Flying into Vegas for perhaps the last time, must get as much enjoyment out of the trip as can be squeezed.
Air Canada insisted I check my bag, so for the first time since 2006 I did that. Had an apple juice on the flight. I had bought my ticket 5 months ago but was flying standby? Weirdness. They asked for someone to check their luggage, and then imposed it upon the last travelers to be seated, which worked out wondrously for me. As I was awaiting, for a very small amount of time, my bag, a man came up to me and asked if I were Monique’s Daddy? I said yes. Then he yelled at his blond wife and daughters of perhaps High School age, that here was Monique’s Daddy. As if they knew who Monique was, or cared. He asked me if I’d come here to gamble, and I said no, just to eat, hoping that my culinary choices would not be a gamble. He asked if Mama were with me and again, I said no. Vegas is not a place Fumiyo would enjoy. I find my ride, the Greek foodie Autumn and am off to the Luxor. They offered me an online check in but I failed to understand how that could happen, in that I’d need a card to open my door. I am from an earlier era. From my ride in Autumn’s truck, I am once again re-acquainted with the garages of Vegas, a world of which I would otherwise be profoundly ignorant. We have to memorize where we are parked. I recall this elevator world from last year. It’s a pretty elevator, if that’s a thing. Autumn orders the Pablo, my first cocktail last year, and I order the Lettre a Coco, her first cocktail last year. They are both fine drinks. My sea bream was too fishy. It was replaced by the same dish Autumn had. Not bad, but not sensational, as was last year’s salt baked sea bass. A and I split the burrata, which was excellent. Not revelatory, as the burrata in Madrid was, not even as mildly pushing it along as the burrata at Published, yet, it delighted my palate, far more than the over-hyped fish.
My sea bream looked like a slice of pizza and tasted, well, i had to send it back because of its intense fishiness. Its replacement, Autumns already ordered fish: the grilled Chilean sea bass inched its way to quality dining. It did attain that plateau (which is what I come to these restaurants for) but just barely. The whole meal made it because of the burrata and my dining companion once again at this oddly empty restaurant. I think the two of us, having a reservation, when we appeared, doubled the number of people in the very large restaurant. Is it because Canadians are staying home? Has the food descended in quality that rapidly? Wow. The drinks too, were not as good as they were last year. Why is that? Same ingredients, yet that taste summit no longer achieved. Have my palate expectations accelerated outside of this restaurant’s ability to create expected exquisitry? Perhaps. Always, when I travel, I expect the best food soonest. My first meal should be fantastic, as it reliably was in the cities in Spain I visited last year. This trip, not so much,and that means something. That means I can look up or down for fine food, but should not expect culinary revelations, which is what I come to Vegas for. Bummer.
Back at the Veranda for its Frittata Bianca the following morning. It’s OK. Along with the chamomile tea, a fine breakfast, after a comfortable stroll from the Luxor. The day is off to a good start. Lunch at Milos, the same salt-baked halibut as last year. Is it as good? No. But it’s still pretty good. This time I avoid last year’s bad mock-tail and get some wine, which pairs perfectly with the fish. Things are sailing today.
Then a long walk to the Museum of Illusions. Autumn had told me she’d taken people there recently, only for them to ask to be rescued from it 45 min later. It only took me 37 minutes to decide I’d had enough, and more time than necessary was spent waiting to get into the Infinity Room, which was a far cry from Yayoi Kusama’s Infinity room and other attempts at this concept. I did enjoy it, most likely because of the intoxicants, which greatly enhanced the museum. Puzzling optics and optic puzzles galore. When I was strolling around Madrid last year, I noticed that it too had a Museum of Illusions, so it’s obviously a chain. It’s good for the brain. Check it out, if it opens near where you are,
Jose Andres has a new bar in Crystals.
I like bars. I go there. Its a Coffee bar. I didn’t know there were such things. I’m appalled. Coffee is not for me. Thankfully, it’s upstairs restaurant Bazaar Mar opens at 5. I’m there. Pretty place. I’ve studied its menu studiously and order the crab chawanmushi and it is structurally ecstatic. The ratio is about 65% crab, 35% egg custard. Usual chawanmushi is the opposite. Then comes the lobster cro-kettas. They descend into a vast hole of mediocrity. I complain to first my server, than the manager. I wonder why this new restaurant would tolerate such radiant mediocrity, a kind of new level of banality, an insult to the serious palate. She said I was entitled to my opinion. But no longer my patronage. The Japanese peach dish was pretty but alarmingly deficient in flavour. Having eaten at all of Jose’s Vegas spots, along with his original restaurant in DC, I’ve had fewer memorable meals in all of them than I have fingers on one hand. I think his World Central Kitchen is doing wonderful work and Jose is a great humanitarian, but most of his of his food sucks. Thanks for feeding all those starving Ukrainians, Jose, but your food invents new depths of mediocrity.
