing out praise just because it’s Viaggio. This dish deserves it.
I could have eaten a pound of this. It was one of my favorites of the night, and I’d happily order it again.
Five stars from me. Deep down, I’m a steak-and-potatoes guy. Tasting menus get me to try flavors I wouldn’t necessarily order on my own and learn about other cultures through a chef’s cooking.
Viaggio x La Valle Dinner: Second Course: Spaghetti all’Amatriciana
Chef Rabbit at work, bringing the evening’s dishes to the pass.
That plate didn’t stand a chance.
La Valle on display beside the action in Viaggio’s kitchen.
Spaghetti all’Amatriciana with guanciale and pecorino nero.
Spaghetti all’Amatriciana, wine and a front-row view of the kitchen.
Next came spaghetti all’Amatriciana with guanciale and pecorino nero. I make this at home, so I had something to compare it with.
I first learned to make Amatriciana because I saw it on the menu at Rossi & Sons in Poughkeepsie. One night after work, I drove over already thinking about dinner. I hadn’t checked the hours. They were closed.
So I looked up a recipe, stopped at the grocery store and made it myself. Both Rossi’s version and mine used bucatini.
Rabbit’s was better than both mine and Rossi’s. I like my cooking, but I know when someone has me beat.
Rabbit, you still need to take a ride to Poughkeepsie for a Rossi’s sandwich. Have a look at their menu and you’ll understand why.
This was also the course that made me want to try La Valle tomatoes in my own sauce. I did, and I’ll get to that.
Third Course: ‘Doppio’ alla Norma
Raviolo Doppio alla Norma at the Viaggio x La Valle dinner, photographed from above.
Raviolo Doppio alla Norma, a Flowers wine bottle, and a view into Viaggio’s kitchen.
The ‘Doppio’ alla Norma was one giant raviolo with two separate pockets: fairytale eggplant in one and smoked juniper ricotta in the other, all sitting on a bed of tomato passata. Rabbit’s take on enormous pasta. I’m on board.
This was one ginormous raviolo—big, tasty, and interesting.
It tasted as good as it looked. I wanted a whole bowl of it.
Two pasta courses in the same dinner. No complaints from me.
And that’s coming from someone who’s lactose intolerant and willing to let his stomach complain for the right meal.
Fourth Course: Hiramasa Mosaic
A counter-seat view of Hiramasa Mosaic, Flowers wine, and Viaggio’s open kitchen.
Hiramasa Mosaic at the Viaggio x La Valle dinner.
A caviar bump at the counter during the Viaggio x La Valle dinner.
This was one of the more technical dishes of the night, and Rabbit nailed it. The Hiramasa Mosaic paired delicate kingfish with leek-artichoke purée, sea fennel, and fresh chive.
Rabbit added caviar to ours, which went really well with the fish. I also appreciated the work that went into putting this dish together. Rabbit, this is why I keep writing about you. My laptop practically autocompletes “Viaggio” and “Rabbit” now.
For this final savory course, I actually let Rabbit finish explaining it to the dining room before I housed the whole dish. Once I started, it was gone in less than two minutes.
When I find food I really like, I eat too fast, and I don’t like to share. Reach toward my plate and I might react like a dog protecting its dinner. You might get a tap with a fork or spoon. You’ll definitely get a sarcastic comment. Maybe that’s the northern New Jersey in me.
Fifth Course: The Italian Sundae
A side view of the Italian Sundae, the final course of the Viaggio x La Valle dinner.
Dessert at the counter, with the Italian Sundae in front of Viaggio’s open kitchen.
The Italian Sundae at Viaggio x La Valle: fior di latte gelato, Sungold tomato jam, focaccia crumble and basil.
The Italian Sundae was fior di latte gelato with Sungold tomato jam, focaccia crumble and basil. Yes, the tomatoes made it into dessert too.
I’m lactose intolerant, which is why I had no business finishing a bowl of gelato. I was going to have a taste.
I ate the whole thing.
I never would have expected those ingredients to come together in a dessert this good.
A big shout-out to Viaggio’s pastry chef—and I’m sorry I’ve forgotten your name—because you took a combination I honestly didn’t think would work and made it simply amazing.
This is exactly why, in my opinion, letting the kitchen decide can make more sense than choosing every dish yourself. Left to my own devices, I probably would have ordered something familiar and missed out on this entirely. Trusting the kitchen gives you the chance to discover something you didn’t even know you wanted.
I never would have ordered this on my own. Now I’d happily eat it again, over and over.
I should mention the room, too. Even with my back to the dining room, I could hear everyone getting comfortable with each other. It started to feel like one big Italian family bonding over dinner, with Lisa from La Valle dancing around too.
A candid kitchen moment with Chef Matthew “Rabbit” McCormick, general manager Sam Boyarin, Lisa from La Valle Foods, and the Viaggio team.
Chef Matthew “Rabbit” McCormick, general manager Sam Boyarin, and members of the Viaggio staff with La Valle products at the kitchen counter.
Chef Matthew “Rabbit” McCormick, general manager Sam Boyarin, and Lisa from La Valle Foods with the Viaggio team after the dinner
What I Learned About La Valle
La Valle’s giveaway display at Viaggio, where guests could choose products to take home, with aprons and wooden spoons also available.
La Valle Foods goes back to 1949, when Alfonso Sellitto started the business near Naples in the years after World War II. The company says it’s now in its fourth generation.
According to La Valle’s company history, its products were sold throughout Italy by 1960. It was exporting canned San Marzano tomatoes to the U.S. under other labels by 1965, and its own La Valle-branded whole peeled San Marzano tomatoes arrived here in 1982.
The Sellitto name is still behind the business. Alfonso Sellitto S.p.A. is listed among the official San Marzano DOP consortium’s member processors.
La Valle’s whole peeled San Marzano DOP tomatoes were the ones I wanted to learn more about. Rabbit spoke highly of them and said he uses them in a lot of his cooking. The full protected name is Pomodoro San Marzano dell’Agro Sarnese-Nocerino DOP. They come from a defined area in Campania covering designated towns in Salerno, Naples and Avellino.
Rabbit also told a story about running out of these tomatoes. One quick call to Lisa, and she stopped at Viaggio on her way home in what Rabbit called her “mom van,” with enough cans to get him through. That’s the kind of relationship I like hearing about.
DOP means Protected Designation of Origin. Under the European Union’s rules, production, processing and preparation have to happen in the designated region and meet the product’s standards. For me, the useful part is knowing that “San Marzano” on a can and the full DOP designation aren’t automatically the same thing.
Seeing “S.p.A.” after the company name also sent my F1 brain straight to Spa. Apparently I can find a racing reference in a can of tomatoes.
The San Marzano DOP consortium (the name sounds like something out of a Mafia movie) describes these tomatoes as long and fleshy, with thin skin, few seeds and a sweet-sour flavor. All useful to know. What I really wanted to know was whether I’d notice the difference cooking with them myself.
Viaggio x La Valle Dinner: The Sauce Convinced Me
The tomato sauce at Viaggio was exceptional. Of course, Rabbit was the one cooking it. Now I want to know whose recipe it is: his, Robbie’s, or something passed down through the Felice family. Another question for the next dinner.
So I tried La Valle tomatoes in my own kitchen. My sauce was noticeably better than what I usually make. It didn’t come close to Rabbit’s, but I could taste the improvement in my own cooking. That’s enough reason for me to keep buying them.
I want La Valle to be my regular canned tomato brand. And La Valle, if you’re interested in a collaboration, I’d love to talk about what I could cook and share with a case or two every quarter. I could also put my sales experience to work introducing the products to restaurants and pizzerias here in the Hudson Valley.
A Hudson Valley pizza article is on my list, too. I have about five places I keep coming back to, but I’m still doing the research. Eating my way through every pizzeria while trying to slim down before getting on camera is proving to be a difficult combination.
I looked for La Valle on my last trip to ShopRite and didn’t see it. Maybe it was sold out. Maybe I missed it. I’ve since found it online, so I have another way to get it.
La Valle is based in East Rutherford. My family lives in Hasbrouck Heights, and I used to live in Rutherford, so I’m around that area anyway. Even my haircuts take me to Glen Rock. Lisa, maybe I need to ask about picking up tomatoes next time I’m down there. My grandmother would have loved making her sauce with these.
More Than Tomatoes
La Valle’s tomato range goes beyond the whole peeled cans: cherry tomatoes, ground tomatoes, purée and paste are also in the lineup.
The preserved vegetables and beans include sun-dried tomatoes, artichokes, roasted peppers, marinated mushrooms, eggplant, chickpeas and lentils. There’s also extra-virgin olive oil pressed from olives grown in Italy and balsamic vinegar. Plenty to work with for an antipasto spread or dinner at home. I came for the tomatoes, but now I have a few more things to try.
Lisa was there representing La Valle, and her brother was at a table with friends and family. Their sister was home on babysitting duty, while their parents were on a flight back from Italy. Lisa, I hope you brought home leftovers.
She had great energy and wore custom tomato jeans for the event. Apparently there were La Valle sneakers too, which I somehow missed until I saw them on La Valle’s Instagram afterward. What kind of sneakerhead am I?
Lisa, I’d love to get together and hear more about your family, too. The family in Italy, the family importing those products here, and how you work together. I’d like to give that story its own article and introduce more people to the family behind La Valle.
La Valle also let everyone pick out products to take home, with aprons available too. I left with five cans and jars in total, an apron and a wooden spoon Lisa had burned the logo into earlier. A few things for the next round of cooking at home.
Ten Dinners and More Than 850 Miles
I live in Campbell Hall, New York, near Goshen. For my New Jersey readers, I’m roughly another 15 minutes beyond Woodbury Common on the way up. None of Robbie Felice’s restaurants is around the corner. These are my approximate one-way trips:
Viaggio in Wayne, Osteria Crescendo and Bar Mutz in Westwood: about 40 miles, usually 50 minutes to an hour before traffic. And we all know about that.
Pasta Ramen in Montclair: about 55 miles and over an hour and 15 minutes.
I grew up in Bergen County and have family in Essex and Morris counties. I usually get them to meet me at one of these restaurants or somewhere halfway north.
Apparently, I’ll drive farther for Robbie’s menus than I will to see my own mother. My father too. They come as a package deal.
In the past year, I’ve been to Viaggio four times, Osteria Crescendo three times, Pasta Ramen twice and Bar Mutz once.
As I’m writing this, I have the Jonas Brothers’ episode of Last Meals on, and Kevin’s choice includes the lemon pasta from Bar Mutz. The show even got the recipe from Robbie. Apparently I’m in good company. Then again, I ate at Bar Mutz before watching this episode, so I’m going to say they followed my lead.
Ten meals across four restaurants. Count those as round trips from my house and it comes to more than 850 miles. Traffic can make the trips longer, but I keep going.
