Boy, did I need a weekend off. I wanted to sleep and walk a bit and sleep some more, and, of course, I wanted to eat well. Looking for a retreat in the New York metropolitan area, I happened, happily, upon the Delamar Hotel, in the sleepy town of Southport, in tony Fairfield County, along the Connecticut coast. Our deluxe king room was blessedly large and comfortable. The ocean of a four-poster bed was a particular draw, its mattress akin to marshmallow—as inviting, as deliciously soft. We spent most of our time in it. That seemed wholly appropriate, for the hotel—opened in 2010 and just a hop off I-95 sixty miles from Manhattan—is just the type of place you could disappear into for a couple days. There are common rooms (which doubled as private spas) with fireplaces and steam showers. At the front desk, the staff pours tiny glasses of sherry. The place is filled with contemporary art.
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