Just because there is a ton of food in the house doesn't mean we shouldn't go out. Actually, it does, so the blame for going out on Thanksgiving weekend falls to those friends who come to town. There is a slightly odd feeling when "entertaining" friends who grew up in Vegas with you and return to see their families for holidays. You try to pick a place to go out together, but you can't really impress them because they know everything already, and they're over it. There's pressure and no pressure at the same time. It's strange.
The friends, S+M, grew up Vegas and have since been all over the world. They currently reside in Sacramento for no good reason. They greatly appreciate epicurean adventures and we always say we're going to do grand dining tours of Vegas' top restaurants, but we seldom have the time or disposable income to realize the dinners of our collective dreams. On our last adventure, I foolishly took them to the then-newly opened Company in Luxor and although the food was tasty, it managed to become a disaster.
This time around, because of Thanksgiving and family commitments, we didn't do dinner but we did get some drinks and snacks at the newest restaurant in the Bellagio, Yellowtail. Sitting at a small, comfy table in front of the bar, adjacent to the casino, perfect for people watching as douchebags, girls with super short dresses and George Maloof wandered about, we had dirty martinis and too-sweet bourbon drinks and a pleasant variety of delicious vegetarian small plates. The seaweed salad was a simple and pure revelation, putting anything else I've ever had to shame. It was a colorful red, white and green plate, and all the varieties were tender and clean-tasting, except for one leafy green selection that appeared to be lightly fried. I never thought I'd think seaweed amazing. We also had sea salted and chili-sauced edamame and grilled eggplant skewers, bathed in a sweet miso. Yellowtail, headed by Korean chef and former pro snowboarder Akira Back, has been very well reviewed and apparently deserves the accolades. I'm looking forward to a proper meal there, perhaps with S+M.
Saturday marked a return to what I am now convinced is the definitive Mexican restaurant in Las Vegas, Border Grill at Mandalay Bay. I accept that I am partial to Mexican food and so it is hard to be critical, especially when so many restaurants are so similar in quality and cuisine. I generally prefer the more creative spots on the Strip (Diego at MGM, Isla at Treasure Island) to the more traditional, home-style eateries around Vegas. But this was my third time at Border Grill and it keeps getting better. Well, at least the food does. The restaurant was renovated over the summer and it looks a little boring. Formerly colorful, open and lively, it's now trying to be a sleek, dark steakhouse. (At least the upstairs is. I didn't go down there, but I'm assuming the lower level is still a little more bright and casual to match the poolside patio.) The new decor threw me off a little, but the food was beyond impressive so I guess we'll let it slide. Along with perfectly adequate chips and salsa, we started with plantain empanadas, a perfect salty-and-sweet bite. A favorite we've sampled before, the smoked brisket taquitos, were great again. But the star was Cochinita Pibil, tender marinated pork roasted in a banana leaf with cinnamon, orange and other tasty things and served with caramelized plantains, pickled onions and two handmade corn tortillas. I didn't even touch the tortillas. The flavor of the moist pork was so warm and satisfying, I couldn't bring myself to consume a forkful of anything else. Well, except for the sweet plantains. They were a perfect match, like having dinner and dessert all at once.
Later that night we met again with S+M at Payard patisserie, the Caesars Palace playground of probably the best pastry chef around, Francois Payard. I was still too full, although we did buy a flourless chocolate chip cookie that I'm eyeballing as I type this. But S+M polished off a banana nutella crepe, which sounds pretty fucking good. As we were reflecting on the pastries, chocolates and coffees to be had, S revealed that these French goodies are, in fact, not really better in France. He says they're the same. They just taste better because you know you're in Paris. And you can get them from a street cart instead of parking at some goliath casino resort and walking forever to find and purchase something that costs three times as much. Yes, this is our problem in Vegas; we've got the goods, all of them, but we know it. And shit, how awesome would it be if the Strip was lined with litte streetfood vendors?
The friends, S+M, grew up Vegas and have since been all over the world. They currently reside in Sacramento for no good reason. They greatly appreciate epicurean adventures and we always say we're going to do grand dining tours of Vegas' top restaurants, but we seldom have the time or disposable income to realize the dinners of our collective dreams. On our last adventure, I foolishly took them to the then-newly opened Company in Luxor and although the food was tasty, it managed to become a disaster.
This time around, because of Thanksgiving and family commitments, we didn't do dinner but we did get some drinks and snacks at the newest restaurant in the Bellagio, Yellowtail. Sitting at a small, comfy table in front of the bar, adjacent to the casino, perfect for people watching as douchebags, girls with super short dresses and George Maloof wandered about, we had dirty martinis and too-sweet bourbon drinks and a pleasant variety of delicious vegetarian small plates. The seaweed salad was a simple and pure revelation, putting anything else I've ever had to shame. It was a colorful red, white and green plate, and all the varieties were tender and clean-tasting, except for one leafy green selection that appeared to be lightly fried. I never thought I'd think seaweed amazing. We also had sea salted and chili-sauced edamame and grilled eggplant skewers, bathed in a sweet miso. Yellowtail, headed by Korean chef and former pro snowboarder Akira Back, has been very well reviewed and apparently deserves the accolades. I'm looking forward to a proper meal there, perhaps with S+M.
Saturday marked a return to what I am now convinced is the definitive Mexican restaurant in Las Vegas, Border Grill at Mandalay Bay. I accept that I am partial to Mexican food and so it is hard to be critical, especially when so many restaurants are so similar in quality and cuisine. I generally prefer the more creative spots on the Strip (Diego at MGM, Isla at Treasure Island) to the more traditional, home-style eateries around Vegas. But this was my third time at Border Grill and it keeps getting better. Well, at least the food does. The restaurant was renovated over the summer and it looks a little boring. Formerly colorful, open and lively, it's now trying to be a sleek, dark steakhouse. (At least the upstairs is. I didn't go down there, but I'm assuming the lower level is still a little more bright and casual to match the poolside patio.) The new decor threw me off a little, but the food was beyond impressive so I guess we'll let it slide. Along with perfectly adequate chips and salsa, we started with plantain empanadas, a perfect salty-and-sweet bite. A favorite we've sampled before, the smoked brisket taquitos, were great again. But the star was Cochinita Pibil, tender marinated pork roasted in a banana leaf with cinnamon, orange and other tasty things and served with caramelized plantains, pickled onions and two handmade corn tortillas. I didn't even touch the tortillas. The flavor of the moist pork was so warm and satisfying, I couldn't bring myself to consume a forkful of anything else. Well, except for the sweet plantains. They were a perfect match, like having dinner and dessert all at once.
Later that night we met again with S+M at Payard patisserie, the Caesars Palace playground of probably the best pastry chef around, Francois Payard. I was still too full, although we did buy a flourless chocolate chip cookie that I'm eyeballing as I type this. But S+M polished off a banana nutella crepe, which sounds pretty fucking good. As we were reflecting on the pastries, chocolates and coffees to be had, S revealed that these French goodies are, in fact, not really better in France. He says they're the same. They just taste better because you know you're in Paris. And you can get them from a street cart instead of parking at some goliath casino resort and walking forever to find and purchase something that costs three times as much. Yes, this is our problem in Vegas; we've got the goods, all of them, but we know it. And shit, how awesome would it be if the Strip was lined with litte streetfood vendors?
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