Some reservations were under friends’ names, and I didn’t photograph every dinner. I only started documenting my meals consistently about six months ago. There was a time when I just ate.
I photograph the shitty meals too. I just don’t usually write about them. I work in a business that lives on reviews, and I’d rather spend my time sharing the places I enjoyed. If I mention a restaurant and nothing appears a week or two later, it may not have made the cut. It may also mean I’m behind.
Alongside the blog and Instagram, I have a full-time job, two other businesses, and work helping businesses with web design, AI, automation, CRM and advertising. Somebody has to pay these dinner bills, bar tabs and wine bills.
I like that these restaurants give me different reasons to go back. I’m not making all those trips for the same dinner.
I’ve even met Robbie Felice’s parents at Viaggio. Still haven’t met Robbie. He’s the reason I started eating at these restaurants in the first place. I’ve read plenty about him, but I’d love to sit down and hear his story myself: how he got here and what he wants to do next. From what I understand, our circles may even overlap.
I also think northern New Jersey could use more Formula 1 viewing parties. Other than Sim 1 Racing in Paramus, I don’t know of many, and I can picture Robbie’s restaurants being part of that. Food and drinks inspired by wherever the race is taking place, maybe a guest chef or a collaboration between kitchens. That’s an idea I’d like to talk about.
If they’re interested, I’d also like to talk with the chefs and general managers at Osteria Crescendo, Bar Mutz and Pasta Ramen. These are some of my favorite restaurants in New Jersey. I want to know more about the people running them, how they got there and why they chose this work.
Robbie, I’m into sneakers and cars too. If we ever manage to meet, I think we’ll find some common ground.
Or meet me in São Paulo. I’d love to take you to Evvai and introduce you to Luiz. Eduardo at Metzi was interested in your cuisine, and I think you’d find plenty of inspiration at Metzi, Kazuo, Evvai and D.O.M. Alex Atala opened D.O.M. in 1999 and helped redefine South American fine dining by showing that native Brazilian and Amazonian ingredients could anchor a world-class tasting menu. We’d need to fit in A Casa do Porco too. Italians appreciate good pork.
Then there’s Liberdade. I could spend a month showing you places to eat in São Paulo and still have more on the list. The first meal, or a few of them, would be on me.
I Still Need the Viaggio x La Valle T-Shirt
The Viaggio and La Valle staff were all wearing a Viaggio x La Valle T-shirt. I want one.
I joked with Rabbit that I’d write a bad review if I didn’t get the shirt. It was a joke. I loved the dinner.
Viaggio x La Valle Dinner Review: Would I Do It Again?
I’d absolutely do it again. The carpaccio and both pastas were the standouts for me, the fish was great, and I finished a dessert I should have left alone. They even got my caviar-hating dining partner asking for another caviar bump.
I got a seat at the counter, caught up with my seventh-grade teacher and met people behind the food I was eating. I even found tomatoes I want to keep using at home.
This is the kind of dinner I want more of: good food, people worth getting to know and a reason to sit down together. It’s also the kind of night I’d like to help put together myself.
I’d pay for another one and make the drive again.
Now I just need the T-shirt.
Completely Unnecessary. Absolutely Worth It.
But Viaggio, Osteria Crescendo, Bar Mutz and Pasta Ramen? I’d argue they’re completely necessary to the northern New Jersey food scene.
There’s no shortage of Italian restaurants and pizzerias around here. I want a reason to choose one over the dozen others nearby. Robbie and his teams give me that: originality, flavor and handmade pasta worth driving for. They’re raising the bar, and I think that pushes other restaurants to step up too.
Completely necessary. Absolutely worth it.
Chef Rabbit and Manager Sam with the guests during the Viaggio x La Valle dinner.
Dinner remarks among the tables at Viaggio’s La Valle event.
The crowd and dining-room atmosphere at the Viaggio x La Valle dinner.
A final glass of limoncello at the counter after the Viaggio x La Valle dinner.
Limoncello poured for guests to finish the Viaggio x La Valle dinner.
Glasses of limoncello ready at the counter during the Viaggio x La Valle dinner.
Three handmade pastas, Sicilian influence, and a front-row dinner with Chef Matthew “Rabbit” McCormick in Wayne, New Jersey By Richard JarockiAugust 13, 2026 Viaggio Ristorante at a Glance Location: 1055 Hamburg Turnpike, Wayne, New Jersey Price during my visit: The chef’s-counter tasting menu cost $110 per person during my August 2, 2026 visit. Viaggio is […]
I love tasting menus. That does not mean I think you should always order one. I have planned trips around restaurant reservations, tried things I never expected to eat, and spent amounts on dinner that would make plenty of people question my judgment. Fair enough. Sometimes I question it myself. Are tasting menus worth it? […]
“Luxury isn’t always white tablecloths and whispered conversations. Sometimes it’s Champagne, an egg-shaped cocktail, and a chicken nugget topped with black truffle.” Luxury isn’t always white tablecloths and whispered conversations. Sometimes it’s Champagne, an egg-shaped cocktail, and a chicken nugget topped with black truffle. This COQODAQ brunch review comes from my July 2026 visit in […]
Sector G. Where my love for Formula 1 and São Paulo really began.
Setor G. A wristband from the weekend that changed how I saw Formula 1—and São Paulo.
A plastic poncho, a sky like this, and strangers who made me feel like family. This is where I fell in love with F1 and Brazil.
My São Paulo Grand Prix Experience Started in Sector G
My first real Formula 1 experience was in Sector G at Interlagos, getting poured on for hours in a plastic poncho.
I was drinking beer and canned Jack and Coke with people I had never met. First, we were trying to hide from the rain. Later, we were dancing together in muddy fields.
Half the people around me didn’t speak the same language I did. Somehow, we still found ways to connect.
What I remember most is how they made room for me. When we were sheltering under a tent or gazebo, people shifted over and squeezed together so I could get underneath with them. They didn’t know me, but they welcomed me like family.
The F1 fan experience became personal for me right there: people I had never met making room for me like I belonged
That weekend made me fall in love with Formula 1. It also made me fall in love with Brazil.
I appreciate comfortable seats, air conditioning, and a beautiful hospitality space. But when I think about why this sport means so much to me, I still think about that plastic poncho, the mud, and the strangers who made me feel I belonged.
Growing up in the United States with American parents, Formula 1 wasn’t something I heard much about at home. It wasn’t part of my world.
I had Arab and Italian friends growing up, and later Brazilian, Portuguese, Spanish, and South American friends. Some of their family members watched Formula 1 and talked about it. Looking back, I realize the sport was around me. I just wasn’t paying attention.
That changed when I went to work at a Ferrari dealership.
The training manuals and modules taught me about Ferrari’s history and heritage, including its connection to racing. Understanding the brand meant learning why all of this mattered so much to people.
Attending events was part of my job. I also attended races personally, outside my capacity as an employee. What began as something I needed to understand gradually became something I wanted to spend my own time learning about.
Now I get the questions. Friends call me about the current race, upcoming events, and things happening in Formula 1. I went from barely noticing the sport to being the person people associate with it.
The history pulled me in, too. The races, the parties, the personalities, the circuits, and the heritage behind the teams.
I hated history in school. Now I’ll voluntarily spend a night reading about it.
Apparently, I needed race cars involved.
Before working at Ferrari, I never really understood why someone would name their son Enzo.
Now I do.
I used to hate history. Now I stop for the cars, the stories and everything that came before.
The Formula 1 Community is Why I Keep Coming Back: You Don’t Have to Support the Same Driver to Belong
It doesn’t matter who you support. It matters that you love F1.
I’ve attended races in the United States, Canada, Brazil, and Spain. One thing that keeps standing out is how people treat each other.
I have never personally seen a fight at a race over which team someone supports. You hear about rivalries turning ugly in football, soccer, baseball, and basketball. My experience at Formula 1 has been people supporting different teams and still enjoying the weekend together.
I’m describing what I’ve experienced. It’s a big part of why I keep going back.
It doesn’t matter who you support. Being an F1 fan is enough.
Sometimes a conversation starts with, “Did you see Senna back in the day?” Suddenly, someone is sharing a race they’ll never forget, and you’re telling them about yours.
For me, a race is one of the few places where I meet people from across the world simply by sitting beside them or waiting in line. For someone who doesn’t always find it easy to strike up a conversation, that matters.
The connection is already there.
In the grandstands, you might have someone on one side whose net worth has more zeros than you can imagine, and someone on the other who saved for months and made real sacrifices to attend.
You might never know which is which.
For those three days, they’re discussing the same drivers, debating the same decisions, and jumping out of their seats for the same overtake. People whose lives might rarely intersect outside the circuit can spend an entire weekend bonding.
A person’s budget doesn’t tell you how much they love the sport.
Why I Love Formula 1: The People Are Part of the Experience
Barcelona, strangers helped each other through a chaotic exit. That part of the weekend stayed with me too.
In Spain, we got caught in the congestion of people trying to get onto the track while we were trying to leave. We ended up using a divider as a makeshift ladder to get over a fence.
It was chaotic. What stayed with me was how everyone helped each other get out.
In São Paulo, when I joined the crowd going onto the track, people around me made sure the little kids didn’t get crushed in the rush. Even in all that excitement, they were looking out for the children around them.
And the connections don’t end at the circuit.
On a flight back to Brazil, I made friends with a man about ten years older than me. He has three daughters and takes each of them individually to races. We talked for most of the flight.
That stayed with me. Each daughter gets her own trip with her dad, her own time with him, and memories they can share.
There we were, two people on a plane who found enough common ground through Formula 1to spend hours talking.
I feel that same connection at watch parties and car shows. We talk about the cars, the drivers, and the racing. People who might otherwise walk past each other suddenly have a reason to stop and talk.
Sometimes All It Takes Is a Pair of Ferrari Shoes
I don’t have to be at a circuit for Formula 1 to connect me with someone.
I own Ferrari, Red Bull, Mercedes, and McLaren gear, and I wear it a lot. I wear Ferrari Puma shoes to work every day.
People notice. A shirt, a logo, or a pair of shoes can start a conversation with someone I’ve never met.
It even helped me get invited to an invitation-only omakase experience. The person involved in arranging access had seen my Instagram and wanted to talk about Formula 1. That shared interest helped open the door.
That’s my world coming together: racing, food, and meeting people through something we both enjoy.
It doesn’t matter whether we support the same team. We already have something to talk about.
Even My NASCAR Customers Understand
I work at a Ford dealership in a very blue-collar area. A lot of my customers are big NASCAR and IndyCar fans. They love American cars and American racing, and they’re proud of it.
When I tell them I love Formula 1, they respect it. Would they rather get me watching more of the racing they follow? Absolutely.
But it gives us something to talk about. We can appreciate each other’s enthusiasm without having to choose the same favorite.
I understand their attachment to American racing. For me, the international side of Formula 1 is a huge part of the attraction.
I want to experience the world. I want to sit next to someone from another country, hear their story, and share a race weekend with them.
