I was sipping a frosty apres cocktail slopeside one recent ski day when I noticed my friend Dave’s comment on my insta post.

“Flatton,” he wrote.

“Oh yeah?” I replied, typing with gusto. “Try Strattastic!”

He was talking about one reputation of Stratton, the Southern Vermont mountain resort known for being beloved by mostly upper crust folks from nearby New York and Connecticut.

And sure, I’ll give Dave this: You’re most likely not going to find yourself staring down into a couloir at Stratton. In most cases, you won’t need a beacon or shovel just in case. And you can and will find upscale food and some expensive village shops.

But I also give him this: You will find yourself cruising impeccably maintained trails, a shiny refurbished base lodge, a ski school crew that’s not only renowned, but many have been there for decades (a rarity in the industry, and if you ask me, proof they know what they’re doing) and lifts that run well and get you – in most cases – to where you want to be right away.

There are some other things you’ll find too: An adorable village with food choices ranging from free wings on Tuesdays at the Green Door Pub to over-the-top steak presentations at Carve, slopeside lodging that’s convenient, cozy and well kept, and oh, if you get lucky: A World Cup or Olympic hero who just happens to be riding the lift with you.

I’ve skied the world and I say it with conviction: I like Stratton. Because while it may be true that Stratton is unabashed at its love of doing things a little extra at times, it’s also a true skier’s locale. More than a few world champions have risen from those trails, and more than a few call it their home mountain still.

Some, like Lindsey Jacobellis, the most decorated snowboard cross competitor of all time, travel the world and then return to call those trails home.

I returned to Stratton recently, having not been since PP (PrePandemic – it’s a thing!) to see how things were going. Last time I’d been, an unexpected two and a half feet of snow fell overnight. I was at a ladies ski camp and we grabbed fatter skis and spent all day playing in the deep, soft snow and trees. Needless to say, it had a lot to live up to.

This trip was different. Early season in the east had been, thus far, brutal. We’d reached a point – we skiers and riders – of being beggars not choosers, so my expectation was low.

Surprise, surprise. From my slopeside Long Trail condo my first morning, I saw that the snow was indeed falling again. And while that may not be enough for your average ski area, Stratton knows how to build and manage a base – so I assumed that snow would be enough to make the day worthy.

Worthy is right. But first, the commute. Stratton’s entire housing complex – which is quite large – loops around the resort, meaning just about every place you stay is walkable. If not, shuttles run so often I feel like their driving staff might number enough to serve as an election voting bloc. There’s always one in sight or on its way.

Me? I simply walk along the heated sidewalk of the village and then hop on the lift and go. I carry my skis day one, but should you not like that, there’s a slopeside ski check right at the gondola. And consider this: My friend and I realized as we approached the ski check ($3 for a few hours; $8 for overnight), we realized we were cashless.

We asked about an ATM and the ski check man said, “Oh, don’t worry about it! Just leave them! I don’t mind.” When we claimed our skis later we paid and tipped him richly. He was surprised we bothered. Nice guy; and if that’s what upscale ski service is like, I’ll take it.

I hopped the gondola to the top and started out with a long, lovely cruise down Black Bear, one of Stratton’s favorite mid-level cruisers. The base felt just fine – deep enough to let me carve and maintained in a way that nixed ice or dirt patches (it’s been that kind of year). On top of it, the five inches or so of snow was fluffy and fun to carve through. It was like Hallmark Christmas movie skiing.

It being a weekday, I was able to find fresh, fresh tracks all day long. The gondola was great for warming up, but the chairs are fast enough to get you there without too much chill, even on this single digit temp day.

Though I did opt to take the slow, older Tamarack Lift twice – not to get away from the posh that is Stratton, but to access it all the better.

Below that chair, you see, no one was skiing (to avoid the slow lift which will be replaced in the coming years). Me? I knew that meant fresh powder. My tracks were among the only in that half a foot of new stuff, a priceless experience at no added cost. Yummy.

I skied three days, the first that snowy day and then two days of faster but forgiving cruisers. One day, I was with a friend who happens to be a World Cup champ, and her partner, a man who knows how to turn a ski.

At the bottom of a top to bottom run, he lit up with glee. “That,” said this man who has skied the world, “was a fantastic run.”

Or, as I said to Dave: Strattastic. I’m all in.