hook me up with a good pan roast.

I spent a chunk of years working for the Las Vegas Review-Journal, which is located on the northwest edge of what is considered to be downtown. For some of those same years, I lived in the northwest part of the valley. Much of my time then was commuting on Rancho Drive, back and forth, passing Texas Station a few times every day. So I've eaten a lot of meals there, in one of Station Casinos' most humble properties. Lots of Fatburgers and Rubio's fish tacos, and not so much cafe and buffet food. (It should be noted, however, that Texas' steakhouse, Austin's, is pretty decent. Recently, it began serving a fun little happy hour menu from its A-5 bar, stuff like sliders and salads and fried shishito peppers.)


But most of my Texas Station lunches were at the Texas Star Oyster Bar, murdering many bowls of blisfully orange, seafood-laden pan roast. It had been a long time, years maybe, since I ate this lunch here. It's still pretty good, but it could have been fired up a bit. A pan roast is a weird, semi-Cajun seafood bisque, full of spices (paprika makes it orange), a little sherry and a lot of cream prepared in a steam cooker. At Texas, you can order it with shrimp, crab or oysters, or a combination of all of the above. Definitely get the combination. There is some white fish in there, too, and you have the option of white rice or pasta to soak up this rich, thick, fishy, totally-overdoing-it broth. It's also best to order it spicy, like I did, although it won't come hot enough. The thing about this dish is that it's huge. There's a reason you only ever get lobster bisque in a tiny little cup. This is a mighty big bowl of creamy, savory warmth, and yet I always eat at all. I love pan roast. What can I say?


There's other more pedestrian food at this oyster bar besides the raw stuff: fried seafood, sandwiches, salads. What kept me coming back, besides proximity and convenience, was the fact that there just aren't many oyster bars or seafood houses of this type anymore. It's kind of a played-out, throwback restaurant concept. There's only one southern seafood house I can think of in town -- Lola's downtown at the Holsum Lofts. Buzio's restaurant in the Rio used to serve a good pan roast, but that place has seen many menu changes and is more of a New England seafood spot now. In fact, most of the seafood restaurants in Vegas are closer to steakhouses with some fish on the menu. In fact, I can't think of an oyster bar anywhere in this town that's not inside a casino. I guess that makes me a tourist. Huh.

lunch at estiatorio milos.

As I said to some colleagues while I was eating this lunch at Milos, it's getting difficult to find new, fresh food to write about in Las Vegas outside of The Cosmopolitan. The local economy is still moving slowly and fewer restaurants are opening these days, so that's part of it. The fact that we're not going to have a giant resort opening with tons of new eateries inside it anytime soon is another part. But really, it's all about the fact that Cosmo totally hit the nail on the head in terms of what's hot in the food world right now and how to present it. The hotel's glitzy steakhouse STK is murdering it, everybody's still buzzing about the secret pizza shop, the wild China Poblano and the spaghetti at Scarpetta, and now, six months after opening, locals and steady Vegas visitors are discovering more good eats as they sample the "deep cuts" of Cosmo's culinary repertoire.

The 2011 Lunch Menu at Estiatorio Milos, priced at $20.11 for three courses, has been raved about by every local food writer and even some out-of-towners. It's an incredible deal considering the ingredients alone, as this restaurant -- transplanted from Montreal and set to open its fifth location later this year in Miami -- is known for flying in the freshest fish from the Mediterranean. The goal is to change the American perception of Greek food, and after one meal, it's safe to say this cuisine is unlike almost anything else you can get in Vegas. I think of it as the Greek answer to Bartolotta Ristorante di Mare at Wynn, another fantastic restaurant that spends a lot on jet fuel transporting goodies to the desert. The difference is Bartolotta has never done lunch, and the beautiful, wide open, tranquil room at Milos is much less imposing. It's a great place to eat, and noon is a great place to do it. I'm happy to join the local chorus in claiming this is the best lunch deal in Vegas. Here's a little look; now go get your own.

To start, the hortopita: delicate housemade phyllo stuffed with wild greens and aged feta cheese, served with salumi and the thickest, best Greek yogurt ever.

Then the fish: lavraki, or sea bass, served pretty much whole. This is much more food than it appears to be, especially since you're going to want every bite. The fatty, crispy skin parts are unreasonably delicious.

For dessert, Karidopita Me Pagoto. It was described as nutty cake with a little bit of ice cream, but it's actually a moist, fluffy brick of the stuff that makes baklava so awesome. It's beyond rich and seemingly impossible to finish. Especially after all that amazing fish.

golden gate = history.