Formula 1 gives me a reason to do that.
One Driver, an Entire Team
The driver gets the spotlight. Look at how many people it takes to get that car ready.
A fast car is only one piece of the picture. This is a team sport.
What makes the racing exciting to me is how many people have to get things right.
The driver is an athlete competing against some of the best in the world, with someone in their ear helping them make decisions. Behind that driver are the mechanics, engineers, strategists, pit crew, and people back at the factory.
Then there’s everything happening with the car.
Tire temperature. Tire wear. Reliability. Setup. When to pit. When to push. When to hold something back.
The driver has to deliver while processing all of that. The team has to provide the equipment, information, and opportunities to make it possible.
Other sports depend on teamwork, too. What fascinates me about Formula 1 is how closely the human performance and engineering depend on each other.
One incorrectly secured wheel or one miscalculation can undo a weekend’s work.
A fast car can help win a race. A great driver can produce an extraordinary result. Winning a world championship takes a team delivering again and again across a season.
That’s why I have trouble with dismissing a driver’s success by saying, “They just have the best car.” Building, preparing, and extracting performance from that car is part of the competition.
The achievement belongs to more people than the person holding the trophy.
There is a whole team behind every lap.
Why I Relate to Max
I’m a Ferrari fan. Lewis Hamilton and Charles Leclerc are my drivers. But I’ve also become a huge Max Verstappen fan.
I can be a no-nonsense person in business and in life. That’s part of what I relate to in the way Max comes across. He’s direct, fiercely competitive, and sometimes an asshole about it. I can appreciate that personality.
Obviously, I don’t know him personally. But he strikes me as someone I could spend a night bullshitting with over drinks—gin and tonics, or preferably tequila for me.
Then he could beat my drunk ass on a simulator over and over again.
I’d love a chance at something like Max versus 100 in karts, too. The aggressive New York–New Jersey driver in me would want to give him a fight for position. Realistically, I suspect he’d be disappearing into the distance while I was still figuring out the first corner.
But that’s part of being a fan: imagining what it would be like to share the thing you love with someone who does it at a level you can barely comprehend.
I support Ferrari, and I still stop to watch what’s happening at Red Bull. Also a Red Bull and Max Fan…. Simply Lovely
Number 44 in Ferrari red. A garage I couldn’t walk past without looking.
I Was There for Both Comebacks
I was at Interlagos in 2024 when Max won from 17th on the grid.
I was there again in 2025 when he started from the pit lane and finished third.
Two different races. Two extraordinary recovery drives. I got to witness both in person. Formula 1’s São Paulo recap
Those are the races I’ll tell my grandnephews about. I’ll be able to say, “I was there.”
And now I’m going back in 2026.
I don’t know what this year’s race will bring. That’s part of the excitement. But I know how much it means to return to the place where I fell in love with the sport and the country.
Why I Love Formula 1: You Can Be Moved by Someone Else’s Win
Lewis Hamilton, George Russell and Lando Norris on the podium at the 2026 Barcelona Grand Prix. Seeing Hamilton up there in Ferrari red is a moment I’ll carry with me.
Lewis Hamilton, George Russell and Lando Norris sharing the stage at the 2026 Barcelona Grand Prix. Three teams, three talented drivers, and a sport I love.
In Barcelona in June 2026, I teared up watching Lewis win his first Grand Prix in Ferrari red. I was there for a moment I’ll always associate with that trip. FIA’s Barcelona race report
Then Kimi Antonelli won at Monza from 19th on the grid, becoming the first Italian to win there in 60 years, since Ludovico Scarfiotti in 1966. He was just 20 years old. Formula 1’s Monza report, Reuters
Would I have preferred Ferrari to win? Of course. It hurt a little that this Italian victory at Monza wasn’t in a red car. I would have loved a Max win, too.
But Kimi’s moment still touched me.
I respect Mercedes and McLaren. Kimi, George Russell, Lando Norris, and Oscar Piastri are talented drivers. Recognizing the strength of their cars doesn’t stop me from appreciating what they contribute.
I’ve also personally watched Max and Lewis go over to congratulate a winner after a long race. When you’ve spent all that time fighting for a result, acknowledging the person who beat you means something.
There are rivalries, tempers, and disagreements. Of course there are. But I’ve seen respect alongside them.
I can want my drivers to win and still feel something when someone else achieves an extraordinary result.
Learning About the Greats
The more history I read, the more I appreciate the different qualities that make a great driver.
Michael Schumacher is a perfect example of what I mean about teamwork. Seven world championships tell you about his results. His relationship with Ferrari tells you about his leadership.
He spent time at the factory, worked closely with engineers, encouraged the people around him, and set an example through his preparation. Alongside the team’s leadership and technical staff, he helped build an extraordinary period of Ferrari success. Schumacher’s career
Ayrton Senna brings another dimension: intensity, commitment, and skill in difficult conditions. His second-place drive in the rain at Monaco in 1984, racing for the small Toleman team, showed his ability before he became a three-time world champion.
What stands out to me in his approach is the belief in his abilities and the relentless desire to improve. That’s my interpretation of what I’m learning about him: someone who took his talent seriously and kept asking how much further he could go. Senna’s career and approach
Niki Lauda returned to racing just six weeks after his near-fatal accident in 1976 and went on to win two more championships. Later, he helped bring Lewis Hamilton to Mercedes. His influence continued long after he stopped driving. Lauda’s life and career
Jackie Stewart won three world championships and used his position to fight for a safer sport. Looking after the people who race alongside you, and those who will come after you, is a legacy worth respecting. Stewart’s contribution
And remarkable comeback drives didn’t begin with the drivers I follow today. John Watson won from 22nd at Long Beach in 1983. Rubens Barrichello took his first F1 victory for Ferrari from 18th in Germany in 2000. Kimi Räikkönen won from 17th in Japan in 2005, taking the lead on the final lap. Formula 1’s historic comeback victories
I’m still learning these stories. That’s part of the enjoyment. Every one gives me another reason to appreciate what I’m watching now.
Why I Love Formula 1: I Found Athletes Whose Minds Interest Me
I never really idolized athletes growing up.
The people who caught my attention were people like Warren Buffett, Steve Jobs, and Bill Gates. I was interested in how they thought, what they built, and how they made decisions.
Formula 1 gave me athletes whose minds interested me as much as their physical abilities.
A driver has to process what the car is doing and explain it clearly enough for engineers to act on it, while competing at extraordinary speed. That combination of concentration, judgment, and communication fascinates me.
Then you learn about their lives outside the cockpit.
Charles Leclerc plays piano and composes music. He released Dreamers, a collaboration with pianist Sofiane Pamart. That’s another side of someone I already enjoy watching race. Charles’s music
Nico Rosberg turned down a place to study aeronautical engineering at Imperial College London to pursue racing. He also achieved the highest score recorded at the time on Williams’s engineering aptitude test. Rosberg’s background
You don’t need a university degree to be intelligent. What interests me is how many different abilities these people bring to their lives and their work.
What They Give Back Matters
These drivers live extraordinary lives. There’s money, luxury, travel, and access most people will never experience. I enjoy that side of Formula 1, too.
I also respect what they choose to give back.
Senna’s legacy includes his concern for opportunities for children in Brazil. The Instituto Ayrton Senna carries that forward through work supporting public education, educators, and young people’s development. His name continues to mean something beyond the races he won. Instituto Ayrton Senna
That’s something I admire about Lewis Hamilton, too. I can get emotional watching Lewis win in Ferrari red and also respect what he’s building outside racing.
Through Mission 44, the charity he founded, he supports efforts to help young people overcome barriers in education and employment. His own experiences helped shape that mission: creating opportunities for people who might otherwise be overlooked. Mission 44
Max has supported Wings for Life, which funds spinal cord injury research, including through charity memorabilia auctions. A helmet auction is one documented example of turning the demand for something connected to him into support for that work. Wings for Life
Sebastian Vettel has worked to expand opportunities for women in karting through Race 4 Women. Helping people find a way into the sport is a contribution I appreciate. Vettel’s work
Lando Norris, the reigning world champion, announced LN4 Fusion and a funded young-driver development programme in September 2026. The programme is intended to provide financial support, coaching, and guidance. Running a team is a business, but helping young talent overcome financial barriers is still worth recognizing. Reuters’ report
Lando has also spoken openly about his own mental-health struggles through Mind. That work predates his championship. I respect someone who lets people see that success and self-doubt can exist in the same person. Lando’s words for Mind
We don’t see every private act of generosity. I won’t pretend to know everything these drivers do away from the cameras. The work we can see gives me plenty to admire.
And the next generation is already developing. Kimi Räikkönen’s 11-year-old son, Robin, has signed with Red Bull’s driver development programme, with his involvement officially beginning in 2027. He’s still a kid in karting, with his own path ahead of him, but the possibility of watching another Räikkönen work toward Formula 1 is exciting. Formula 1’s announcement
Someday, my grandnephews might be telling me about the drivers they follow. I’ll have my own stories to share.
Ferrari Opened the Door. The Whole Sport’s Heritage Keeps Me Interested.
The more I learn, the more I appreciate the history beyond Ferrari.
Lotus deserves a place in that conversation. Colin Chapman’s team combined talented drivers with engineering ideas that changed the sport. Seven Constructors’ Championships demonstrate its success; its pioneering ground-effect work shows its influence. Drivers including Jim Clark, Graham Hill, Emerson Fittipaldi, and Mario Andretti became world champions in Lotus cars. Lotus’s heritage, Its engineering influence
McLaren began with Bruce McLaren establishing his own team in 1963. Decades later, people are still working, racing, and winning under his name. McLaren’s heritage
Some of today’s teams also have histories you wouldn’t guess from the name on the garage.
The modern Mercedes operation’s ownership lineage runs through Tyrrell, BAR, Honda, and Brawn GP. Brawn competed for one season in 2009 and won both championships before becoming Mercedes.
Today’s Aston Martin operation traces its roots through Jordan, Midland, Spyker, Force India, and Racing Point.
And here’s a connection I particularly appreciate working at a Ford dealership: Red Bull’s operation began as Ford-backed Stewart Grand Prix before becoming Jaguar Racing under Ford’s ownership. Red Bull took over and began racing under its own name in 2005. Formula 1’s team histories
Learning those connections changes how I look at the grid. Behind a team can be decades of ambition, difficult seasons, new owners, breakthroughs, and people determined to keep racing.
The same happens when I read about a circuit. Knowing what happened there gives the place meaning before I even arrive.
When Ferrari’s Cars Became a Gesture of Respect
Sometimes a team’s most memorable gesture has nothing to do with winning.
At Monza in September 2001, just five days after the attacks in the United States, Ferrari removed its sponsor logos and painted the noses of its cars black. Michael Schumacher and Rubens Barrichello raced those cars as a tribute to the victims. The story of Ferrari’s tribute
An Italian team, at its home Grand Prix, made a visible gesture of mourning for people across the Atlantic.
