Viva Las Vegas - Could You Point Me Towards the Vomitorium

A business trip brought me to Las Vegas for the first time the other week. I was skeptical of course, how would grown-up Disneyland seem to a jaded New Yorker with a distaste for crowds? I decided to follow in Le Bourdain's footsteps and make sure I ate a number of nice meals in an attempt to make sure I would have something good to say about the town when I returned.

I needn't have worried. I saw the lobby of my hotel and the inside of the office building where I was working and little else. However, each evening I had a reservation and a table for one awaited me if I could only navigate beyond the glittering lights and tinkling machines.

I dined with clients on the first evening at Craftsteak. This was my first meeting with the clients and I feared their response to something overly precious or complicated and figured that everyone, save vegetarians, can get in the mood for steak so steak it was. Regrettably, I didn't take pictures as I thought that might undermine my professionalism.

I can say, though, that I had an entirely serviceable meal. The meat was very well done, the sides full of butter and cream, and the wine a terrific accompaniment. Except well, the wine...was...RIDICULOUSLY EXPENSIVE. I'm not one to balk at the 250% premium I pay on a regular basis when I drink wine at a restaurant, but Las Vegas's markups were bordering on the ridiculous: $25 bottles were being poured by the glass at $18. Howvere moderately inflated I might have found the prices of the food relative to Manhattan, the wine prices were just a joke.

Something brought into sharp relief the next night at Bouchon.

Granted, I got to walk past the fake canals of Venice through the heavily ornate interior of the Venetian hotel on my way to the restaurant and was able to spend a truly terrific 15 minutes prior to arriving by the Venetian's pool, reading a book, smoking a cigarette or two, and delighting in the balmy evening temperatures that hovered around 70 degrees.

I had a string pulled to get me an earlier reservation: 9:00pm vs. 10:30pm, but I wondered if I needed bother. The restaurant was nowhere near full when I arrived (which makes me a little dissatisfied with my table without a view (but I do acknowledge that a single diner gets the short end of the table selection stick). My food, though, was nothing short of perfect.

I'll admit my stomach was rebelling over the amount of 15% alcohol California zin I had objected it to the night before and did not at all agree with my choice of appetizer and main course, but we settled the dispute between ourselves when I opted for two half glasses of wine from the "Sommelier's Selection-" a way to charge me $17 for a half glass of wine while making me feel good about it. I rationalized this by not ordering the $50 plate of foie gras.



I started with the duck confit over braised mustard greens garnished with blood orange. The highest compliment I can pay to Bouchon is that decorum only prevented me from sucking the tiny bits of meat off the bone. It was a perfect duck confit, marred only by my stomach saying to me at one point, "are you kidding me, lady?" The skin was crispy, the meat was dripping in fat and pulled delightfully away from the aforementioned bone. I ate the tiniest ladylike bites I could muster simply to prolong the eating experience, and to prevent myself from ordering seconds.

Without a second thought to my gastrointestinal distress, I followed it up with the braised beef cheeks with French lentils.



Not the most diverse-hued of a dish, but boy did it make up for it by displaying a range of unctuousness I thought was reserved for things like straight melted goose fat.

My stomach and I skipped dessert, rationalizing this deprivation by the selection of probably wonderful but traditional bistro desserts on offer - the signature chocolate bouchons having been lovingly consumed on many other occasions at the bakery outpost in the Time Warner Center.

But if these forays were the appetizers in our Roman orgy of food, the main course was something we couldn't have expected and, sorry to say, can't be super forthcoming about.

Wednesday night in Vegas I dined at a restaurant whose name I am not at liberty to reveal because I don't want my review to seem biased and a close relative works for the restaurant group. Let it be said, though, that if you ever have a chance to be considered a VIP guest at any restaurant, you should take it and take it quickly before they realize you're a nobody who happens to be related to somebody and whisk you away to a table in the kitchen where they feed you potato peels.

I was warmly welcomed and ushered to the best seat in the house - outdoors where I was blissfully permitted to smoke. My waiter appeared with a wine list and mentioned to me that there was no menu because the chef wanted to cook for me (if that isn't music to my ears). He politely inquired if I had any food preferences to which I responded no (as I firmly believe one should unless one is deathly allergic to something. There are foods I never thought I would like or consent to eat that I have delighted in because I left myself in a chef's hands).

