Jesika von Rabbit is the witch who lures you into a candy house, the siren who pulls you close — even though you know better.
Music and Magic in the Mojave
You ain’t lived till you’ve rocked, ribbed, and raged at Pappy & Harriet’s Pioneertown Palace.
Pappy & Harriet’s Pioneertown Palace, a honky-tonk in the High Desert, is perched at the edge of a dusty town that was originally constructed to be an Old West movie set.
Aarti Brings the Party
The Food Network star welcomes you to her table at Palm Desert Food & Wine.
Cooking isn’t just about making food, says Aarti Sequeira. It’s your invitation to the table. Sequeira will hold a demo during Palm Desert Food & Wine.
Into the Wild
Immerse yourself in the desertscape.
The goal of Coachella Valley organizations like Friends of the Desert Mountains is to stoke a passion for the environment through recreation programs.
Design and Conquer
Raymond Loewy’s Studebaker Avanti elevated him to cultlike status … that, and his recipe for beer-steamed clams.
The Studebaker Avanti, designed by Raymond Loewy, couldn’t possibly be more Palm Springs, even if it were shaken and adorned with an olive.
Heal Thyself
There’s a whole other world past the massage table.
The first thing you’ll notice about Watsu is how comfortable the water feels — so slipping into the pool feels as natural as breathing.
2 Leagues Under the Sea
As the Salton Sea recedes, an environmental disaster looms, but just a few feet below the sea’s surface may be salvation.
Road House, Sans Swayze
It’s like your best friend’s house is a bar and a band is playing in the garage.
Wine bars are cozy and cocktail bars are a chic delight. But a roadhouse is like slipping on a well-worn glove. Good roadhouses have all the trappings of a traditional bar. Certainly there’s a bartender, some stools, and an array of taps. But there’s something else — an elusive, indefinable quality that makes this more than just a place to
Blooming Beauty
The desert may be inhospitable, but it is far from sterile.
It was dry in the desert. That’s the way it’s supposed to be, of course. But for me as a recent transplant to the Coachella Valley, the land here seemed particularly parched. The ground was rattlesnake colored but soft, like ash. I was about a mile, maybe two, into the slot canyon, on a hike with a group in an