I'm sitting at the counter in the diner inside the Golden Gate, devouring a wonderful cheeseburger. This is my last meal in the Bay City Diner, but I don’t know it yet. This old, reliable, downtown greasy spoon will become something else, something slightly different and even better.

But let’s focus on this cheeseburger. For months I've been riding a trend, eating and writing about fancy, 12 to 20-dollar gourmet burgers at restaurants on the Strip opened by famous French chefs, burgers with handcrafted, imported ingredients and a custom formulated blend of ground cow, but this thing is making me forget them all. It's a third-pound of chuck off the flat-top, dropped on a butter-toasted bun with extra crispy bacon, sauteed mushrooms and way too much melted Swiss, shredded iceberg, two big tomato slices, four nice dill pickle chips and a full disc of yellow onion. It was cooked by a very tall, very thin, very bald black man who's wearing an impossibly white coat, working hard without breaking a sweat, encased in a shiny, silver, grease-spattered kitchen a few feet in front of me. For a minute, he’s staring out at me through the big open kitchen window. His eyes seem to be asking what I think of this burger. I think it’s great. His nametag reads JOE and he's wearing gold hoop earrings and gold-framed glasses. How is his coat so white? He's teasing the waitresses, occasionally gyrating a little and singing "Freaky In The Club" by R. Kelly. That’s extra funny because that’s not the song playing over the tinny speakers in the diner. It’s “On My Own.” The waitress is ignoring his performance, instead trying to find out who's singing the piped-in song. It's Patti Labelle. High above the counter, mirrored display cases show you which pies and cakes are available today. The old man to my right has a handkerchief tied around his neck and is ordering a ham steak and eggs over easy with a side of sausage and orange juice, but he doesn’t want his juice until the food comes. The guy to my left is ignoring his cheese-covered omelet and calling in NBA point spreads to someone over the phone. This burger is gone. It was delicious, an exemplary, American cheeseburger.

The Golden Gate is the oldest hotel-casino in the state of Nevada. Also, it is older than the Golden Gate Bridge, which is interesting because it’s probably the only Vegas casino that’s been around longer than whatever it’s themed after. (Of course, the casino wasn’t always called the Golden Gate.) Perhaps it’s more interesting that in 1905, the hotel’s prime downtown location at Main and Fremont streets was the site of the land auction that began the Las Vegas town site. There were guests at what was then called Hotel Nevada that May, before there was a building, staying in a tent structure. Downtown Las Vegas was happening before it was downtown Las Vegas. When the mission-style building opened in 1906, people insisted on staying at the hotel before the interiors were completed. Casino action started in the spring of 1907 with roulette, craps and blackjack. The first telephone in Vegas was installed here, too. In the early 1930s, the joint changed its name. For around 20 years it was dubbed, quite ridiculously, Sal Sagev, or Las Vegas spelled backwards. The beginnings of its San Francisco-themed makeover took hold when a group of Italian-Americans from the Bay Area took over in 1955.

The boss of the Golden Gate today, a friendly guy named Mark Brandenburg, is a Las Vegas lawyer who ditched his practice to join the family business. His stepfather was one of those San Francisco guys, and around 1990, Brandenburg and his brother Craig started buying out those other owners. Since then, they’ve added a few hotel rooms and efficiently updated the property, turning it into something of an old-school boutique hotel on the old-schooliest street in Vegas. In 1996, for better or for worse, the classic downtown drag was forever altered when the Fremont Street Experience canopy was finished. This 1,500-foot ceiling of cheesy flashing lights brought some good to the five blocks of Fremont where the Gate, Plaza, Binion’s, Golden Nugget and other casinos reside (it’s much cleaner now and suitable for outdoor concerts and events) but it also transformed a nice chunk of our history into a nostalgic pedestrian mall. Visit and make your own judgments.

Sitting in his small, plain office upstairs from the casino, Brandenburg gives me a quick history of his family and his casino. Mom was from West Virginia. She stopped in Vegas on the way back from California and never made it home. It was the weather. She got a job as a cocktail waitress at the Gate and met Italo Ghelfi, the leader of that group of San Francisco guys, the one who ran the casino for 40 years. There’s a picture frame set on a shelf in this office, a photo of Ghelfi, and the guy looks mean. He’s kinda bald and he’s wearing dark glasses, like a clichéd character from that Vegas era. But Brandenburg assures me that’s not the case; he was another friendly guy, and quite the gaming pioneer. Ghelfi didn’t just keep the casino going. His innovations and ideas established a reputation on Fremont Street that Brandenburg and his co-owners are still taking advantage of today. Not every casino is so open and proud of its history. Most are caught up in making things new again, and again, and the Gate – which is a nice, clean place to gamble and party – is quick to remind you of a bygone era. It doesn’t want to change too much, and I don’t want it to. I didn’t want the Bay City Diner to change, but it did.