That means something to me.
In a sport surrounded by advertising, prestige, and celebration, those cars expressed grief and respect. It’s another part of the history that helps me understand why people form such deep attachments to these teams.
I Love Hospitality. I’m Beginning to Prefer the Grandstands: Why I Love the Grandstand Experience
I’ve paid for paddock access and hospitality. I enjoy those experiences.
I like air conditioning. I like comfortable seats. Put me at a hot circuit for an entire weekend and I will absolutely appreciate somewhere cool to sit down.
I’ve also found that even the higher-end hospitality crowd, which can sometimes feel stuffy in other settings, loosens up around Formula 1. There’s a race to discuss, a driver to cheer for, or a strategy decision everyone has an opinion on.
That shared interest makes conversation easier.
But I’m beginning to prefer the grandstands.
I love being around the other fans. The conversations, the camaraderie, the shared excitement. I also get to experience something of the country through the people who call it home.
I can’t always afford tickets costing $10,000, $20,000, or $30,000. And the more races I attend, the more I realize that the grandstands give me something I actively want.
You don’t need a hospitality package to feel part of Formula 1. I’ve experienced that in Sector G at Interlagos and seen it among the fans watching from the grass in Barcelona.
There are different ways to experience a race at different budgets. Travel still takes planning, and affordability varies from person to person. But the most expensive ticket doesn’t buy you more passion.
I’ve experienced F1 travel on different budgets, and the most expensive ticket hasn’t always given me the best memories.
Even between sessions, I could spend hours taking this place in.
Half the experience is everything—and everyone—you find between sessions.
These were the seats I loved: a view of the track and a whole weekend of people to meet.
The people I went to Barcelona with were counting rows, working out where we should sit next time to get more shade.
I understood what they were doing. But my reaction was: fuck that, I loved our seats.
We were in the second row of the grandstand’s second level. There was only one row of people in front of us. I wanted a view of the track, a screen if possible, and a fun trip wrapped around the race.
I’ll sweat in the Spanish summer sun for that.
And I made the most of being there. I walked more than 12 miles on each of those days. There was roughly a two-mile walk to the circuit, and I spent hours walking around once I was inside.
When the cars weren’t running, I was exploring. Looking around the circuit, checking out different areas, and taking in the people and atmosphere.
I loved that part just as much.
What I particularly enjoyed in Barcelona was how much of the spectator grounds I could explore with my ticket. Compared with my experience in São Paulo, I had much more freedom to wander. That didn’t mean access to the paddock or every restricted area, but it gave me a lot to discover beyond my own seat.
For me, a race weekend includes all of that. I want to watch the racing, walk around, meet people, and experience the place.
The circuit, the crowd, the city. This is the view I keep coming back for.
Turning My Passion into Grand Prix Travel Planning: I Tried to Build a São Paulo Group Trip. It Didn’t Happen.
I’ve tried to turn this passion into something I can share with other people.
I put together a high-end São Paulo trip built around Formula 1. I wanted to bring a group there and show them the city, the food, the culture, and the people who made me fall in love with it.
I failed at that attempt, and I’m not going to pretend otherwise. But I’m not stopping. I still offer that trip and help planning it.
Along the way, I’ve been able to plan trips for people to Montreal, Texas, São Paulo, Barcelona, Monza, and a few other circuits. Even without bringing a whole group to Brazil, I’ve helped people experience the sport and the destinations around it.
Now I’m reworking and rebranding what I offer. My goal is eventually to help people travel to every race, with options across a much wider range of budgets.
Give me a $2,000 budget or a $200,000 budget, and I want to explore what’s possible. Those are very different trips. The race, departure point, flights, and number of travelers will determine what works.
I won’t promise every race fits every budget. I want to find the opportunities.
I know what a beautiful hotel and a hospitality suite can add to a weekend. I also know what it feels like to stand in Sector G in a plastic poncho and have the experience change your life.
I want to help other people find their version of that.
Spain Was Amazing. I Also Spent Way Too Much.
My personal goal is to return to São Paulo for the race every year and visit at least one other circuit.
Family, finances, and schedules will have a say. I won’t always be able to do everything I want. But I’ll do what I can.
This year, I had an amazing nine days in Spain. I ate at incredible restaurants, explored some great places, and experienced a race weekend I’ll never forget.
I also spent way too much money. If I put the total here, plenty of people would think I’d lost my mind.
The race tickets were less than €1,000. I spent more than that at the track on helmets and souvenirs alone.
That’s worth admitting in a conversation about Formula 1 travel. The race ticket wasn’t what sent my spending through the roof. My choices did.
The restaurants, shopping, and extras were things I wanted. They weren’t requirements for enjoying the race.
I spent enough that I nearly had to miss Brazil.
At one point, I was prepared to go to São Paulo and watch the race on television. I wanted my feet on the ground in a city I love, feeling the energy of race weekend, even if I couldn’t get to the circuit.
But I worked my ass off and made it happen. I’m going.
Live the Fuck Out of Life as You Can
If I want more race weekends, I can make different spending decisions—or find ways to make more money.
Honestly, I prefer the second option.
That’s how I’ve approached most of my life. I’ve worked my ass off, sometimes way too much. Now I want that work to fund something I love. Hopefully, I can build a way to earn a living through that passion, too.
Over the last five years, Formula 1, travel, and food have changed what I want.
I’m less interested in accumulating possessions, buying a bigger house, or owning more land. I want time in places I haven’t been. Meals I’ll remember. Race weekends with people I haven’t met yet.
You can’t take any of this with you. But while you’re here?
Live the fuck out of life as you can.
“As you can” matters. I have family responsibilities, bills, a job, and limits like everyone else. Some years will allow more than others. I want to make the most of the opportunities I do have, while working toward more.
Learning about Senna’s commitment and seeing Hamilton use his success to create opportunities makes me think about what I want to do with my own life.
I’m not comparing planning someone’s vacation to changing access to education. But I understand the desire to take something that matters to you and make it useful to someone else.
For me, that can start with helping someone experience a race, discover a country, or feel confident taking a trip they’ve been putting off.
And it starts with allowing myself to live, too.
Sometimes that means a beautiful hotel and an incredible dinner. Sometimes it means sweating in a grandstand, walking miles around a circuit, or dancing in the mud with people whose language I don’t speak.
I’ve felt completely alive doing all of those things.
I’m 44. My goal is to spend three to five weeks a year traveling internationally and grow that over time. Local exploring is something I can do on weekends. I want more opportunities to experience other countries and continents.
If I had work I could do from anywhere, I’d love to follow the calendar and attend every race. I’d even stay in hostels to make it happen.
Private room and private bathroom, of course. Let’s not get carried away.
I still prefer a nice hotel.
Eventually, I’d love a life where home is a small base: somewhere to keep my seasonal clothes, recharge for a weekend or a week, and prepare for the next trip.
I may have to keep working for the rest of my life. I hope I can make that work something I love, something that brings me closer to the experiences I want.
I don’t want to keep postponing them until some perfect future when I finally have enough money or enough free time.
Something Worth Carrying Forever
I don’t have any tattoos.
I could never think of something I wanted on my body forever. I don’t have children. I could definitely see myself getting a tattoo of the pets who have meant so much to me, but until now, I haven’t taken that step.
Now I want to start marking the places and experiences that have become part of my life.
Flags of countries I’ve visited. The outlines of circuits where I’ve attended races. Something I can look at and remember being there.
Maybe a 44, for Lewis Hamilton and the age when I really began to understand the man I’ve become. Maybe a 3, for Max and the relentless competitive mentality I relate to. Maybe Senna’s helmet or Schumacher’s.
I’m still deciding what those tattoos will look like. But for the first time, I have things I want to carry that way.
One Senna quote that speaks to me is:
“I have no idols. I admire work, dedication and competence.”
That wording appears in McLaren’s tribute to him. It puts into words something I’ve been trying to explain about the people I admire: the work, the ability, and the commitment behind their achievements. McLaren’s Senna tribute
His insistence on giving something your full effort resonates with me, too. I believe in my abilities. I also believe I can improve, and I intend to keep finding out how much further I can go.
About ten years ago, I took a step back in my career to build my property management and cleaning company.
That business has been doing well, and it no longer needs me to be as involved in the day-to-day work. That gives me a choice about where I put my time and energy next.
I could pursue the same kinds of positions I held before. I know what it takes to build a successful operation because I’ve done it.
Instead, I’m choosing to build my Formula 1, travel, and food blog into a career because I truly love it.
The results may take longer. The money may be less immediate. But I want to put my experience, intelligence, and drive into something I’m excited to keep building—something that brings together racing, travel, food, hospitality, and helping other people experience the world.
There will still be hard work. I’m comfortable with that. What’s different is how much I want to do this work and where I hope it will take me.
That’s why “Live the fuck out of life as you can” means so much to me. I’ve spent years building businesses and a career. Now I want to use what I’ve learned to build a life around the things I love.
A flag or a circuit outline would remind me of somewhere I actually went. People I met. A weekend I made happen. A moment when I felt fully present.
For years, I couldn’t think of anything I wanted on my body forever.
Now I’m building a life full of things I don’t want to forget.
Sometimes I wish I’d discovered this passion in my teens. Maybe I would have made different career decisions. Maybe my life would have taken a completely different direction.
But working at Ferrari helped bring me here. So did the people I met, the jobs I held, and the trips I eventually took.
The life I’ve lived made me the person who appreciates all of this today.
I wish I’d found it earlier. I don’t regret the life that led me to it.
Now I want to keep going for as long as I can. Another race. Another country. Another continent.
Maybe another planet.
Hopefully Elon gets Formula 1 to Mars before I die. It doesn’t even have to be cars. I’ll watch them race space shuttles.
Just give me a grandstand and some people who love it as much as I do.
And until then, I’ll keep trying to get back to São Paulo—to the place where strangers made room for me under a tent and helped turn an interest into a passion.
Our sport. Our passion. Our people.
Ponchos on. Nobody was done enjoying the weekend. Our sport. Our passion. Our people.
Follow my Instagram A Vision for the Future of Grand Prix Hospitality The Opportunity Over the past several years, I’ve traveled to Formula 1 destinations around the world—not simply to attend races, but to experience the cities that host them. Long before I purchase a race ticket, I’m researching restaurants, cocktail bars, hotels, neighborhoods, architecture, […]
How the 2024 São Paulo Grand Prix Made Me Fall in Love with Travel My São Paulo travel story For more than twenty years, my life revolved around one thing: the automotive business. Long hours. Endless weekends. Sales goals. Deliveries. Finance paperwork. It was a career I genuinely loved, but it didn’t leave much room […]
Formula 1 Luxury Travel at a Glance The race is the reason I book. The city is why I want to return. For me, the best Grand Prix trips combine the atmosphere at the circuit with memorable meals, a hotel that suits the weekend and enough time to explore. My firsthand perspective: São Paulo and […]
Drowned Lands Brewery review: I usually order cocktails or wine. Before my first visit, I hadn’t really had a beer in years outside of a sporting event. Drowned Lands in Warwick changed that—and I’ve been back since my original September 6, 2026 visit. The beer got my attention, but the food has given me plenty of reasons to return.