Tuesday morning, Lyft to the Durango, which is Far Away, and just as empty as LPM. More missing Canadians? I was told this was a busy time for Vegas. Big casino with few users,and no one in the restaurants. I find my destination, the Oyster Bar, only vaguely open, and I’m given a bowl of soup that could feed several hungry Ukrainian soldiers. I thought it would be interesting to stroll around the Durango, but that was not the case. Boring, and cold outside. I go to Milos later for their big eye tuna with baby beets, which is $10 more than the halibut and 50% less enjoyable, but still pretty good, particularly with the cheapy Greek wine. The Oyster bar breakfast soup was kind of a waste and the aesthetics of the Durango were non-existent, yet I expect all days to be good days when I travel, if only because they are travel days highly attuned to pleasure. If you seek, you’ll usually find, eh? Things are going downhill from Milos. I walk over to the Paradox museum and am treated to out-takes from the Illusion Museum. It doesn’t suck as much as Jose’s crokies, but in that league of stunning mediocrity. A number of the exhibits require 2 people, one to participate and the other to take pictures, and there’s only one of me, alas. I’m getting the impression I’ve maybe come to Vegas too many times.
I have been seeking Jenny Yim at the Chandelier Bar in the Cosmopolitan hotel since she first made me amazing drinks at the Vesper Bar in 2018. Last year, I visited the Vesper, previously my favourite bar in Vegas, only to hear my bartender totally diss Jenny and mock my interest in an apricot-based cocktail. OK, I went over to the nearby Bellagio and had a wondrous apricot cocktail at Club Prive, and did so again on this trip. My bar tender was silent last year; this year the guys actually spoke, and to some length. Just before the bar trip, I had been to the Jazz/Art show at the Bellagio Gallery of Fine Art, which was delightful.
Because I’m a regular at the gallery, they gave me a voucher for a free drink at Club Prive so I get vastly stimulating art and drink, all this after a tasty piece of halibut at always reliable Milos. What could go wrong? I come to Vegas to have an amazing time, and usually do. At Vesper, the vastly superior bar tender spoke of Jenny Yim with reverence. Said she now worked at LPM, where I’d just dined the previous night, totally unaware of her presence.
Does Amalfi has spaghetti made out of zucchini? It was advertised as such, but not delivered, It;s just normal spaghetti with slices of zucchini in a sauce that is REALLY GOOD.
I have no idea who Bobby Flay is, and suggest Flay is not a good name for a cook, suggesting pain he is about to inflict on our tongues, but this spaghetti sauce was a revelation, and the meal was the best I had in Vegas, and I come here only to eat, eh? Then the Long Lyft ride to Bramaire for their excellent swordfish Milanese: pan fried, arugula,fennel, crispy potatoes and caviar sauce. It too is a largely empty restaurant, which depresses me as good food should be patronized. Innovative Italian cuisine? I don’t know about that. I’d have to spend some time at Bramaire to see what innovations they are exploring, but I’m happy enough with my swordfish to recommend the place, far more than the unhappy swordfish meal I had at Vetri last last year. Hey restaurants, Do Good Things or don’t put the failures on your menus, eh?
Wednesday
Off to the new Fountainbleu for its restaurant’s asparagus omelet, but alas, said restaurant was closed. And my Lyft app no longer worked. Apparently, my credit card had been hacked. Thankfully I also had another card and the Uber app. I’d never used it before, but it worked and I was on my way to Esther’s Kitchen. Cauliflower and Eggplant parm sandwich and a far too sweet cocktail. Esther Looks really close to the Haunted Museum but it ain’t that close. Not that painful on the feet as the unintentional Santa Fe walk to the artist’s space and then Meow Wolf, which was feet damaging in the heat of Santa Fe noon. I know who Bilbo and Frodo Baggins are, but not Zak. He does take ghosts and deviltry quite seriously. I do not. About half the group of 12 choose not to see graphic depictions of violence. I don’t need that at all. Kind of depressing, over all. I Uber back to the Luxor, and later to the Bellagio for dinner at Micheal Mina. Superb Branzino and so called Magic Mushrooms, along with a couple of tasty drinks. My server tells me they’re not psychedelic mushrooms, just magically delicious and the small quality of cheese foam on top is wonderful, but there’s too little of it. I only had a half order of fish and it was plenty. I walked 19,000 steps on Monday and another 17,000 on Tuesday, so I had a big appetite both days. Today, only 8,000 so the appetite as similarly diminished.
I always eat Really Well in Vegas, which is why I come here. The mushroom, kale and cheese omelet at Veranda is my last meal here and it is delicious, but then again, I discover Quiznos at the Vegas airport. It has disappeared from Vancouver, but I had loved their tuna subs so order one. Still great, and I enjoyed the luscious irony of eating a tuna sandwich before I boarded my plane to Vegas, and again on my trip home. I had to change planes in Seattle and was still struggling to deplane there just as my Vancouver flight was about to board. Too many airports. My book for the trip was Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail by Hunter Thompson. The book for my first trip was Hunter’s previous book, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Hunter is always a wonderful companion. The lesson from my 11 trips to Vegas is simple: Your palate is on your side.