But wait, we’ve moved past something very important. The Gate’s casino is just fine. It feels like downtown, it’s kinda dark and whisky-friendly, and there’s a nice long bar resting beside the main stretch of table games. Some new bells and whistles have been added in the last year, including go-go dancers on busy nights and a frozen beverage bar in front of the main entrance on Fremont Street. As a hotel, I have no interest in the Gate because the accommodations don’t converge with my primary hotel principle, which states: If I can afford it, I don’t want to stay there. But I’ll allow some secondhand description from my kid brother: It’s tiny. I heard some of the rooms are the original rooms from when it was built, and I think that’s the room I got. It’s so small that the TV is on the side of the bed because it wouldn’t fit anywhere else. It’s so small the bathroom door won’t open all the way because it hits the toilet. I was terrified to walk in and out of my room because I kept thinking there’d be creepy twin sisters at the end of the halls. You get the picture.

Casino, hotel, diner … these are not the things the Golden Gate is known for. For most, it always has been ground zero for the shrimp cocktail. This is another Ghelfi innovation, obviously, coming from the Bay. It began in 1959 and it hasn’t stopped. As long as I can remember, the price was 99 cents, but today it’s $1.99. That gets you a tall, cool parfait glass, “the tulip,” overflowing with chilled, firm, large shrimp, doused in spicy cocktail sauce and served with a lemon wedge and as many Saltines as you need. There’s no lettuce. Who needs lettuce? I’ve brought a handful of people through here, some out-of-towners and some just out of touch with downtown, and everyone thinks the shrimp cocktail is a joke. But they try one, just for kicks, and they’ve all admitted: This thing is pretty good. The shrimp bar is at the south end of the casino, in the back, right down the stairs from Brandenburg’s office. He told me they’ve been going through about a ton of shrimp a week for a long, long time. I asked him how many times a day he asks his assistant to run down and grab him one. “I go down and get my own.” Yes. I would, too, many times a day. In the pantheon of Vegas novelties (and they are harder to acquire or experience than they used to be) the shrimp cocktail is one I refuse to go without. In any steakhouse, you can get a good one, but here, it is tradition. That’s what makes it taste so good.

But everything changes. Like the diner, the shrimp bar was the target of a subtle upgrade recently. There always was more than shrimp on the menu; hot dogs, deli sandwiches, surprisingly tasty, spicy vegetable soup and standard slices of pie were among the popular items. Now, the pie is way, way better. This is because of Du-par’s. Here’s the crazy connection that brought a famed L.A. coffee shop to historic downtown Vegas: Du-par’s owner Biff Naylor built the original kitchen in the Golden Gate diner. That’s because his dad, Tiny Naylor, was a former partner in the casino. The Naylors are a legendary California restaurant family, in case you haven’t heard, starting when Tiny opened up his waffle shops in 1926. They bought the 70-year-old Du-par’s chain in 2004 and kept things the same, particularly the restaurant’s famous, buttery pancakes and fresh-from-scratch pies. And so when Brandenburg went hunting for improvement, it was natural to transform my beloved Bay City Diner into Du-par’s Restaurant & Bakery. And I can’t complain, because the place looks exactly the same: the long, dark wood counter I call home, windows peering out to Main Street, red leather booths, the dining room in the back. The cuisine is mostly the same, classic breakfast, lunch and dinner at the diner. But now, everything is a little bit … better.

