As a writer who travels the globe covering golf, travel and all things food and beverage — and who racked up 110,000 frequent-flyer miles in 2025 — GOLF contributor Shaun Tolson has visited some of the world’s most famous golf clubs, resorts and best-kept secrets. Below, in Clubhouse Eats, he shares some of his favorite bites and sips from his most recent travels.

Pork Milanese at Isabella’s Kitchen at Grayhawk Golf Club

When I think of Phoenix, Ariz., neither my brain nor my taste buds land on Italian food. Usually, I end up reflecting on impressive tequila collections or reminiscing about world-class tacos — both of which I’ve enjoyed there over the years.

On my most recent trip to the Valley of the Sun, however, I had the good fortune to eat at Isabella’s Kitchen at Grayhawk Golf Club. More specifically, I was lucky enough to order the Pork Milanese.

Now, I know what you’re probably thinking. It’s a pork cutlet, pounded thin, and deep fried. How memorable could it really be? For starters, the plate of food that was placed in front of me was massive. I’m always a quality-over-quantity guy, but even so, this was impressive. Furthermore, an excellent Milanese is as much about the fresh salad garnishing the meat as it is about the protein itself; and Isabella’s mix of arugula, pickled red onions, fennel, and grated Parmesan — all tossed in a bright lemon vinaigrette — was phenomenal.

Tacos at Tingum on 5

Speaking of tacos … On a recent visit to the Abaco Club in the Bahamas, I heard talk of a taco truck parked out near the beach, just beyond the golf course’s fifth hole. I also heard that those tacos had a cult following amongst the club’s members. Frankly, that was all I needed to hear.

Hopping in my golf cart, I coasted down the front nine. It took a bit of time — I drove for almost a mile and a quarter — but I eventually arrived at the Tingum food truck. If I didn’t already have tacos on the brain, the cheese-crusted lobster quesadilla almost assuredly would’ve ended up on my plate. But I reminded myself that the truck’s tacos were the treasure.

Classic options like grilled chicken and blackened fish were juxtaposed by more creative offerings, such as buffalo shrimp (with pickled onions, jalapeno ranch, and coconut slaw) or dry-rubbed flank steak (with fried cherry peppers and a cheesy crema). The steak came recommended by the cook, so that settled it: two steak and one blackened fish. Both were as good as the hype and proved some things are worth going the extra mile for — literally.

The Saint James Cocktail

While staying at the Abaco Club, I saddled up to the bar in the private residential community’s new Bay Club. I immediately spotted a familiar bottle — St George Spirits’ Aqua Perfecta, a basil eau de vie that’s delicious but, in my experiences at home, somewhat challenging to mix with. I asked the head barman, James Vil, how he typically incorporates it into drinks, only to discover he hadn’t attempted to use it yet.

One sip of it later, he was willing to give it a whirl.

Vil pondered for a moment, then broke out a cocktail shaker and promptly poured in two ounces of the vexing eau de vie, which immediately surprised me. (On the spirit company’s website, the few cocktail recipes that use Aqua Perfecta never treat it as the foundational spirit. Not Vil. He was going to make it the star.) The young bartender then added an ounce of lemon juice, half an ounce of blackberry liqueur, and a quarter ounce of agave nectar.

After vigorously shaking the concoction, he extracted a small sample to taste test, then double-strained the rest into a coupe glass and pushed it my way. “Let me know what you think.”

Sweet and subtly tart, the sour-style cocktail was pleasingly herbaceous, albeit in an understated way. It seemed the perfect libation for an early evening in the Bahamas. “It’s good,” I told him, nodding as I took another sip.

“Now you have to name it,” he replied.

Fortunately, I came upon it almost as quickly as Vil settled on the drink’s recipe. “The Saint James,” I declared.

He smiled.

Negroni at the Orient Express La Minerva

If nothing jumps out to me on a cocktail menu, my go-to drink order is a Negroni. It’s been that way for years. I love a good old-fashioned, but I’m particular about how they’re made, and, if I’m being completely honest, I make a damn good one at home. So I’m picky.

A Negroni, on the other hand, is almost foolproof. Equal measures of gin, sweet vermouth, and Campari, the ratios are straightforward and consistent. Sure, I’ll lean a little more into my gin pour when I make one at home, but a standard Negroni is never going to disappoint.

So, you can imagine my delight when my host at the Orient Express La Minerva in Rome asked if I’m a Negroni fan. The La Minerva bar, he told me, makes the best one in the city; and a specific brand of vermouth is the bar’s secret weapon.

Unlike Carpano Antica Formula — a go-to sweet vermouth for boozy, spirit-driven cocktails — Mancino Rosso Vermouth, I discovered, is more savory-sweet (think sundried tomatoes). That bodes well in a bitter-forward drink like the Negroni. The drink that I was served was rich and robust, and while the bright citrus notes found in Campari were less present, an expression of lemon oils from a twist added just the right amount of acidity.

How much better was it than a Negroni made with a more common sweet vermouth? Let’s just say that when I got home, I went out of my way to seek out a bottle of Mancino, dropping $50 for it, which is a lot for vermouth. But it’s worth every penny, so long as you’re a fellow Negroni enthusiast.

Farwell Shot Aboard La Dolce Vita

At the conclusion of the Orient Express’ first golf journey across Italy just before the end of the year, I approached the train’s bar manager, Giuseppe Carillo, and asked him if there was a customary shot or drink that Italians would have together to bid each other a fond farewell. It only seemed appropriate to raise a glass with him and his team after a stellar four days aboard the luxury rail-liner, La Dolce Vita.

The question had barely left my lips and Carillo was already nodding and reaching for a cocktail shaker. In it, he poured a steady stream of Campari. Seriously, he poured a lot of Campari. To that, he added a generous splash of balsamic vinegar, then a sprinkling of salt. If I didn’t know he was making a round of drinks for his entire team, I would’ve thought I was about to be punked.

After loading the container with ice and giving it a vigorous shake, the young barman poured off a row of ruby-hued shots. We all reached for one and either sipped or knocked it back, and what I tasted was unlike anything I had had before. A pleasing blend of bitterness, sweetness, and salinity, it evoked Italian flavors and the Italian method for concocting them — simple construction, yet surprising depth.

If the shot has a name, Carillo never shared it. Fortunately, it’s simple enough to recreate without having a recipe. Admittedly, I haven’t nailed the ratios just yet, but every attempt has been tasty in its own way. That’s worthy of a “salut!” of its own.