And the cavalcade commenced.

I started with a sadly unphotographed amuse of potato pancake with horseradish and cranberry relish.



A trio of appetizers followed.



Porcini quiche with parmesan tuile, merguez sausage and falafel, and parsley cream stuffed chicken wing. I'm a sucker for merguez so I'm going to annoint that two bite wonder the winner. As soon as I finished the plates I realized with alarm that I ought not to have eaten the whole thing - there was bound to be more to come.

Next up was deconstructed Nicoise salad



I used to be frightened of raw fish - deeply deeply frightened. And I'll admit, though it does lower me in the estimation of many, that I'm still not sold enough to make an entire meal out of it, but I've come to really enjoy raw fish as part of a larger meal. For my Passover seder I traded gefilte for tuna tartare. This salad in two parts was one part tuna tartare with duck egg (and I think I've mentioned before what a big fan I am of egg yolk as dressing) and one part Nicoise salad vegetables. I was struck by how the deconstruction wasn't gimmick-ey but necessary for the enjoyment of the dish: had the tuna been part of the salad with an egg topping it, the whole thing wouldn't have been nearly as good. It was far more satisfying to take, chew, and digest a bite from one side and follow it with a bite from the other.

Next up was torchon de foie gras. I'd love to show you how beautiful this presentation was: stark white plate, cylindrical marvel of foie gras, tiny diced and compoted apples, beautiful dollop of mustard chantilly. But I can't. Because as soon as I saw the foie, I pounced. I didn't even realize I was doing it. In fact, it wasn't until the plate looked like this:



did I realize that I hadn't taken a picture. So I give you what it looks like when I meet torchon. It isn't pretty.

Having settled the first part of the meal, I was now in for it. I mean, obviously I ate the entire bit of foie gras - it would have been absolute sin not to. But I was now uncomfortably full and we hadn't even reached main courses.



This is an example of something I wouldn't have ordered on my own, but which was amazing. This is Hawaiian marlin in a meyer lemon gastrique and it was, hands down, the best dish of the night (ok, well, excepting the foie, but it is my opinion that nothing compares...) The shoestring potatoes provided a nice crunch, but the star was the fish itself which was both like cooked tuna but nothing like it. It paired with the lemon in a way that didn't express necessity, the way lemon and some fish feels; instead, the lemon cut the fattiness of the fish and smoothed it out brilliantly. I was taken aback by this dish.

But by this time, the evening had taken a turn for the worse. It was at this moment that I entertained serious thoughts about hitting the bathroom to remove some of the offending material from my stomach so that it could absorb further gustatory delights. I'm not proud of this, nor did I do it, but I feared the future. I was sure that I was in for at least one more savory course and then the desserts, both dreaded and anticipated.



This poor trio of pork, lovingly prepared and barely touched was a testament to my fullness. I had a nibble here of loin, and a morsel of homemade sausage, and, well, ok, all of the pork belly. I know it was delicious, I just can't say I enjoyed it so much.

At this point I begged my waiter for a reprieve before dessert. I wanted to smoke a little, mind over matter my bloated carcass a little, and overall enjoy the warm evening. The couple sitting across from me asked me the "why are you so special?" question and I tried to tell them it was both blessing and curse.

When dessert arrived it was as though god and the chef had heard and answered my prayers:



look, ma, bite-size! A selection of the wonderful desserts in a portion I could feel fine about. A nibble of each would do me fine. Chocolate mousse with dacquoise - wonderful! Apple mousse over shortbread - mmm, appley. Trio of tropical sorbets - palate-cleanserrific. And pistachio mousse tart with raspberries - a perennial favorite. I didn't feel guilty by not wolfing everything down, I even saved the last available bit of space for an espresso and a bite of the two dessert amuses.



It was an amazing meal, and I enjoyed it utterly alone. Though, in hindsight, having a partner to eat with me might have meant more would have gotten eaten.