There’s no sign of JOE back in the kitchen, but many of the servers are still here. The cooks’ coats are still immaculately white, and now they’ve accessorized with a red handkerchief knotted around the neck. Those mirrored cases up above are now densely populated with pies, all kinds of pies, and they look and taste so much better than the Bay City Diner’s dessert offerings. On the counter, there are more cases, big round glass ones, holding gigantic, shining doughnuts. It’s difficult to get past the baked goods, to not order a sweet almond bear claw or mountainous muffin. But if you do move beyond breakfast – and know that those buttercrisp-edged pancakes live up to every ounce of their reputation – you’ll find some stellar throwback food, hearty all-American stuff like yellow split pea soup, meatloaf with mashed potatoes and mushroom gravy and tuna melts. But I needed the cheeseburger to be great in order to properly put things to rest, so after I tried all that stuff, and a few different flavors of pie, I went back for more. I sat at the counter. I considered the patty melt, a beautiful thing on grilled rye bread with just the right amount of caramelized onions, but I decided to stay pure. Bacon and Swiss burger, still all chuck, still with a pile of fries. It came out quick, and it wasn’t the same burger. It was probably better. The bun was great, fresh and soft. The bacon was smokier. The meat quality was several steps up, and not over-seasoned. Everything was right. I killed it with speed, and I left feeling satisfied and guilt-free. Change must be good, because I still have never left the Golden Gate after lunch feeling anything other than happy to be in Las Vegas.

joe's in the forum shops.

It's been ten years since I came back home to Vegas, and I've been thinking a lot about things (and restaurants) that have shaped my experience here. For better or worse, Joe's Seafood, Prime Steak and Stone Crab fits into that category.

When MenuVegas went up in the summer of '06, Joe's was the very first featured restaurant on the site. It was chosen not just because the food was good, but because it seemed like the epitome of what I then thought of as the Vegas restaurant experience. It's expensive. It's inside the Forum Shops at Caesars Palace. It's not really ours; it's an extension of an iconic Miami restaurant and operated by the Lettuce Entertain You company, which opened Joe's Chicago in 2000 and Joe's Vegas in 2004. So, like so much of this Vegas Experience, this restaurant is meant to re-create an entirely different, faraway destination. Also, it's nice. It's a classic dining room, all dark wood and white tablecloth. And the menu: seafood and steak, simple and timeless.

And still, five years later, pretty damn good. In my early visits to Joe's I was impressed with the sweetness of the namesake stone crab claws and the creamy crab bisque, and quite surprised by the steady steaks. The perfectly charred, bone-in, 16-ounce filet mignon I had on my first visit years ago remains one of the best steaks I've ever tasted. And maybe I was just in the right mood, sitting by myself at the bar, the first person in the restaurant, but today might have been the perfect lunch:
1. Hendrick's and tonic.
2. A wealthy bread basket.
3. A lot of chilled king crab legs. (The menu said 12 ounces but it had to be closer to 16.)
4. Potatoes lyonnaise, crispy and good.5. Sweet corn, pan-roasted.6. Strawberry pie and strong coffee.It was about $40 before the tip. Typically, I feel remorse after dropping this kinda money on lunch for one. Not today. The esteemed Max Jacobson recently reviewed the lunchtime offerings at RM Seafood, naming it one of the best places on the Strip for your mid-day meal. I wouldn't put Joe's at the level of Rick Moonen's place, but the lunch specials are very reasonable and, as you have just read, quite a bit of tasty food for twenty to thirty bucks.

Joe's is the type of restaurant I don't want to like. It's for tourists, sure, but so is everything else on the Strip. It's make-believe, yes. There is fresher seafood and richer beef to be found in this town. It isn't even close to being the best restaurant in Caesars. My skeptical side wants to slam this place, find something absolutely wrong with it. But I don't think that part of my brain got the message when I was fork-shoveling chunks of tender, butter-drenched king crab into my face at 11:30 this morning. I can't deny you, Joe's Stone Crab. You are good.

bartolotta, one of a kind.

Paul Bartolotta is a very celebrated chef, and his seafood-centric Italian restaurant at Wynn on the Strip is, likewise, a very celebrated destination. But no matter the richness of the resort or the dining room or the Midwest legend’s reputation, it all comes down to the food. At Bartolotta Ristorante di Mare, the food is delivered with simple elegance, in a manner reflecting the chef’s reverent respect of the region he’s trying to present to his fortunate diners.

Sure, it was named one of Esquire’s best new restaurants in 2005 and snagged the AAA Four
Diamond Award in 2006. And it earned Bartolotta another James Beard Award nomination,
even though he already won one in 1994. As grand as these accolades might be, and as
spectacular as the restaurant strikes you as you are lead through gold and rich red decor,
past columns and huge urns and down a dramatic spiral staircase to a light, plush dining room
overlooking serene waters, remember that this is a house built by a guy who loves what the
Italian seas have to offer. Yes, the place is a bank-buster, but it’s worth it with the consolation
that Bartolotta offers one of the most unique dining experiences in the city and an authentic
and creative twist on Italian food that the non-traveling American might never know.

