Killington is not trying to be quaint. It is enormous, busy, complicated and very good at providing somewhere to ski when smaller mountains have run out of options. Learning your way around takes a while; that is partly because there is so much of it.

Stratton offers the complete version of the southern Vermont weekend: a village, restaurants, lodging and a large mountain immediately above it. It is polished and convenient, two qualities that are expensive and, after a long drive on Friday night, sometimes worth paying for.

Stowe has serious skiing, a proper town, old inns and enough good restaurants to make staying after the lifts close seem sensible. Everyone eventually had the same idea; these days, the steepest thing in Stowe may be the real estate.

Belleayre has long cruisers, dependable snow and just enough old Catskills character to keep a state-run ski area from feeling institutional. It rarely demands your attention, which is precisely why regulars keep giving it theirs.

Hunter has enough steep terrain, fast lifts and snowmaking muscle to make the drive from New York entirely defensible. Unfortunately, several thousand other people tend to reach the same conclusion by Saturday morning.

Mount Snow knows exactly what it is: a big, accessible southern Vermont resort built to move a lot of people around the mountain. The grooming is extensive, the parks are serious, and on a Saturday morning you will not be the only person who had the idea.

Mount Peter has been teaching New Yorkers to ski on its modest slopes for generations, and remains very good at it. There isn't much mountain to conquer, which leaves more time to learn how to ski the one you've got.

Plattekill is one of the last family-owned mountains in New York. There are no RFID gates scanning your jacket, no multi-million dollar high-speed bubbles, and no high-end retail villages. It’s just a mountain, a double chairlift, and a parking lot.

Holiday Mountain is small, close to New York and increasingly determined not to apologize for either fact. New lifts and better snowmaking have followed, though thankfully nobody has thought to call it a resort village.

Victor Constant sits at West Point, where a chairlift carries cadets and civilians up a modest but surprisingly sporting hill above the Hudson. There are larger mountains farther north, though few require identification at the gate.

Thunder Ridge has night skiing, a good ski school and enough terrain to justify leaving work a little early. Its proximity to New York is convenient, provided you are not the only person who noticed.

Bienvenue à Jay. Almost Canada, technically Vermont. Jay Peak sits far enough north that getting there feels like part of the trip. It gets some of the best natural snow in the East, with 385 acres and 81 trails. There’s also an indoor waterpark, which sounds slightly absurd until you’ve spent a January afternoon in Vermont.

Sugarbush spreads across two mountains with steep woods, long runs and enough eccentric terrain to reward people who stop looking at the trail map. It is a large resort that has somehow retained places where nobody appears to be running one.

Jiminy has efficient lifts, extensive night skiing and enough infrastructure to make a weekend in the Berkshires unusually straightforward. Convenience is not normally romantic, but it is quite appealing when the temperature drops after four.

Berkshire East has real pitch, good woods and considerably more mountain than its Massachusetts address might suggest. It is the sort of place people underestimate once.

Windham has fast lifts, immaculate grooming and the sort of Catskills skiing that asks very little of you besides showing up. These days, getting onto the mountain may require more planning than getting down it.

Mountain Creek has four peaks, serious terrain parks, night skiing and enough snowmaking to make winter seem almost negotiable. Its proximity to New York is a considerable advantage, though several thousand other people tend to think so too.

Smugglers’ Notch—or Smuggs, as everyone calls it—spreads across three peaks in the Green Mountains, with 78 trails and roughly 1,000 acres. It has a longstanding reputation as a family mountain, though that description undersells the skiing. There’s plenty here once the kids have gone inside.

Ascutney once had chairlifts, a hotel and all the usual ambitions of a Vermont ski resort; now it has a T-bar, a rope tow and a community determined to keep skiing it. When the natural snow arrives, you can simply keep climbing beyond the lifts and discover how much mountain bankruptcy couldn't remove.

Bolton has always felt a little removed from the Vermont resort circuit. There are lifts, certainly, but also night skiing, Nordic trails and a great deal of woods—the sort of mountain where wandering off in another direction is often the better idea.

Bromley faces south, which means sunny afternoons matter here more than they do at most Vermont mountains. It’s friendly, manageable and particularly good at the increasingly underrated pleasure of simply having an easy ski day.

Burke is a long way from most things, which is part of the point. The skiing is sustained, the crowds are modest, and the mountain has little interest in pretending to be a resort town.

Catamount straddles Massachusetts and New York with friendly terrain on one side and a few runs steep enough to reconsider things on the other. It is a family mountain that occasionally forgets to behave like one.

Cochran's has little vertical, no chairlift and a habit of producing skiers who are considerably better than the mountain ought to allow. Apparently nobody told the Cochrans that a proper ski area requires much more than a rope tow and a stopwatch.

Mad River Glen has spent decades declining to become a modern ski resort. There’s a single chair, plenty of bumps, very little grooming where it isn’t necessary, and no snowboards. You either understand the appeal immediately or probably won’t.

Magic is not especially polished, and its regulars would probably be concerned if it became so. The trails are narrow, the woods are interesting, and when the snow is good there are few places in southern Vermont you’d rather be.

The Snow Bowl belongs to Middlebury College and still feels like the sort of place skiing used to produce more often. It’s small, affordable, pleasantly uncomplicated, and rarely requires much of a plan.

Okemo is exceptionally good at removing surprises from a ski day. The trails are groomed, the lifts are plentiful and families can generally find what they need without much trouble. For some skiers this is faint praise; for others it is precisely the point.

Pico sits next to Killington but seems largely uninterested in competing with it. The mountain is substantial, the pace is slower, and you can spend a day skiing instead of figuring out which base area you’re supposed to be in.

Saskadena Six is modest in all the right ways. It’s a small hill outside Woodstock where families learn to ski, locals know one another, and nobody needs a trail map for very long.

West Mountain has enough vertical, a few properly steep runs and lights that keep the lifts turning well after sensible people have gone home. There are bigger mountains farther north, but they aren't much use on a Tuesday night.