So that was my trip to Las Vegas. On the last night, I cried mercy and went to bed without supper, but three nights in a row of gluttony might be as many as I can stand.

I was pleasantly surprised that the three restaurants I ate at did not feel contrived or second-rate. I would merely state that, for me, the over the top-ness of Las Vegas and by extension its restaurants, doesn't necessarily create the atmosphere for dining I most enjoy. Still, if you would rather spend money on food than Cirque du Soleil, you could do worse.

Late Review: Fish and Farm

Three weeks ago, we took our show on the road to Sonoma for a wedding. I think I mentioned how we traumatized a perfectly kindly Toyota Prius.



After a weekend of wedding festivities, we drove to San Francisco on Sunday to spend some time with cousins from the other side of the family, the very tall, despicably handsome, Matt and Liz.

After a delightful and touristy stroll around Fisherman's Wharf (this was only my fourth day ever in San Francisco) which involved a truly awesome sea-salt caramel chocolate cupcake at Kara's Cupcakes in Ghiradelli Square and an Irish coffee (or 2) at a bar nearby, we cabbd it over to a new restaurant which had just opened in the Mark Twain Hotel, Fish & Farm.

This was fun. Man of the House's foodie cousins had selected a new, sustainable foodish restaurant for us to all try. It made me like forget my antipathy for California.



We started (clockwise from top-left) with the roast venison and cucumber, grilled Monterrey squid, salt cod fritters, and grilled Monterey Bay sardines. The restaurant
makes every attempt to source its ingredients from within a 100-mile radius and I got tremendous glee from imagining Forex traders weekend warrioring as deer hunters. The venison was the only appetizer not sourced from the sea, and I thought it deserved a try (also I really really like venison). I steered clear of the sardines though I promised myself I would be more welcoming of them in the future, heads and all, but dove into the salt cod fritters with relish. Fried brandade sounds like a brilliant idea to me. The squid was deemed lovely by the squid fans, but I'm still squarely on the side of octopus in the cephalopod wars.



One of our main courses did not photograph well, but the lower right photo is what the smörgåsbord plate looked like (nb: Man of the House hates smörgåsbord plates). I ordered the crayfish with okra and polenta which might have won as favorite main course. The polenta was perfectly cooked and the okra offered a really nice balance to the fish. The pan seared corvina was good, but the accompaniments of sweetbreads and mushroom ravioli was a little watery. I'm not a huge fan of sablefish, but I am quite taken with chanterelles - together with the mustard braised cabbage, they tones down the sablefish and made it a little more savory. Finally, the salmon was cooked beautifully even if the gnocchi they came with could use some sturdiness.

All in all for a restaurant's first week, we thought they succeeded well. There was a spelling mistake on the menu (which they thanked me for pointing out and which I am pleased to see was corrected on the website as well) and the servers were still coming into their own, but the owner was gracious, comping us a bottle of wine when we were nearly finished with our main courses and the bottle we ordered before they arrived still hadn't made it to the table, and asking us several times during the meal if we everything was ok.

Were I to live near a restaurant like this I would be most satisfied. The food was neither simple nor pretentious, the prices were eminently fair, and there was a warmth to the dark room that was conducive to a nice meal with relatives one likes.

The Siren Song of Danny Meyer

"Where should we go for dinner?" How often is this question answered with a Danny Meyer restaurant? Out of the last 4 dinners I've eaten in Manhattan, the answer is 3.

Last night ye oldest friend and I called an audible on dinner and decided at 6:00pm that we would meet in front of Tabla at 6:30 and if they could seat us, terrific, if not, we'd check out A Voce and, failing, that, walk over to Blue Smoke (a 66% Meyer favoritism from the get-go). The Bread Bar had availability and we had our decision made for us.

The waiter recognized me, which is only slightly surprising given it was three weeks earlier that he last served me. Ye oldest friend (YOF) had only ever eaten upstairs before so this was his maiden voyage, compelling me to strongly suggest the onion rings



Oh Boodie's ketchup, how I adore you, dream of you, think, actually, that I have the recipe for you in Floyd Cardoz's book, One Spice, Two Spice - must investigate that tonight. What I mean to say is that I find the onion rings a necessary component of any Bread Bar meal.