But the food gave me just as much reason to go back.
The bavette steak toast was amazing, with meat so tender it became one of the standouts of the meal. The pizzas were right there with it. I grew up on New York City and northern New Jersey pizza, and this was good enough to make me think about driving out of my way after work to pick up a few pies.
The staff stayed friendly and attentive even with the place packed. And while the beer line regularly stretched 10–20 people deep, it moved quickly.
My verdict: Drowned Lands is one of the places in the Hudson Valley I think you need to try.
The original review photos are from September 6, 2026. Four additional photos appear in the return-visit section below.
Drowned Lands Brewery in Warwick, New York. A closer look at the brewery entrance.
A Brewery That Got a Cocktail-and-Wine Drinker’s Attention
Beer is rarely my first choice these days. Drowned Lands got my attention anyway.
Deep Terra—the beer I particularly enjoyed at Drowned Lands.
Deep Terra was my favorite. I liked it enough to keep coming back to it, but I also enjoyed Loam and Acacia. I wasn’t ordering beer simply because I happened to be at a brewery. I was enjoying what was in my glass.
The menu at my visit listed Deep Terra as an 8.2% double IPA and Acacia as a fruited sour IPA. My afternoon covered more ground than I would normally expect from a beer outing, especially considering how long it had been since I’d ordered beer just because I wanted one.
I’m not going to pretend I suddenly became a beer expert. What I can say is that their beer impressed someone who normally reaches for something else—and made me want to return.
They also sell canned beer to take home, so if you find a favorite, you can bring some with you.
Rooted in the land
Drowned Lands describes itself as a farm brewery built around the land it calls home. Its philosophy centers on terroir: how the environment helps shape what ends up in your glass.
For them, that means the mineral character of the local water, seasonal agriculture, and the microbes involved in their house mixed-culture fermentation. Their approach combines traditional techniques with modern brewing, including the use of large oak fermentation vessels called foeders.
As someone who usually drinks wine or cocktails, I find that connection interesting. It gives me another way to think about the beer beyond its style. There’s a place and a process behind it.
Their invitation to “slow down and stay awhile” fits the experience. Between the food, beer, and patio, staying awhile came pretty easily.
After my visit, I can see why they’re getting noticed. The beer impressed me, the food gave me reasons to return, and the staff backed it up with friendly, attentive hospitality.
The Bavette Steak Toast Was a Standout
Bavette Steak Toast with balsamic-marinated beef, heirloom tomatoes, pickled shallots and basil.
The bavette steak toast was amazing. The meat was so tender, and it is one of the first dishes I think about when I look back at what we ate.
The September menu described balsamic-marinated beef, heirloom tomato bruschetta, pickled shallots, fresh basil, and toasted sourdough. At $28 when I visited, it needed to deliver more than a good description.
For me, it did.
I would happily order it again, even with other things on the menu I still want to try. That matters because I left with a growing list of reasons to come back.
Here, I wanted to place another food order because I wanted to see what else the kitchen could do.
Pizza Good Enough to Drive Out of My Way For
I grew up on New York City and northern New Jersey pizza, and I consider myself a pizza snob. A lot of Hudson Valley pizzerias disappoint me. There are plenty of brick-oven places up here, too, so having that oven alone doesn’t impress me. What comes out of it has to deliver.
Drowned Lands came through.
We had the Hometown Fav and the pepperoni pizza, and both were great. Alongside the bavette steak toast, the pizzas were a highlight of the meal.
The Hometown Fav combines tomato, fresh mozzarella, pepperoni, bacon, sweet Italian sausage, pickled jalapeño, and scallion. There is plenty happening with the toppings, but what stood out across both pizzas was the foundation: the dough and the brick-oven cooking were on point.
That is where pizza has to start for me. The toppings can sound as good as they want on a menu; I still need to enjoy eating the crust.
Stones in Wappingers, Blooming Hill Farm, and Rossi Pizzette are already on my Hudson Valley pizza favorites list. Drowned Lands now belongs in that conversation.
On the September menu, the Hometown Fav was $24 and the pepperoni was $21. Both gave me something I would want to eat again.
After that first meal, I said the pizza was good enough to drive out of my way after work for a few pies. Since then, I’ve ordered pizzas to take home. The Hometown Fav, mushroom, and pepperoni pizzas are my favorites. That probably tells you more than another paragraph of pizza adjectives.
I brought the remaining pepperoni pizza home and finished it that evening. Apparently, I wasn’t done with it after all.
Pepperoni pizza with tomato, fresh mozzarella and fresh basil.Hometown Fav—pepperoni, bacon, sweet Italian sausage, pickled jalapeños and scallions.
Regional ingredients and dough made with brewer’s yeast
Drowned Lands names the farms, growers, and food producers it works with. That gives some substance to its emphasis on regional sourcing.
The list includes Quaker Creek in Goshen, Brooklyn Brine Co. and No Trend//Foods in Warwick, and New Jersey producers including Inner Love, Emily’s Hearth, and Kittatinny Mountain Farms.
Other listed partners include Taiim Hummus, Nettle Meadow Farm, Salumeria Biellese, RI Mushroom Co., North Country Smokehouse, and Gotham Greens.
The kitchen also says all its bread and dough is fermented in-house with hand-selected brewer’s yeast, and all dressings are made from scratch.
The dough detail is particularly relevant because that was already one of my favorite things about the pizzas. Knowing how they make it adds something to the story. Eating it is what made me want another slice.
A Good Pretzel, a Demolished Dessert, and First-Visit Sellouts
The sourdough pretzel was good, too. The menu paired it with Gather House beer cheese and Dijonnaise—a fitting addition to an afternoon at a brewery.
My dining partner had the chocolate-chip cheesecake cookie skillet and absolutely demolished it. I’ll leave that verdict with the person who ate it, but there wasn’t much ambiguity in the response.
On my first visit, I also wanted the wings. By the time I got around to my second food order, they were sold out. I’ve since tried them: decent, though the pizzas remain my favorites.
The grill had sold out of brisket as well. Naturally, that made me curious, although a sellout doesn’t tell me how it tastes. I still haven’t tried the grill, so that part of the menu remains on my list.
I still want to see what the grill is serving on a future visit. Brisket and pulled pork are things I would look for, rather than dishes I can recommend from experience yet.
Sourdough pretzel with Gather House beer cheese and dijonnaise.Warm chocolate chip cookie skillet with vanilla bean cheesecake filling and dark chocolate sauce.
Since My First Visit: More Pizza, Wings, and Oyster Party
I’ve been back since that original September visit, so this is no longer just a place I said I would return to. I had another pretzel, tried the fries—which were good—and finally got to the wings. The wings were decent. I’m glad I tried them, but the pizzas are still what I’m most enthusiastic about.
The Hometown Fav, mushroom, and pepperoni pizzas have become my favorites, and I’ve ordered them to take home as well. On my first visit, I talked about driving out of my way for the pizza. Ordering it again is a better endorsement than simply saying I might.
Another pretzel, good fries, and decent wings on a return visit to Drowned Lands.Taking Drowned Lands pizza home. The Hometown Fav, mushroom, and pepperoni pizzas are my favorites.
Oyster Party was there, too
Oyster Party was there during a return visit, and I had lobster rolls and oysters. I really like Oyster Party. I’d had their food at the Yes Chef Food Festival and had also visited their place in Hudson, so they were already familiar to me before this stop at Drowned Lands.
That was part of my experience on that visit, not a promise that Oyster Party will be there whenever you go. If you are hoping to catch a particular guest vendor, check the brewery’s current event information first.
Oysters and lobster rolls from Oyster Party, who were there during my return visit.A return visit to Drowned Lands with my LORZOR wallet along for the day. Disclosure: LORZOR provided the wallet shown in this photo.
The grill is still the missing piece for me. I’ve now tried the wings and added more pizza to the favorites list, but I haven’t tried the grill yet. I’ll keep that distinction clear rather than recommend something I haven’t eaten.
A Busy Afternoon, With Hospitality That Stood Out
Drowned Lands was busy. There were adults enjoying food, beer, and wine, along with plenty of families eating together while the parents enjoyed a drink.
I wish I had taken more pictures of the crowd, because that was part of the experience. The mix of people tells you something about the appeal: you don’t have to be deeply interested in craft beer to find a reason to come here. The food gave our visit plenty of substance on its own.
There was live music on the patio during my visit, too, which added another reason to settle in.
The property has its own backstory. The brewery occupies part of the former Mid-Orange Correctional Facility campus, where a substantial renovation created the present tasting room and outdoor spaces. It’s an interesting transformation behind somewhere people now come to spend an afternoon together.
Counter service with actual hospitality
You order beer at the bar and receive it as you order. The line was almost always around 10–20 people long, but it moved quickly.
Food works a little differently. Place your order at the food counter and take a small pager—the kind you might recognize from waiting for a table at a chain restaurant. Here, it lets you know when your freshly prepared food is ready to collect.
The bar where you order your beer at Drowned Lands.
There are places to return your dishes and glasses, so the setup looks largely self-service. Yet whenever I finished a beer or a dish, someone seemed to be there offering to clear it.
That attention stood out, especially with so many people around.
The staff were smiling, friendly, and available to answer questions. You might place your own order at a counter, but you still felt looked after.
Takeout boxes were readily available as well. It was easy to pack up what I couldn’t finish without having to track someone down.
These are small things, but they make a busy place easier to enjoy. Good hospitality can show up in a brewery just as clearly as it does in a restaurant with full table service.
Planning a Visit to Drowned Lands in Warwick
Drowned Lands is at 251 State School Road in Warwick, New York. I would plan around the food as much as the beer. The pizzas and steak toast were not an afterthought during my afternoon here, and the kitchen is a large part of why I want to come back.
Before making the trip, check the official kitchen menu and current tap list. The brewery currently notes an abbreviated menu on Mondays. Dishes, beer selections, and grill offerings can change, so use my meals here as firsthand experiences rather than a promise that every item will be available.
For current hours, use the brewery’s official website. If you are visiting specifically for an event, check its individual details for timing, tickets, or any reservation requirements before setting out.
Check the calendar before you go
The official taproom events calendar is the best place to see what is coming up. You can come simply for beer and food, or choose a date around something else that interests you. After enjoying their pizza, a pizza workshop is the kind of event I would look for—but I would check the live calendar rather than plan around an old listing.
My first visit also showed why it is worth ordering a must-try dish sooner rather than later. Both the wings and brisket sold out before I could try them that afternoon. I have since tried the wings, but not the grill. I still would not assume everything will be available when I go back for a second order.
