of cuts and chops to go with its award- winning wine list.
croquet, bowling, indoor/outdoor swim- ming pools, paintball, laser tag, gun club, horseback riding, tennis (there’s even a championship tennis court and stadium)…”
Get the picture? For me, well, I’m all about the food.
Mealtime (or anytime) is replete with Executive Chef Bryan Skelding’s tempt- ing culinary opportunities - eight distinct dining outlets are on property, including the lavishly-decorated and award- winning Main Dining Room, dripping with chandelier crystals and oozing with refinement. This is where the legendary breakfast buffet is served daily. With its green and white jacketed captains methodically dispensing service toward its patrons to the Nth-degree, to, maybe, an after dinner drink at Slammin’ Sammy’s or watching a game in JJ’s, the rustic sports bar, the options are ongoing.
Although the resort’s top dining rooms don’t quite crest into the culinary pan- theon of, say, Nemacolin Woodland Resort’s Five Diamond awarded restau- rant, Lautrec, Chef Skelding’s commit- ments toward his own bounty remains steadfastly-elevated, with a farm-to-table program that’s sourcing produce within a mere hour’s distance to the inn.
I suited-up in a dress shirt, slacks and a sports jacket (the main dining rooms and the Lobby Bar all request “jackets for men” at dinnertime) and made my way to 44 West, the woody, tartan-decorated steakhouse possessing a laudable array
78 May z June 2017
My Wagyu beef sided by deca- dent lobster mashed pota- toes, was a per-
fect rendition of surf & turf – the loin so buttery it was almost creamy - one of the best pieces of meat with one of the top side of mashed potatoes I’ve had in recent memory. And I give the kitchen extra points for naming its beef properly (most places will call theirs “Kobe beef,” which is a misnomer, as American (Wagyu) beef is native to the US and Kobe beef comes specifically from Japan). Other standout meals were soon to follow, like the one I had the very next day at 7:00am.
There’s nothing like it: arriving for break- fast at an elegant inn and being poured a hot cup of coffee while the morning sun shines through wide windows amid the calming sound of clinking silver and ballet-like administrations of tuxedo-clad servers wishing a “Good morning!” to everyone they see.
The Main Dining Room is that kind of place.
Breakfast that next morning in the main dining room could have been an absolute feast, if you’d want it to be; its overflowing stations are a cornucopia of bountiful goodness - from the buttery cheese biscuits and its omelet station, and mousse-y desserts, to healthier, fruitier, earthy-crunchier offerings.
I was set to take a tour with Greenbrier historian, “Dr. Bob Conte,” but, unfortu- nately, he had to postpone. Now what? I gazed out the leaded windows of the old arched doorways seeing those 2,500- foot mountains behind me at the rear of the resort, and...
I scrambled up to my room, laced up my hiking boots, slathered on sunscreen and - grabbing a bottle of water - off I went.
With miles and miles of well-maintained trails ahead of me, I hiked my Main Dining Room morning meal away, cover- ing thirteen vigorous, fresh-aired miles before my trek was through.
Returning for a late lunch (while I did have to cancel a massage, the hike was worth doing so), I stepped into Draper’s, eponymous with Dorothy Draper, the classic designer.
With its pastel and rose petal-popping fabrics, flared wall sconces, cushy booths and thick carpeting, Draper’s is a time warp back to America’s Age of Elegance. Its menu read like a cookbook from the 1940s: hearty chicken pot pie, a plate of meatloaf, or - as in my case - a simple, yet satisfying chicken salad sandwich (the secret to its perfection, as I detected? The mayo was house made).
Okay, maybe I splurged on a vanilla milk- shake, too. It was a good one. Dorothy surely would have been proud!
After a quick shower, I went for my (prescheduled) tour of The Bunker.
Remember what I had stated before about that train running to and from Washington, DC? Besides being a direct way for the public to get to the resort, it also served as the direct way for the president, vice president and members of congress to get to The Greenbrier in time of potential war on Washington, and the subsequent fallout, circa 1962-1992.
For, you see, The Greenbrier contained a secret back then - one that was hiding in plain sight all along.
In the late 1950s, President Eisenhower, who was a frequent guest there (and reportedly one heck of a golfer), talked
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