One of the perks of being a road warrior is sampling new restaurants in whatever city I’m visiting.  I have a steadfast rule  … no chains, ever.  I used to travel with a guy who would insist on eating at godforsaken places like Chili’s or Bennigan’s simply because he was “familiar with the menu”.  After a lengthy, heated conversation where I enlightened him on the importance of patronizing local businesses, he had a change of heart.

If I’m with my crew, we always try to find the weirdest, most-out-of-the-way place.  A true Mom and Pop joint.  We’ll drive to a sketchy part of town just because we heard a rumor about a phenomenal vegetarian restaurant.  We’ll argue about which Indian eatery to try based on their menu offerings.  I’ve become quite the connoisseur of eating out.  My waistline can confirm this.

Last night, I hung out with my best friend Dre and her husband.  Her hubby suggested a swank restaurant in Sacramento called Grange.  It’s attached to an even swankier hotel, The Citizen, which helped inspire a renaissance in the downtown area.  Given that I visit SacTown 4-5 times a year, it was strange I’d never dined there.

It’s always a good sign when the executive chef happens to be milling around out front and offers you suggestions on what to get.  Grange is a flesh-eaters paradise.  I had a rib eye the size of my head last night, complimented with a rich blue cheese béarnaise, spinach and gnocchi.  I thought I had died and gone to carnivore heaven.  So did Dre’s hubby, who scored perfectly executed pork chops.  The menu changes almost weekly which helps ensure diners are always treated to exquisite new recipes.  The waiter suggested an impossibly blissful bottle of Chardonnay to go along with our meal, DuMol Russian River.   (Yes, I know … red meat = red wine … don’t judge me.)

There’s something to be said about the dining out experience.  For a foodie like me, it’s hard to beat a great meal with friends, complete with sparkling conversation.  The perfect finish was the chef’s gourmet Butterscotch pudding.  Somebody tell me again why I’ve never eaten here?  I think I’ve reached Nirvana.