Though, as inflamed as my passions become when I muse on Boodie's, the dish I long for when I am all the way uptown, far away from any decent grub, is the lamb "naanini."



Let's be frank: there is no way for a sane human to not get hyper over a sandwich of lamb and mashed potato. i cannot live in a world where this is not a universal good. But when the lamb is so tender and flavorful, the mashed potato so spiced with mustard, and the naan - here I must just admit that I have a naan problem and be done with it - so bready and wonderful.

YOF wanted a salad, something I am eternally teasing him about as I consider salads to be a waste of stomach space that could be filled with meat or bread, and we got the radish and cucumber Dhabba salad which was, I grudgingly admit, quite good.



YOF also was thrilled by the Saag Paneer Pizza which was a first time selection for me and one I don't know if I'd order again simply because I am not a super spinach fan and longed for something tomato-ey in my pizza - the crust, however, was spot on.

We together decided to order the Pork Vindaloo, a dish I think might be new as I don't recall seeing it before or, rather more accurately, cannot believe I would have seen it before and not ordered it. While not as spicy, surprisingly, as the naanini, the pork had been cooked so long and so well as to be absolutely flavor-saturated, the fat was rich and smooth and so not good for me. I apologize to my fellow diners that I was the uncouth loutess who dipped my forkfuls of pork back into the dish to get more juices.

That was wrong of me.

There was sourdough naan and mustard seed corn naan and apple, tamarind, and mint chutney (ok, maybe I also dream of the mint chutney - the apple chutney, a seasonal addition, was killer and I definitely want to make some). In short, we over-ordered. This was much appreciated later by the man of the house who dug into our leftovers with gusto - he too has a potentially damaging addiction to lamb naaninis.

I offered the donuts to YOF as they are a signature, but he allows me to choose the Saffron Poached Pears:



Chai tea was poured into the shallow dish which imparted a wonderful spiciness but did create some unanticipated sogginess in the crust beneath the pears. The pears themselves were nice, but the star of the dish was the pear sorbet which was unbelievable (note to self - also make pear sorbet this weekend).

All in all, yet another amazingly satisfying meal at the Bread Bar. I'd like to say I'll be able to stay away, but I'm fairly certain we have plans with an out of towner in a week or so and she mentioned she'd never been to Tabla...

New Camera Tryout

I bought a new camera the other week, a cheapo that was on sale and I figured, hey, for 100 bucks let's see how she flies.

Below are scenes from a dinner. The first shots are taken with my surprisingly trusty Canon A85, a shockingly good camera even in these days when its paltry four megapixels seem ancient; the second with the newcomer, the Panasonic Lumix DMC-LS70, a smaller seven megapixel camera.

All attempts were made to take the same shot with the same settings. Alas, as the evening wore on and the drinks accumulated, I don't know how faithful we were.

As for the dinner: superb! I am not at liberty to extol its virtues or reveal its name as I have a weighty conflict of interest. Suffice it to say, were I free to gush, gush I would.

Part 1: Bread.

- Canon

- Lumix

The colors of the Canon are definitely more true to life and the flash - which I am often loathe to use, created more distortion in the Panasonic. I do not immediately detect a quality difference given the number of megapixels in the Panasonic model.

Part 2: Tarte Flambee.

- Canon

- Lumix

Notoriously unphotographable, that Tarte, the Lumix beat out the Canon on this one because the picture I took with Canon and flash was so bright I thought the cheese might have been radioactive. I didn't touch these photos up in any way though now I'm tempted to do some levels adjustments to see which photo looks better post-edit.

Part 3: Foie Gras.

- Canon

- Lumix

My dinner date, Ed, pointed out to me that the Panasonic models have a special shooting mode for food, so we tried it out. I don't think there's any question which photo is better. The detail on the Canon shot is pretty out of this world. Both the greens and the sea salt have exceptional clarity and the color is spot-on.

Part 4: Lamb.