The parking area at Drowned Lands Brewery in Warwick.
Drowned Lands Brewery Review: Is It Worth It?
For me, yes.
During my September visit, with the steak toast listed at $28 and our pizzas at $21 and $24, I wanted food that justified the prices. I enjoyed what those dishes delivered. The tender steak toast and the pizzas were the food standouts, and the pizza earned a place among my Hudson Valley favorites.
The beer impressed someone who usually drinks cocktails and wine. Deep Terra was my favorite, and I enjoyed exploring Loam and Acacia, too.
Then there was the service. Even with a packed property and a steady line at the bar, the staff stayed friendly, answered questions, and offered to clear dishes. That helped make the whole visit work.
I’ve followed through on wanting to return, and I’ve ordered pizzas to take home. The Hometown Fav, mushroom, and pepperoni are my favorites. The fries were good, the wings were decent, and I enjoyed having Oyster Party there on a return visit. I still need to try the grill.
Drowned Lands is one of those Hudson Valley places I’m happy to recommend—and now that recommendation includes going back, trying more of the food, and taking the pizza home. The steak toast and pizzas made the first impression. The pizza has kept me coming back.
For another Hudson Valley spot where the food and hospitality delivered, read my BLACKBARN Hudson Valley review, covering brunch overlooking Esopus Falls in Saugerties.
This review combines my original September 6, 2026 visit with subsequent firsthand experiences. Quoted prices and the original review photos are from the September visit. The return-visit section adds four later photos and my subsequent food experiences; Oyster Party’s presence describes that visit only. Menus, taps, guest vendors, hours, and events can change. Check current information before traveling.
BLACKBARN Hudson Valley at a Glance Location: Diamond Mills, 25 South Partition Street, Saugerties, New YorkCuisine: Seasonal American and farm-to-table diningExperience: Weekend brunch overlooking Esopus FallsPrice: Upscale brunch pricing—especially when you enjoy a cocktail or fourWhat I ordered: Strawberry and banana bruschetta, loaded tater tots, kale Caesar salad, spicy watermelon salad, shrimp and grits, lobster […]
The Modern NYC Review: Inside a two-Michelin-starred meal beside MoMA, where caviar, truffles, sculptural plates—and one very strange spoon—made fine dining feel less formal than expected. The Modern at a Glance Location: 9 West 53rd Street, beside the Museum of Modern Art in Midtown Manhattan Cuisine: Contemporary American fine dining Price during my visit: The […]
Three handmade pastas, Sicilian influence, and a front-row dinner with Chef Matthew “Rabbit” McCormick in Wayne, New Jersey By Richard JarockiAugust 13, 2026 Viaggio Ristorante at a Glance Location: 1055 Hamburg Turnpike, Wayne, New Jersey Price during my visit: The chef’s-counter tasting menu cost $110 per person during my August 2, 2026 visit. Viaggio is […]
Location: Diamond Mills, 25 South Partition Street, Saugerties, New York Cuisine: Seasonal American and farm-to-table dining Experience: Weekend brunch overlooking Esopus Falls Price: Upscale brunch pricing—especially when you enjoy a cocktail or four What I ordered: Strawberry and banana bruschetta, loaded tater tots, kale Caesar salad, spicy watermelon salad, shrimp and grits, lobster roll, and matcha and black sesame sundae Standout dishes: Strawberry and banana bruschetta, spicy watermelon salad, shrimp and grits, and matcha and black sesame sundae Drinks: Creative cocktails with excellent, attentive beverage service Reservations: Recommended; outdoor patio seating is first-come, first-served and weather permitting Date visited: August 2026 My verdict: A genuinely good Hudson Valley meal with fresh ingredients, strong service and a setting that does not have to compensate for the food
BLACKBARN Hudson Valley Review: Farm-to-Table Dining That Delivers
This BLACKBARN Hudson Valley review covers a farm-to-table brunch with creative cocktails, attentive service and a patio overlooking Esopus Falls in Saugerties.
I am going to be honest: many Hudson Valley restaurants disappoint me. The setting may be beautiful and the ingredients may be described as local, but the food and service do not always live up to the prices—or the hype.
BLACKBARN Saugerties was different. It delivered one of the better Hudson Valley brunch experiences I have had recently, combining fresh regional ingredients with reliable service and a genuinely impressive setting.
The setting may be beautiful, the ingredients may be described as local and the dining room may photograph well, but the food and service do not always live up to the prices—or the hype. Too many restaurants seem to believe that a rustic building, a scenic view and the words “farm-to-table” are enough.
They are not.
BLACKBARN Hudson Valley was better than the average Hudson Valley restaurant. This outpost of BLACKBARN NoMad in New York City brought more than a recognizable name to Saugerties. It combined locally sourced ingredients, creative cooking, attentive service and a spectacular waterfall setting to deliver a genuinely good meal.
The quick verdict: The view may get you through the door, but the fresh food, cocktails and attentive service make BLACKBARN Hudson Valley worth returning to.
The entrance to BLACKBARN Hudson Valley at Diamond Mills.
From New York City to the Hudson Valley
Among Saugerties restaurants, BLACKBARN stands out because it combines the experience of its New York City sister restaurant with a distinctly regional approach.
BLACKBARN Hudson Valley opened at Diamond Mills in 2023 as the sister restaurant to BLACKBARN NoMad in Manhattan.
Both restaurants were created by chef and owner John Doherty, whose career includes three decades at the Waldorf Astoria in New York City. During that time, he led an enormous hotel kitchen operation and prepared meals for presidents, royalty and heads of state.
The Hudson Valley restaurant is led by Executive Chef Marcos Castro, a Culinary Institute of America graduate whose cooking emphasizes seasonal, local and sustainable ingredients.
Both BLACKBARN locations share a farm-to-table philosophy and some signature dishes, but the Saugerties restaurant gives the concept its own Hudson Valley identity.
That New York City connection raised my expectations. Plenty of restaurants open secondary locations and deliver a watered-down version of the original experience.
BLACKBARN Hudson Valley did not feel like one of them.
Dining Beside Esopus Falls
BLACKBARN is located inside Diamond Mills in Saugerties, with an outdoor patio overlooking Esopus Falls.
The outdoor patio overlooks Esopus Falls.Outdoor dining beside Esopus Falls at BLACKBARN Hudson Valley.Cocktails taste better when someone remembers to bring the next one.
It is an impressive setting, particularly when the weather cooperates. Sitting outside with a cocktail while the water rushes past certainly adds something to the experience.
However, waterfalls are not exactly rare in the Hudson Valley.
A restaurant cannot simply place a few tables beside one and expect the scenery to compensate for average food or inattentive service. The waterfall may get people through the door, but the kitchen and staff still have to give them a reason to return.
BLACKBARN did.
Local Sourcing With Substance Behind It
What distinguishes BLACKBARN from many farm-to-table restaurants in the Hudson Valley is its willingness to identify the farms and producers supplying its kitchen.
“Farm-to-table” has become one of the most overused phrases in dining. Every restaurant seems to use it, but relatively few identify the farms and producers supplying the kitchen.
BLACKBARN goes further by publishing a detailed list of its regional partners. According to the restaurant, it sources meat, seafood, produce, eggs, cheese and dairy from farms and producers throughout the Hudson Valley, New York and the Northeast.
Its published suppliers include:
Feather Ridge Farms in Elizaville for organic brown eggs
Hepworth Farms in Milton for tomatoes, peppers and eggplant
Dressel Farms in New Paltz for apples, berries and honey
Wallkill View Farm in New Paltz for seasonal vegetables
Ronnybrook Farm Dairy in Pine Plains for butter, cream, milk and sour cream
Hudson Valley Cattle Company for grass-fed beef
Catsmo Artisan Smokehouse in Wallkill for smoked salmon and trout
The Kayla Marie fishing boat in Maine for lobster
Naturally, menus and individual ingredients can change with the season. That is part of what authentic farm-to-table cooking should involve.
The larger point is that BLACKBARN has developed real relationships with regional producers instead of using “local” as an empty marketing phrase.
More importantly, that commitment translated to the plate. The salads were bright, the fruit tasted fresh and the menu felt appropriate for a summer afternoon in the Hudson Valley.
What I Ate at BLACKBARN Hudson Valley
Strawberry and Banana Bruschetta
The fresh strawberry and banana bruschetta was an unexpected brunch highlight.
The strawberry and banana bruschetta was one of the most unexpected dishes of the meal.
Fruit on bruschetta could easily become overly sweet or gimmicky, but this worked. It was fresh, colorful and different from the predictable appetizers found on most brunch menus.
This was also the kind of simple dish where the quality of the ingredients mattered. Poor fruit would have immediately exposed itself, but everything tasted bright and intentional.
Loaded Tater Tots
Crispy, indulgent and exactly what loaded tater tots should be.
The loaded tater tots were exactly what a brunch appetizer should be: crispy, indulgent and made for sharing.
They were not attempting to reinvent anything. They were simply satisfying and properly executed.
Not every plate needs a complicated story. Sometimes people want good loaded tater tots with their cocktails.
Kale Caesar Salad
The kale Caesar was substantial without becoming unnecessarily heavy.
The kale Caesar tasted as fresh as it looked. The kale was crisp, vibrant and sturdy enough to hold the creamy, savory dressing without becoming soggy. There was enough dressing to coat the greens properly, but not so much that it overwhelmed their natural flavor or texture.
The quality of the vegetables was noticeable. Everything tasted clean and fresh, with the kind of crunch that separates a well-made salad from something added to the menu as an obligation. This felt like a considered part of the meal and another example of BLACKBARN’s focus on quality, locally sourced produce.
Spicy Watermelon Salad
Sweet watermelon and fresh vegetables with enough heat to make the salad memorable.
The spicy watermelon salad was especially appropriate for a summer meal outside.
The sweetness of the watermelon and the heat worked well together, making it refreshing without being forgettable. It was another dish that demonstrated how BLACKBARN uses fresh produce to create something more interesting than a generic side salad.
The Main Courses
Shrimp and Grits
The shrimp and grits delivered the richer, more comforting side of brunch.
The shrimp and grits delivered the richer, more comforting side of brunch.
It was flavorful, filling and substantial enough to follow the lighter starters. It provided a nice contrast to the fruit- and vegetable-driven dishes that began the meal.
Lobster Roll
A generously filled lobster roll served with crispy potato chips.
The lobster roll was another strong choice and felt perfectly suited to an outdoor meal beside the water.
BLACKBARN identifies the Kayla Marie fishing boat in Maine among its lobster sources. The restaurant did not bury the lobster beneath unnecessary ingredients, allowing the seafood to remain the focus.
Taken together, the appetizers, salads and main courses demonstrated that the kitchen could balance lighter seasonal dishes with the indulgent food people actually want during brunch.
Nothing felt as though it had been created only to look good in a photograph. The dishes tasted as good as they appeared.
