| The Experience |

Upon entering the circle drive and being greeted by Mercedes Benz after Mercedes Benz and the friendly valet staff, the signature peach hues of The Rosewood Mansion on Turtle Creek set the warm tone of the weekend, as did the surrounding humidity that made standing outside for too long a danger to your hairdo and an insult to your pressed linens. After gladly accepting my cold water bottle and keys to room 703 for the weekend, I left the grand lobby (complete with complimentary chocolate chip cookies and mint water) to bask in the A/C of my entirely-too-big-for-one-person Executive Suite for the weekend.

| The Room |

Walking into the foyer, I was immediately greeted by a culinary creation of grilled toast, cheese platter and an array of alcoholic beverages. Southern hospitality is real. After devouring what was in front of me, I did a bit of exploring. This was no ordinary hotel room. The palatial 900 sq. ft. space not only required some peeking around but deserved some attention to its magnificent detail. I had two massive TVs to watch two separate Robin Williams movies if I pleased, which would be Jumanji and Mrs. Doubtfire if you were wondering. I had two balconies, two bathrooms, two lounge spaces and three telephones, just to name a few of the amenities. The pure size of the place and thus, parties I could host, would be impressive. Think Executive Suite turned Chingy hotel party, except this is on the opposite end of the spectrum as the Holiday Inn, and we’ll say Jay Z and P. Diddy hosted instead. The highlight of the suite was the king-sized canopy bed, dripping in peach linens and luxury feel. The oversized soaking tub was a close second.

| The Restaurant |

After being a frequent visitor of Dallas for the past 20something years, I can remember hearing about The Mansion’s restaurant for many of them. Hailed as the city’s top dining experience, I was ecstatic to receive an invite from the hotel for Saturday evening. Executive Chef Bruno Davaillon created magic with a combination of American and French cuisines. My tastebuds still crave the watermelon and Burrata cheese combo daily as well as one of the tastiest filets I’ve ever had in my life (which is impressive considering I live in the land of beef known as Argentina). Service wasn’t far behind the food itself as our host, Captain Ray Brantley, went above and beyond to make sure everything on the table was top-notch, including the weight of my steak knife. I believe this same attention to detail is much admired in many luxury hotels around the country but not easily replicated. Being questioned about the heaviness of my eating utensil was a first for me. Ray, you got it just right!

The ambiance of the restaurant was intimate yet relaxed. Sleek furnishings, vibrant artwork and perfectly weighted silverware contributed to the inviting scene of the long anticipated gastronomical experience. I greatly appreciated the bread service as well. The man with the carbohydrate basket was on his game that night, unobtrusively asking the table if we’d like more bread after inhaling a specific loaf to our liking. I sure didn’t need any more carbs to accompany my thighs, but I thought to myself, “Why the hell not? Live from Dallas, it’s Saturday night.”

| The Bar |

Exuding the sophistication of a private members club, the Mansion Bar is full of cognac-colored leather, mood lighting and bartenders so friendly you could probably coax them into ripping your bar tab into shreds at the end of the night. Okay, perhaps not that accommodating, but they do make the most unique gin & tonic I’ve ever tasted. Sip, savor and repeat with this Mansion Bar original served over a hand-cut ice diamond with The Mansion’s own house-made seasonal tonic. You won’t go to sleep disappointed, or sober for that matter. Added bonus: live music every weekend. The tunes were loud, the beer was cold and the women were crazy for the microphone on stage. I witnessed a few anxious females try and take over in order to let their rendition of “Piano Man” be heard, but you can’t pry a mic from a dedicated crowd pleaser. Rule of thumb: Don’t mess with southern women, and don’t mess with Texas.