East Hampton offers romantic stays, secluded beaches and a vibrant dining and art scene.
East Hampton: The town that puts the East in East End. From historic fishing town to playground of the rich and famous in less than half a century, East Hampton Village is a home to Long Island’s oldest estates, finest dining establishments and some of its most celebrity-est residents. On a recent early spring weekend, MOTTO set out eastwards for an intimate, romantic getaway in the Heart of the South Fork.
As any self-respecting travel hack knows, the best way to kick off a trip to a new destination is with some preliminary historical research (if only to balance out all the drinking, eating and tanning we’re about to embark on.) As it turns out, the town of East Hampton (as opposed to East Hampton village) actually stretches from Wainscott in the west all the way to Montauk Point in the east, encompassing the hamlets of Montauk, Amagansett, Wainscott, Springs, as well as a part of Sag Harbor. Together with the Town of Southampton, it forms the entirety of Long Island Sound’s South Fork. The site of the first English settlement in the state of New York in the early 1600’s, the town quickly become a bustling whaling center from the 17th century on, with a port so busy it rivaled that of New York City’s and featured in Melville’s literary masterpiece, Moby Dick. In 1880’s, the Long Island Railroad (LIRR) was extended from Southampton to Bridgehampton, signaling a start for the construction of luxury homes and villas in the now easily-accessible East Hampton; fast forward to current time, with multiple business tycoons, celebrities and regular rich folk making it their second home or summer vacation destination. The town boasts an impressive artistic heritage as well, with Jackson Pollock famously living and working in Springs in the 40’s, and others including Mark Rothko, Willem de Koonig and Andy Warhol calling East Hampton home at various times. Armed with this historic and cultural context, we are now perfectly ready to pack up the beach gear and hit our destination.
We arrive at East Hampton a bit after 6pm on a Thursday – what would be a mad afternoon rush from Manhattan in regular times is replaced by a relatively pain-free, two hour commute aboard the ever-dependable Hampton’s Luxury Liner. We find ourselves mentally obsessing about a smooth check-in and an afternoon nap – probably just the brain reacting to an overload of expectations brought about by the thought of spending three days out of the city. Making your way down the town’s Main Street, it would be hard to identify the Mill House Inn – our home away from home for this mini-vacay – apart for the fact there is actually a large Mill directly across its doorstep. The 10-suite carriage house is deceptively discreet from the outside, and the only other feature giving it away is a long, southern-like terrace with multiple French doors open onto the street. This facade is beautiful in an understated, blink-and-you-missed it kind of way, and as we walk into the hotel the first thing we notice is its cozy aesthetic. Featuring lights in various states of dimmability across the compact, high beam lobby, makes for an intimate and elegant space, which is complemented by original black and white photography of the surrounding area adorning the walls of the common areas (we later discover all images were shot by the owner.)
We are greeted by the reception staff, which is casual and professional, and in a couple of minutes are whisked away by way of winding corridors to the Ernest Hemingway Suite. The suite is large, airy, and furnished to evoke 1930’s Key West (or Cuba,) complete with large wicker-leather sofas across from a massive fireplace, a large heavy wooden dining table and mock wooden travel cases on top of a book shelf carrying some of Hemingway’s classics (we just about finished a compilation of his shorter pieces during our three day stay.) But its not all vintage bamboo and African art aesthetics: the marble-heavy bathroom is perfectly modern, with a dual head rain shower, stand alone bubble bath and slick cabinetry complete with luxury toiletries and bath salts. Visions of indulgence and escapism fill our mind, and we end up drawing a Jacuzzi as a precursor to that long awaited siesta.
Fast forward a couple of hours, as we separate ourselves from the extra plush bed, near-magically rejuvenated and feeling like island locals, the city now nothing but a remote memory. It must be some form of overwork-induced mass delusion, we conclude, as a mere 6 hours ago we’ve rolled our carry-ons across yellow cab-laden streets… But we’re in the country now. The natural Hamptons light that Pollock and Evans liked so much is in full effect at the Hemingway suite, penetrating our second floor room from all directions, through no less than eight windows across three walls. Birds are tweeting and the breeze is blowing, as we note the room is practically surrounded by trees, presenting patches of green everywhere you look.