Cocktails and Service That Did Not Disappear
A lobster roll, house-made chips and another cocktail on the outdoor patio.A bright, refreshing salad suited to summer dining beside the waterfall.
The service deserves as much credit as the food.
We chose to sit outside and were the only guests dining in that area. At many restaurants, that is when you risk becoming invisible. Once the staff goes back inside, finding someone to order another drink—or even obtain the check—can become a project.
That did not happen here.
The team checked on us regularly, and we never felt forgotten or rushed. My cocktail was never actually empty before someone asked whether I wanted another.
Yes, I enjoy a cocktail—or four. Before anyone asks, I was not driving.
It may sound like a small detail, but attentive beverage service is one of the easiest ways to determine whether a restaurant is paying attention.
Too many Hudson Valley restaurants leave guests waiting far too long for another drink. BLACKBARN understood the assignment.
Save Room for Dessert
I almost forgot to mention dessert, which would have been a serious omission.
The matcha and black sesame sundae combined a rich matcha brownie, mango compote, coconut gelato and sesame brittle.
It was an interesting combination of earthy, tropical, sweet and slightly savory flavors. The mango and coconut kept the dessert bright, while the matcha and black sesame provided depth. The sesame brittle added the crunch needed to bring the different textures together.
It was creative without feeling like the kitchen was trying too hard to be clever.
The restaurant’s dessert program is overseen by Executive Pastry Chef Kerry Hegarty, a Hudson Valley native and Culinary Institute of America graduate.
The sundae was an excellent finish and another example of BLACKBARN delivering beyond what I normally expect from a regional hotel restaurant.
Is BLACKBARN Hudson Valley Worth It?
My BLACKBARN Hudson Valley review ultimately comes down to one question: did the restaurant deliver more than an attractive waterfall view?
Yes.
BLACKBARN Hudson Valley is better than your average Hudson Valley restaurant experience.
The waterfall and outdoor patio make an attractive first impression, but the food, cocktails and service make the restaurant worth visiting. The local sourcing is not simply a convenient phrase printed on the menu. BLACKBARN identifies relationships with regional farms, orchards, dairies and seafood suppliers, and that commitment translated into fresh, seasonal food.
The appetizers and salads were thoughtful, the main courses delivered, the cocktails kept arriving and dessert finished the meal on a high note.
Most importantly, the staff remained attentive even though we were the only table seated outside.
The Verdict
BLACKBARN benefits from its connection to a successful New York City restaurant, but it does not feel like a lesser regional outpost.
It brings New York City ambition to the Hudson Valley while using the farms, ingredients and seasonal flavors available in its own backyard.
The waterfall brought me in. The locally sourced food, strong cocktails and attentive service are why I would return.
For anyone researching Hudson Valley brunch or comparing Saugerties restaurants, BLACKBARN deserves serious consideration.
Completely unnecessary? Maybe. Absolutely worth it.
People often ask me what my favorite restaurant in the world is. Considering how much I travel for food, it’s a fair question. I’ve been fortunate enough to dine at Michelin-starred restaurants, experience many of the World’s 50 Best Restaurants, and eat my way through some of the greatest culinary destinations on earth. My answer […]
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I love tasting menus. That does not mean I think you should always order one.
I have planned trips around restaurant reservations, tried things I never expected to eat, and spent amounts on dinner that would make plenty of people question my judgment. Fair enough. Sometimes I question it myself.
Are tasting menus worth it? For me, yes—with conditions. The food has to be memorable, the hospitality has to make you comfortable, and the evening has to justify the money and time. That includes your money, your time, and the other things you could have done on that trip.
An expensive dinner does not get a good review from me simply because I paid for it.
How São Paulo Brought Me Back to Tasting Menus
Evvai’s take on tiramisu, broken into separate components rather than served as a conventional slice.
Chef Kazuo Harada preparing sushi at the counter at Kazuo in São Paulo.
One of Evvai’s more sculptural courses, presented on a dramatic textured gold plate.
This interest started years before the trips I write about now. I used to frequent Harvest in Closter, New Jersey, and those tasting menus helped open my palate. I enjoyed letting the kitchen introduce me to things I might not have ordered myself.
Then life happened. That part of my life slowed down.
On my first trip to São Paulo, the omakase at Kazuo and the tasting menu at Evvai brought the urge back. I wanted to try more, learn more, and find out what another kitchen could show me.
Since then, it has become part of how I live. I research restaurants, plan trips around meals, and come home thinking about the next experience.
It is also part of what gets me to work every day. The next dollar, euro, real, or whatever currency I need for the next tasting menu or omakase has a purpose. I am working toward something I am excited to experience.
Tasting Menu vs. À La Carte: What Am I Paying For?
If I measured every meal by the amount of food on the table, I would make very different reservations.
A tasting menu gives a kitchen the chance to introduce its cooking through a sequence of dishes. At its best, that means trying combinations I would never think to order, seeing ingredients used in unfamiliar ways, and enjoying a dinner that develops as it goes along.
That is the appeal for me. I can order something familiar almost anywhere. When I commit to a tasting menu, I want the restaurant to give me a reason to hand over those decisions.
But I still want dinner to taste good.
An explanation can make a dish more interesting. It cannot make me enjoy a bite I do not want to eat again. Beautiful plates and elaborate presentations are welcome, but the food has to carry its part of the evening.
Tasting Menus Changed What I Eat
This is probably the strongest argument I can make for them: tasting menus have changed what I enjoy eating.
Because of these meals, I have eaten guinea pig, pig’s face, pig’s brains, snails, and sea snails. I have eaten pigeon multiple times. I started eating eel and discovered that I actually enjoy it. At Metzi and D.O.M., I ate insects, too.
I found my love of uni. Truffles and caviar have become very close friends of mine. Expensive friends, admittedly.
And then there are beans. I do not like beans. Yet Evvai’s take on feijoada was amazing.
That is what makes handing over some control worthwhile. Left to my own decisions, I might have read an ingredient, decided it was not for me, and ordered something familiar. A tasting menu puts a different preparation in front of me and gives me a reason to reconsider.
I am not going to pretend I loved every unfamiliar thing I have ever eaten. But I would have missed foods I now enjoy if I had only ordered what I already knew I liked.
Sometimes the value of a dinner follows you into the next restaurant. You see eel or uni on another menu, and this time you are excited to order it.
It also works with food I already know. Disfrutar served me familiar flavors in forms I barely recognized—unexpected shapes, textures, and presentations that made me look twice before taking a bite. Evvai and Mont Bar have done that, too.
I enjoy the moment when what I am looking at and what I am tasting do not quite match my expectations. When it works, I get to rediscover something familiar. The unusual form gets my attention; the flavor is what makes me want another bite.
Sometimes Dinner Teaches You About the Place
Tasting menus have also helped me understand where I am traveling.
D.O.M. and Tuju taught me about Brazil’s ecosystems through their food. Those meals gave me more to think about than whether I liked an individual course. They made me curious about the places and environments behind the ingredients.
At Tuju, I had the Chuva, or Rain, menu, and at D.O.M. I had Quando a Onça Bebe Água—“When the Jaguar Drinks Water.” Both used the meal to tell me something about Brazil beyond what was on the plate. That is what I remember most. I wasn’t just eating dinner; I was learning something about the place I was visiting.
At Dos Pebrots in Barcelona, dinner became an introduction to Catalan gastronomic history. I was learning about the food of a place while actually tasting it.
Maido did that for me in Peru. So did Astrid y Gastón, although that meal was à la carte. It was my first day in Peru, and yes, I overordered. Apparently, arriving in a new country makes me want to start tasting as much of it as possible immediately.
That is an important distinction: a tasting menu is one way to learn about a place through food. My à la carte meal at Astrid y Gastón gave me that kind of introduction, too. What matters is the cooking, the people explaining it, and my willingness to try something unfamiliar.
And the experience does not have to stop at food. At Carnaval, a cocktail tasting menu also introduced me to Peru through what was in the glass. They made me custom cocktails with Don Julio 1942, too, and seemed just as happy to crack open that bottle as I was to see what they would make with it.
The custom drinks were another part of the evening—the kind of personal interaction that makes a bar stay with me long after the last sip.
That matters to me because food is a big part of why I travel. I want to come home with more than photographs of attractive plates. I want to understand something I did not understand before I sat down.
An explanation still has to connect to food I enjoy eating. But when a restaurant gets both right, I leave with a memory of the meal and a better understanding of the destination. That adds something to the value of the evening that counting courses never will.
Mont Bar: When the Whole Evening Comes Together
A 2022 Frontonio Garnacha pour during Mont Bar’s tasting menu pairing.
Lobster, noisette and consommé — one of the standout seafood courses at Mont Bar.
Bresse pigeon cooked two ways with morels and cacao.
Turbot à la beurre blanc with caviar — one of the seafood courses from Mont Bar’s tasting menu.
Gin, bay leaf, lime and smoked black tea — a refreshing transition into the final courses.
Mont Bar in Barcelona is one of my clearest examples of a tasting menu earning its place in a trip.
I loved the smoked tuna belly with pine nut emulsion and the warm mochi with sobrasada and Mahón cheese. The mushroom course with mushroom ice cream and white miso gave me something unfamiliar that I actually wanted to eat.
The wine pairing added discoveries, and the room felt lively and welcoming. After dinner, the team made me a complimentary custom cocktail to enjoy outside.
I paid for my meal; that final drink was a gesture from the restaurant. It stayed with me because it felt personal.
Mont Bar remains one of my five best meals. The reason is the combination: food, wine, people, and how comfortable I felt spending the evening there.
Oiji Mi: The Dessert I Thought I Was Getting
Three opening bites from the Oiji Mi tasting menu, including seafood, caviar and seasonal vegetables.
Galbi course served with vegetables and sauce during the tasting menu at Oiji Mi in New York City.
Oiji Bowl at Oiji Mi with uni, salmon roe, cucumber and raw seafood.
Chamoe Bingsu at Oiji Mi with Korean melon, honey, oat crumble and cashew.
OKSUSU dessert at Oiji Mi with grilled corn, dulce de leche and sesame.
At Oiji Mi in New York, the first course was amazing. The Oiji Bowl gave me some of the best uni I have eaten, and the beef tartare and scallop were other favorites.
But one of the most memorable moments came at dessert.
My dining partner told me I would have to finish hers. That sounded like an arrangement I could work with.
Then I looked up to get another piece, and her plate was empty. She had finished it herself.
Apparently, I was no longer needed.
We had arrived after a long day without much appetite, yet the food kept giving us reasons to carry on. I can describe ingredients and presentation, but someone going from “you’ll have to finish mine” to leaving nothing for me says quite a lot about that dessert.
Those are the details that make a meal stay with me. The first bite, a standout dish, and the moment across the table that still makes me laugh afterward.
