[itinerary | lodging] As a native of New York State, you grew up knowing upstate visitors never ventured farther than Manhattan, borough-dwellers never crossed their bridges and tunnels unless absolutely necessary, and if you got on the Long Island Railroad heading east — it was a miracle if you came back.

In a previous lifetime, you took that ride on the LIRR. You marked the successive station names reflecting the growing physical and symbolic distance from the City: Jamaica, East New York, and Far Rockaway; then eventually Wantagh, Massapequa, and Copiague, — Native American words not unlike the Finger Lakes and upstate rivers you grew up with. You met a friend in Islip who drove you south to Robert Moses State Park, a relic leftover from the early 20th century rise of automobiles. People displacing people displacing people — the circle of life manifested in a pristine beach deliberately built far away from public trains.

The road to the Hamptons

Townline BBQ

Many years and one pandemic later, while living briefly in the City, you give Long Island another shot on a frigid January Saturday. Armed with nothing but a warm car and time to lose, you set out for the edge of the island and back. As the gray reality of Queens and Nassau County fades, the island opens up like a lobster claw with northern and southern pincers, wrenching the Great Peconic and Little Peconic Bays from Atlantic waters. You follow the southern route and see exit signs for Hampton Bays, Southampton, Bridgehampton, and East Hampton. It does not yet occur to you what these signs mean as you cruise off the parkway onto a quiet but steady two-lane highway through Sagaponack, New York. It is here that you take your first pit stop and are pleasantly surprised to find good Texas-style barbeque that could give Billy Bob’s a run for its money. You wash it down with a giant stein of crisp, amber lager.

Brisket, fries, cornbread, and beer from Townline BBQ in Sagaponack, NY

As you mosey down the road, you come through rows and rows of quaint little towns that appear to have remarkable amounts of wealth in them. Tree-lined avenues with protected bike lanes and park benches, rows of shops and brownstones, and central squares and clock towers rub elbows with Starbucks, Ralph Lauren, London Jewelers, and Sotheby’s. You remember where you are: the largest eastern suburb of the commercial center of the world.

Montauk Point

The farther east you drive, the flatter and less vegetative the earth becomes. Pine forests give way to gnarly birch skeletons and patches of sharp dead grass. In January the forests of Montauk Point imbue an eerie beauty, compelling you to exit the car despite sub-zero temperatures and Atlantic gale force winds. You wander toward the lighthouse museum but see the familiar closure sign that most indoor spaces have these days, so you venture a beach walk instead. You weave through snow-capped dunes, losing sight and sound of your travel companion. The wind is an onslaught. As you struggle to maintain your footing on the stony shore, you gesture toward the ocean, pointing in the direction of what you can only assume is Rhode Island’s Block Island. There are giant windmills spinning on the choppy waves. Are you losing your sight, Don Quixote?

Scenes from Camp Hero State Park and Montauk Point State Park

Your beach antics give you a healthy appetite, and besides, there isn’t any direction left to go but back. You turn around and bid farewell to Montauk Point, making sure to hug the coast a little closer on this route. GPS can take a break for a while. The farther west you go, you notice houses starting to get bigger and lots appearing more secluded by fences, walls, and forests. It finally dawns on you: East Hampton, Bridgehampton, Southampton, and Hampton Bays. Are these collectively The Hamptons? You hope nobody hears you thinking this out loud.

Coopers Beach

You decide to center yourself and pull off into a public beach parking area. Closer to the sand, the houses are not as big as you saw before, but they are modern, chic, somewhat Bauhaus in appearance. The beach is mostly empty save for a couple sea gulls and beach combers. You imagine yourself hanging out on the beach with Hamptons natives during the summer months. Was — was that Leo playing fetch with his dog? Did you catch Beyoncé waving a metal detector over the sand? What these questions really boil down to is, did you drive to the Hamptons simply because you could?

Cowfish

The stomach knows what it wants, so once again you slide into your cozy caravan and push past the sand dunes for more stable ground. In Hamptons Bay, you discover a canal area or marina of some kind, and with it an upscale restaurant boasting new American cuisine. The name alone grabs you: Cowfish. The host leads you upstairs to a booth with a view of the marina, though you tend to be more interested in the wealthy clientele at the nearby bar.

While you cling to your Old Fashioned, your companion celebrates the occasion with an appropriately named cocktail: the Long Island Iced Tea. The sweet smoky flavor of the cocktail warms your battered soul. It’s been a tough year for everyone. Long Island is helping you escape it, if only for one day. Your waiter brings you back to reality and asks for the entree orders.

Your companion shyly taps the menu. “I think I want the Reuben.”

“It’s like no other,” the waiter replies, his eyes dancing at the request.

Your experiences with Reubens were limited, as the bar had been set high by your very first one at a restaurant with family years ago. You echo your travel companion’s order and do not regret your choice. The mouthwatering corned beef, slow-cooked and simmered to perfection, melts in your mouth as you take a thick bite of toasty, gooey deliciousness. This is a Reuben for the ages. Nothing can ever come close! The rye bread holds the cheese, sauerkraut, dressing, and beef together like a hug from your grandma on your birthday. You feel like a real New Yorker that day.

Reuben “Like No Other,” Old Fashioned, and Long Island Iced Tea

In the waning light of January, you stumble out of Cowfish and gaze at the crystalized pink sky over the harbor. One day of peace, joy, and exploration is all it takes to rejuvenate your spirit, to keep you living to fight another day. You breathe a sigh of relief. And even though it’s time to drive back to the City, you are content knowing you can tell the guests of the next cocktail party about your secret getaway to the Hamptons.

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After a big weekend in the Big Apple, why not come home to rest in the Finger Lakes?