Fish is the thing here, and it's sold whole by the gram. Seafood is delivered fresh daily, and
you don’t have to believe it because your server is going to bring you those whole, fresh fish
and shellfish on a giant silver tray and describe each of them in detail. The offerings change
frequently but sometimes include black striped bream, sea bass, turbot, spiny lobster, purple
snapper or John Dory. The preferred preparation is to roast the fish whole with a select few
seasonings, such as a white wine and clam broth, in order to bring out the subtle flavors, and
then serve them with a duo of simple but tasty sauces.

The menu is divided up in the traditional Italian manner, so you can run through your antipasti and pasta courses or mix and match. Antipasti selections are incredible and inventive, such as grilled cuttlefish with langoustines in a slightly minty tomato broth, or parmesan custard with basil, leeks and asparagus. Pasta dishes can be with or without seafood, including a creamy potato gnocci or a shellfish-laden risotto.

The presence of a restaurant like Bartolotta, and its success among the other fine options at
Wynn Las Vegas, only proves the evolution of the Vegas dining scene. A world-class, one-of-a-kind meal like this could only make sense in a one-of-a-kind place like ours.

INTERVIEW: Rick Moonen

Rick Moonen is chef/owner at RM Seafood in Mandalay Bay.

You opened at Mandalay Bay in February 2005. How was your first year in Vegas? What's the difference between operating here and in New York?

Rick Moonen: Well we've been through a lot of changes already. When we first started to make plans to come to Vegas we were partnering with Mandalay Bay, and now, of course, we're working with MGM (the parent company). MGM has been a terrific partner in the first year, but it's been a learning process and
we've had a lot of changes. I think we've stabilized now and we're doing a pretty formidable job. As for differences, well, Las Vegas is a lot more transient, obviously. It's been a bit of a challenge to learn a new market. You know, I'm an East Coast guy. I've been in New York for 30 years. But I'm not disappointed at all. Learning is an ongoing process. The market is just different. Plus, we're still learning about the locals here, and how to take care of their needs. We're all about hospitality.

You didn't originally plan to close rm seafood in New York to come to Vegas, right? You were going to maintain both?
When they first approached me, that's what I thought. Sure, I'd do it. But then I came out and I'm staring at this beautiful 16,000-square-foot space that's established, and I knew I needed to focus on Las Vegas 100 percent. There's a lot more opportunity here in Vegas.

Has your reputation and notoriety helped build your restaurants' following here, or has it been like starting over?
I knew that would be a contributing factor to my success here, but I didn't come out here to be a cocky New York chef. I came to learn. I love what I do. And Las Vegas has really become a competitive city. I mean, this is as good or better than most cities in the world. You have all the factors here. And as far as that celebrity stuff, I don't think of myself as a celebrity. I'm running a business serving extremely perishable items.

Speaking of perishable items, you're known not only for serving the freshest fish possible but also serving sustainable seafood. Can you explain the philosophy behind that?
Everything I put on my menus I've done research into in order to make sure it comes from an abundant stock, and one that is managed in an environmentally sound way. I don't serve Chilean sea bass, and I haven't for years. It's important to help educate our staff and customers to be able to make choices like this. You know, I've been going to the Fulton Fish Market for ages to get my stuff, and using these methods. I don't do it for publicity. And we're hoping to make a difference in Las Vegas, too, because so many visitors from so many different places are here, so maybe we have a better chance. You really can't order poorly from my menu as far as the environment is concerned. Did you know there's more shrimp served on a daily basis in Las Vegas than in the rest of the U.S. combined?

Has being in Las Vegas made a difference in your use of certain purveyors or having the availability of fish you're used to serving?
No. Not really. You're right next to California, and we know they have great produce and you can get a lot of great stuff from them.

What kind of unique experience do you try to offer at your two restaurants in Mandalay Bay, and what is the relationship between the downstairs r bar and the upstairs restaurant rm?
The r bar is unique because it's casual. We don't take reservations down there. You can come in straight from the pool in your shorts and flip flops and get crab cakes or clam chowder or exactly what you're looking for. It's a great place to try a bunch of side dishes and share with a group. And restaurant rm, that's our flagship. That's where we really get to shine, especially putting together the tasting menus. You know, it only seats 85 up there, so it's a small, intimate environment, a real fine dining experience. We have two separate kitchens, but there's a lot of crossover and we set it up that way on purpose. In the future, we'll be doing some sushi and some other things, but really it's all about the customer. If you want some r bar items when you're in the fine dining room, they're coming up.