You Do Not Need the Most Expensive Version
At Viaggio’s chef’s counter, the pasta and the interaction with Chef Rabbit gave the experience its value. The ravioli, oxtail tortellini, and spaghetti were central to what I enjoyed.
That is a useful reminder when planning a food-focused trip: a memorable meal does not have to be the most famous reservation available.
Look at what interests you. It might be pasta, a particular chef’s approach, a regional cuisine, or the chance to sit at a counter and watch the kitchen work.
Start there. The price should be something you evaluate after finding a reason to go.
Check Whether You Actually Have a Choice
Before you decide between a tasting menu and à la carte, check whether the restaurant offers both. Some restaurants only serve a tasting menu. You cannot assume you can sit down, skip the full experience, and order the two dishes you saw online.
Research that before you book. Read the restaurant’s current menu and reservation terms, check whether different dining rooms or counters offer different formats, and ask if anything is unclear. Confirm dietary restrictions and substitutions ahead of time, too.
If it is tasting-menu-only, the decision is whether you want that experience at all. There is nothing wrong with choosing another restaurant if you do not.
That is especially important when booking for other people. Everyone should know what kind of meal they are agreeing to, how long it is likely to take, and what it is likely to cost.
Before you reserve: confirm the menu format for your exact seating, the expected duration, any dietary accommodations, and the cancellation or no-show policy. If a deposit is required, check whether it comes off the final bill. Photographs and dishes below are from my visits; they are not a promise of what a restaurant serves today.
I Overorder. The Rest of the Table Knows It.
Even when à la carte is available, I am not exactly the person who orders two sensible dishes and hands back the menu.
There can be just two of us, and I still want to try far more food than we need. I see another dish that sounds interesting, then another, and suddenly a normal dinner has become a much bigger project.
I enjoy that. I want to taste things, compare them, and find out whether the dish I almost skipped ends up being the best thing on the table.
But I have also seen the faces.
Friends, family, friends of friends. I start ordering, and there is a look that says, “Wait. Are we splitting this equally?” Followed pretty closely by, “What the hell is an oyster with pearls?”
That is my interpretation of the look, but the concern is fair. I may be thinking about what I want to try. Someone else may be calculating their share of a dinner that just got a lot more expensive without anyone asking them.
My enthusiasm is not an agreement from everyone else to fund it.
Before ordering half the menu, the table needs to agree on what we are sharing, roughly what we want to spend, and how we are splitting the bill. If I want something extra that nobody else wants, I need to make clear that it is my extra—not quietly add it to everybody’s equal share.
A tasting menu can make the base food cost clearer because everyone knows the price ahead of time. Pairings, drinks, and supplements still need a conversation. One person’s enthusiasm for an upgrade does not make it a group decision.
Does Everyone Need the Biggest Dinner Possible?
No. Not even when I am tempted to order it.
If à la carte is available and the dishes you are most excited about can be ordered that way, choose those dishes. Share something else if everyone wants to. Leave room for dessert—or another stop later.
A long tasting menu works much better when everyone actually wants to be there. If one person wants an evening built around dinner and another wants to eat and explore the city, settle that before booking.
I would rather have a table full of people enjoying the meal than a table full of people wondering how expensive my next sentence is going to be.
Is the Wine Pairing Worth It? I Usually Skip It.
I love a tasting menu, but I usually skip the wine pairing and order a few drinks instead. I like being able to drink at my own pace.
Sometimes I want to stay with a cocktail I am enjoying. Sometimes I want a glass of wine without another selection arriving with the next course. I do not always want my drinking to follow the kitchen’s schedule.
There is also how I feel afterward. In the United States and South America, wine pairings have usually left me with a hangover and sometimes what feels like acid reflux. With the pairings I have had in Europe, that has not been my experience.
That is an observation about my own meals, not proof that European wine prevents either problem. I cannot tell you whether the difference was the wines, quantities, pacing, food, or something else.
Mont Bar helped change how open I was to pairings. That experience encouraged me to order them at Disfrutar and Dos Pebrots, too. It also introduced me to Spanish wines I would now order independently from a wine list.
That is value I can take into another meal. I am learning what I enjoy, instead of needing someone to choose for me every time.
On my European trips, particularly in Spain, I have also noticed a different rhythm around drinking: wine with the meal, and cocktails often before or afterward. It felt different from the way I tend to drink when dining in the United States. That is how those particular evenings unfolded for me, rather than a rule for everyone in Europe.
I still usually prefer choosing a few drinks and enjoying them at my own pace. But after Mont Bar, I am more willing to consider what a thoughtful pairing might add.
You can commit to the food experience without committing to every drink offered alongside it.
Supplements: If They Make Sense, Go for It
Small bites, detailed presentation—the opening of my tasting menu at The Modern.
A course from my tasting-menu experience at The Modern.
The tableside truffle presentation at The Modern—a fitting image for the conversation about supplements.
If a supplement sounds interesting and the extra cost seems reasonable for what it adds, I am usually inclined to go for it.
I am already there because I want to experience the cooking. If there is a dish I am particularly curious about, I do not want to skip it automatically just because it costs extra.
The question is what the upgrade actually gives me.
Is it a different dish or an ingredient that makes the preparation more appealing? Or is it mostly an excuse to sell me caviar or shave truffles over something?
I love both. We have established that. But even close friends do not need to show up at every course.
Give me a reason to want the supplement beyond the name of an expensive ingredient, and a price that makes sense to me, and I will happily consider it.
Judge the Full Bill Before You Book
The advertised menu price is where I start. I also check drinks, supplements, any booking charges, and how tax and service are handled at that restaurant.
Then I ask a more useful question: would I still choose this dinner at the total I am realistically going to spend?
That number matters much more than the lowest price shown on the menu.
For a useful comparison, put the complete tasting-menu evening next to the à la carte meal you would realistically order. Include drinks in both. Check whether a supplement replaces a course or adds another one, and whether its price is per person. An optional upgrade should be a deliberate choice, not something you discover on the bill.
So does the time involved. On a short trip, one long dinner occupies an evening you could spend somewhere else. Sometimes that reservation is exactly why I traveled. Other times, a shorter meal leaves room for more of the city.
I am also not going to pretend I only book experiences when the money is comfortably sitting there. Sometimes, after doing the research, I decide a meal or experience is worth going into debt for. That is a personal decision about what matters to me, not a rule I expect anyone else to follow.
The question is whether I want that experience enough to accept the full cost—including the interest if I carry a balance. I want to make that decision before I book, with a clear understanding of what I am committing to.
Service Is Part of What I Am Buying
Evvai’s course cards help turn the meal into a story.
Dessert and the illustrated cards I enjoyed keeping from Evvai.
When I book a tasting menu, I want to know about every dish I am served. Tell me what the ingredients are, where they come from, and why they belong together. Tell me the backstory: what inspired the dish, what it means to the chef, and how it connects to the place I am visiting.
I want that conversation. I ask questions because I am interested, and those answers can become as memorable as the food itself.
If I am eating something unfamiliar, I want to understand it. If a familiar ingredient arrives in a form I barely recognize, I want to know how the kitchen got there. And if a dish draws on a tradition or a childhood memory, I want to hear that story while I am tasting it.
That is part of what I am paying for. The explanation gives me something to think about, and the conversation makes the experience personal.
I also want something to take home. Give me the menu, the dish cards, the little pieces of the experience I can look through afterward. I photograph plenty, but I love having something that helps me remember what I ate and the stories that came with it.
Evvai’s pop-art cards are exactly the kind of detail I mean. They gave me an explanation and description of the dishes, along with a sense of what inspired their creation. I could connect what I was tasting to the idea behind it, then take that reminder home.
Those details matter when I get home and try to explain why a meal stayed with me. A card can bring back a dish, its inspiration, and the conversation around it in a way that a photograph of the plate alone might not.
At D.O.M., I even bought one of their napkins to take home. Alex Atala’s punk-rock background connected with me because I was once a punk rocker, too.
So yes, I went out for a tasting menu and bought a napkin. Completely unnecessary? Probably. But that little connection turned it into a souvenir I wanted to keep.
The same goes for the drinks. Evvai and Disfrutar have both made me custom cocktails. Those moments made me feel special because someone took the time to make a drink for me.
At The Modern, I loved the drink I was having so much that I never asked for a custom one. Sometimes finding something you want to order again is enough.
For me, great service means sharing that enthusiasm. I want to feel comfortable asking questions, hear the stories behind the cooking, and leave knowing more than I did when I arrived. That is a big part of whether I want to return.
Pacing matters as much as the number of courses
A long meal needs room for conversation and time to enjoy what is already in front of you. When booking, ask how long the experience usually takes rather than guessing from the course count. If you have theater tickets, a flight, or another fixed commitment afterward, tell the restaurant before committing to the reservation.
The right format also depends on the people at your table. Someone who enjoys hearing about every preparation may love an evening like this. Someone who wants a relaxed dinner without frequent explanations may prefer another setting. Both are reasonable ways to enjoy a meal.
Why Travel for Food When I Live in New York?
People ask me this, and I understand the question.
I live in New York. I love the food scene here. Within reach of home, I can find an extraordinary range of cuisines, prices, and acclaimed restaurants. I do not have to board a plane to eat well.
But when I travel for a meal, I am also traveling for the people, the place, and the culture around it.
Learning about Brazil at a table in São Paulo, exploring Catalan food history in Barcelona, or arriving in Peru and immediately ordering too much at Astrid y Gastón gives the food a different context. The conversations, the surroundings, and everything I experience before and after dinner become part of the memory.
I can love New York’s restaurants and still want to experience those things where they happen. That is why the journey is worth it to me.
Dassai sake gelato — a simple finish that keeps the restaurant’s sake theme running through dessert.
Dassai Blue’s four-sake pairing offered Type 23 Nama, Type 35, Type 50 Nama and Type 50 Nigori.
Chilled summer cabbage — a lighter, vegetable-focused course from the Dassai Blue tasting menu.
Would I Pay for It Again?
That is the question I trust most after dinner.
So, are tasting menus worth it? I judge that by whether I would pay for the experience again—not by how famous the restaurant is.
Would I choose this restaurant again, knowing the full cost? Would I recommend it to someone who had saved for one special meal? Can I explain what made it worth doing beyond its reputation?
Sometimes a tasting menu introduces me to food, wine, and people I will remember for years. Sometimes ordering a few dishes is exactly enough. And sometimes I order far too many. We have covered that.
Harvest helped open my palate. Kazuo and Evvai brought that curiosity back. The meals since then have kept giving me reasons to follow it.
This has become part of my lifestyle and something that gives me drive. There is another table I want to sit at, another place I want to understand, and another experience worth working toward.
That is why I keep going to work, earning the money, doing the research, and making the reservation.
Completely unnecessary. Absolutely worth it. When the restaurant earns it.
What is the most you have spent on dinner—and, knowing what you know now, would you pay for it again? Tell me in the comments.
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