bradley ogden.

Visiting friends (including these two again) and family celebrations were the excuses used to blow big cash for a fancy Valentine's Day dinner out, and my party of eight selected Bradley Ogden at Caesars Palace. By the looks of the casino and Strip traffic, the V-Day weekend may have been a much-needed boost for Vegas. I feel fine with my own contribution to the economy, evidenced by my gleeful snatch of the bill to see if we broke into four digits.

Bradley Ogden is considered by most as one of the top overall rooms in the city and as this was my first meal at the nearly six-year old restaurant -- Ogden's first outside California -- expectations were high. Incredibly high. Some of this excitement was built around the rare opportunity, for me, to go out plus 7, paving the way for a truly comprehensive experience. Lucking into this opportunity, I didn't disappoint, and neither did the restaurant. Mr. Ogden himself even strolled out of the kitchen to visit several tables (but not ours) during the almost four hours we were there, which is always nice to see when you're on the Strip and every restaurant has a big name on the wall but not necessarily in the kitchen.

In a word, outstanding.

A couple bottles of Melville Pinot Noir (which was Californian, people, not Oregonian like you thought) and too many $8 bottles of Voss accompanied farmers market green and Caesar salads, twice baked Maytag blue cheese souffle, squash soup, butter poached Alaskan king crab with Fuji apples, seared Sonoma foie gras, roasted chicken, scallops, pork loin, roasted sturgeon and bison. Everything was great and everyone was happy. The service was comfortably slow (until we tried to pay, then it became uncomfortably slow) and the staff was friendly and warm.

There were highlights, and they were very, very high. At least a couple of our almost vegetarians were completely turned by the South Dakota bison, which was plated as two small tenderloin filets on a dense potato pave, granola and a currant-red wine sauce. This was perfection: moist, lean, slightly smokey to stay in touch with the cowboyishness of the meat, and so delicious that we will wonder for a while why people eat beef. The foie gras, too, with a whimsical peanut butter and jelly accompaniment, was mind blowing. My chosen entree, the Duroc pork loin, was good enough (I'm still adjusting to piggy done on the rare side) but the top tastes on this plate came from the braised cabbage underneath and the spiced apples and bacon on top. I'm not complaining, because the Caesar was strong and the crab was fucking amazing. And there was a lot of crab on the dish, huge sweet chunks among strands of apple and a foam that tasted of creamsicle. Seriously. Ogden's crew also amuse bouched us with a little lobster and citrus, talked us into desserts of ice cream, rich cheesecake with berries and coconut flan, and threw in another something sweet with creamy shots of the best butterscotch pudding ever.

Before dinner, I was explaining to one of these good friends that my recent dilemma, as a developing Vegas epicurean, is highly recommended restaurants that simply cannot meet the expectations that grow and grow with each new fantastic meal. That wasn't a problem at Bradley Ogden. To walk into a high-priced restaurant on the Strip and automatically expect the best meal of your life, well, maybe that's foolish. But this was one of the best, even if the company had a lot to do with it.