… But we’re in the country now. The natural Hamptons light that Pollock and Evans liked so much is in full effect at the Hemingway suite, penetrating our second floor room from all directions…
We head out for a quick snack, to tide us over before dinner. A 15-minute stroll from the hotel is Bostwick’s Chowder House, a road-side seafood shack serving casual staples like lobster rolls, fried clams and, of course, chowder. The place is teeming with folks scattered across the outside garden. We sample the fish Tacos, which are basic but fresh, and the lobster roll, which could hold its own against any Maine or Cape Cod bun. Between the generously portioned dishes, the blueberry lemonade cocktails and with temperatures unseasonably chilly (anything under 70 feels downright wintery in the Hamptons in August, we come to realize,) a quick executive decision is made – to forego elaborate evening itineraries in favor of a return to the hotel, where we now have newly-formed action plans including home-made ice-cream from the Mill House’s fully stacked 24-hour ’nack bar, and a well stocked fire place…
The next morning we’re all about the surf. To enable beach bum-like flexibility, we pick up a couple of cruisers from Bermuda Bike. Peddling to Main Beach, we check out rows of mansions on the way – deer roam free on empty lots, among the overgrown grass and For Sale signs. The scene at the beach is busy, with families and snack bars as far as the eye can see. A short bike ride away is the low-key Wiborg beach, and Egypt Beach, where you can see the tee-off spot for Maidstone, one of Gold Digest’s 100 top courses. Both of those stretches of land are a better fit for our purposes, which include sand, water and not much more. A couple of hours later, sandy and thirsty, we opt for a casual lunch back in town – at Rowdy Hall, where they succeeded in marrying two rival cultures to create a French bistro menu at an English Pub setting. I have the more-than-solid Turkey Burger, and the missus a simple yet top-notch Roquefort-Walnut salad. Looking at their well-curated draught collection, we opt for a tasting flight of their seasonal offering on tap.
Next, we pop across the street to check out the Eric Firestone Gallery’s Hamptons offshoot, which famously featured the Montauk Highway II exhibition, highlighting Postwar Abstract art made in the Hamptons. Harking back to the 1960’s, a time of radical artistic activity centered in and around New York City, the show brought together works from over thirty East End based artists, with a common thread of experimental, light but intense aesthetics.
What would a Hampton vacation be without some retail therapy? A stroll on Main Street quickly reveals a surprising amount of open stores – a combination of established brands (John Varvatos, Ralp Lauren) and more unique, one-off spots, where you can pickup anything from a one of a kind beach bag, to artisanal furniture for your home. East Reformation Beach House is somewhere in between those two genres: the LA-based mini-chain produces current, drawing-to-hanger female summer staples (think little white dresses) from sustainable, rescued and repurposed fabrics. Down the road, another west coast import is St. Frank Popup, offering anything from Hawaiian made surfboards, to hand-carved furniture. Brunello Cucinelli is another worthy stop along the Main Street strip: the Italian-based chain donates 20% of its revenue to charity, pays their workers 20% above industry average, and ban after-hours email or punch cards. Still, they are able to produce hand-made products with classic, timeless shapes and natural dyes.
Before we notice, it is dinner time, and we head to the Hamptons Grill. Owned by the Hillstone group, the dining room is elegant, dark and woody, tastefully decorated with modern art, while small groups of regulars devour steaks and seafood creations, casually decked out in boating attire. Service is impeccable as we dig into our delicious fillet of cod (with bock choy and sticky rice) and slow-cooked prime rib roast (with mash potatoes and creamy horseradish.) A few cocktails round up this fine dining experience, and a short Main Street stroll later we are back at Mill House Inn, ready to conclude another satisfying day on Island Time.
We wake up to our last day in East Hampton with one thought on our mind: Fritatta. The Mill House Inn is a very cuisine focused establishment, and despite not offering lunch or dinner (yet? the community pressure its building for Chef Carolyn to open her kitchen doors throughout the day,) their breakfast is one of the finest we’ve had anywhere this year. The Montauk Lobster Fritata is phenomenal, pairing said lobster with grilled asparagus, chives and smoked bacon, while the Vermont Cabot Creamery is positively sumptuous. The Brioche French Toast, however, quite literally takes the cake, with an indulgent mix of bourbon, vanilla, cinnamon creme and fresh berries.
On the way down to the lobby to check out (beating the traffic is a core requirement of an awesome Hamptons weekend,) we stop at the bar for a last go at the Coffee menu. Mill House resident coffee master, J, brings in several varieties of freshly ground, local coffee from Long Island and as far as Key West, Florida. With a cup of fine Death Wish java in hand and a box of freshly baked cookies to send us off, we say our goodbyes. We will be back soon: can’t wait to do East Hampton in the snow.