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4.21.2011

las gorditas.

I feel like this is overkill, because lately I've been writing a lot about the restaurants in my neighborhood and how impressive they've become. So I guess I should get in the car and drive across town and find some hidden treasure on the east side of Vegas or somewhere in the suburbs of Henderson to share with you. I'll work on it. Until then, look what else I found just down the street!


Actually, Las Gorditas is not just close to me. There are four of these restaurants in a few different neighborhoods, so you can claim one as your own. These are very simple little Mexican joints, as casual as the cheapest taco shop you've ever wandered into, hoping for tasty authentic treats. The food is simple, too, and very good. The tacos are small, perfect bites, wrapped in two tiny corn tortillas, filled with your choice of meat and covered in cilantro, onions and "guacamole sauce." Do I have a problem recommending tacos with "guacamole sauce?" No. No I don't. There are burritos, quesadillas, and other familiar items, but as you have guessed, the gorditas are in the spotlight.


A Taco Bell gordita is not really a gordita. It's supposed to be a soft, flat disc of fried or griddle-cooked masa, essentially a thicker, freshly made tortilla, stuffed with lots of different things. I've made them at home in a slightly different form known as arepas in Venezuela and Columbia, but it's basically the same dish. It's not far from a Salvadoran pupusa, which is usually thicker and completely sealed up, masa enveloping the filling. These gorditas are open at one end for something of a sandwich effect. In fact, I had a red pork gordita recently at China Poblano in the Cosmopolitan hotel, and it was listed on the menu as a sandwich. And the popular hole in the wall Los Antojos serves very tasty, if much more greasy gorditas, deep fried for a rich, kinda cornbread effect. Here at the Las Gorditas, they are not greasy. The flavor is clean and there's a nice chew through the corny goodness. I tried gorditas with chicken mole, tender cactus in a tomato-chile red sauce, chicken simmered in a green chile sauce, and melty cheese and refried beans. All of them were tasty, satisfying soul food snacks, and I estimate I could eat about a dozen before giving up. Maybe not that many, but they sure are good and easy. That's how I like my Mexican food.

4.07.2011

a brief and charming history of marche bacchus.

UPDATE: Jean-Paul Labadie is no longer chef at Marche Bacchus.

Once upon a time in a place with the charmingly oxymoronic name of Desert Shores, there was a small, charming French cafe called Marche Bacchus. It was once a tiny market and sandwich shop in a nondescript little village of a shopping center, until a charming French couple, Gregoire and Agathe Verge, molded it into a very cool wine shop and bistro. The food was pretty good, the wine selection was fun and affordable, and the people in the neighborhood fell in love. They would come and enjoy the view of the man-made lake from the charming patio, and munch on fresh baguette with brie, slurp onion soup and devour sweet lobster salad tucked into buttery croissants. It was determined that Marche Bacchus was a neighborhood jewel, a hidden treasure in the Las Vegas dining landscape.


Then the owners decided to move back to France. The people were afraid their charming restaurant would go away. In fact, two of those people loved it so much, they decided to buy it in order to keep it the same. But they didn't do that. Jeff and Rhonda Wyatt actually made it better. They got more wine. They made that charming patio bigger, and installed protective measures so the people in the neighborhood could enjoy being outside even more than seven months out of the year. And they hired a chef (Jean Paul Labadie) with extensive experience at Emeril Lagasse's restaurants and just the right mix of precision and creativity. He kept the lobster croissants, onion soup and great platters of cheese and charcuterie, and added his own spice and flavor with dishes like chicken and sausage gumbo, pan roasted Idaho trout, braised short ribs with blue cheese mashed potatoes, and the big daddy: a seared duck breast with a dressing of foie gras and brioche and brandy-cherry glaze. Whoa. That's more than charming. (And this is the only place in Las Vegas where you can eat duck while making friends with one as he swims by.)


And, happily ever after, we eat this food.


Escargot baked in garlic herb butter.


One of my favorite things anywhere, the Gourmande Bacchus plate: brie and blue and other cheeses, two kinds of pate and other charcuterie, that damn addictive lobster salad, apples, cornichons, olives, yes please. You need more than one basket of bread to knock this out.


Seriously delicious trout.


Bread pudding, apple crisp with ice cream and Grand Marnier flourless chocolate cake.