- Canon

- Lumix

The food scene mode is suffering mightily as trusty Canon trots out another bang up shot. The shots are a little small on the screen, but the Canon succeeds in capturing the grains of couscous as well as the glistening hunks of lamb. The Lumix - not so much. It looks like a big unappetizing blur.

Part 5: Dessert.

- Canon

- Lumix

Ouch. Yet again one of these cameras is bitchslapping the other. In the top shots I can see grains of cocoa powder, berries, and color differentiation. In the second I can't.

Final verdict: I won't be using the Lumix for food shots. In fact, I won't be using the Lumix. It's a perfectly serviceable point and shoot that I suspect will be better suited to daylight and the casual shooter. As such, it will be gifted to mom and dad (who currently do not own a digital camera), and I will return to lusting after a DSLR while contemplating simply moving to the Canon A-series older brother the 7-megapixel A570.

The Bar Room at The Modern

One of the lovely indulgences of having good friends in town from far away places is that of the dinner out. Or dinners out. I was given free rein to choose restaurants and, once seated, to choose food.

Sadly, I didn't bring my camera Wednesday evening when we dined at Bread Bar (which was, as always, eminently satisfying), but I did not forget the camera last night as we four made our way to The Modern.

I have now eaten more than a handful of times in the Bar Room, yet never in the main dining room, and I'm going to hope that the people next door continue to eat the same kind of spectacular food I've eaten on every visit.

So permit me to bore you with a full retelling.



I'm a big fan of the mini baguettes and the butter (not pictured) was at the perfect spreading temperature. It is surprising how many restaurants do not make sure to bring room temperature butter to the table, and what a difference it makes.

When taking European friends out to dinner, I like to order, when suitable, an American wine they wouldn't have the opportunity to taste at home.

I chose an Emeritus Vineyards pinot noir (2005) which, while a trifle heavier than I might have wanted was both delicious and reasonably priced.

We ordered eight dishes spread across two courses, starting with:

Upside Down Tuna Tarte with fennel, Japanese cucumber, and aioli

I've had this dish before and liked it so much (and was dining with fish enthusiasts) that it simply had to be enjoyed again.

Arctic Char Tartare with basil and trout caviar

Another repeat well worth it. The fish was really so fresh and tasty.

Charred Octopus with chickpea-radish salad, salsa verde, and crispy capers

was the weakest of the dishes and I maintain that I have only ever eaten truly exceptional octopus at the Mario Batali restaurants - I don't know if they have some octopus voodoo, but it is always excellent. This was just ok.

Foie Gras Torchon with Muscat gelee and toasted country bread

The torchon was so wonderful that the gelee only detracted from the unadulterated pleasure, though it was quite tasty. We all simply agreed that we'd rather eat the foie on its own.

And now for the second course:

Roasted Long Island Duck Breast with peppercorn crusted apples and pistachio-truffle dipping sauce

The apples were crusted with pistachios as well and quite lovely. The duck was cooked perfectly though I was quite surprised that when we ordered this and the lamb dish the waitress queried us as to whether we wanted it medium, whereas I was under the impression that for both meats, medium rare was the standard.

Beer Braised Pork Belly with sauerkraut and ginger jus

I may have ordered this on two previous occasions (I know I ordered it on one) and just have enjoyed the heck out of it. Tonight was no different. The meat is really stupendous.

Tarte Flambee

It doesn't photograph well, but I'm glad I finally ordered it. It's a staple on the menu and my brother is always pissed when I tell him I didn't order it, so I did this time and not only was it delicious, but a huge hit at the table, as our guests had not eaten it before.

Spice Crusted Colorado Lamb Loin with shank and manchego cheese gratin and pomegranate reduction

The lamb was a little on the medium side of medium rare, but still wonderful, and the shank and manchego gratin was stupendous.

But of course we ordered dessert:

Pistachio Dark Chocolate Dome with pistachio ice cream and amaretto gelee

The amaretto gelee was really fun to play with reminding me why jello is so popular with children. The dome was a layer each of pistachio and chocolate cakes topped with a dense pistachio ice cream and covered in chocolate. Honestly, what could be bad?

Beignets with maple ice cream, caramel, and mango marmelade

These didn't photograph well, but they were fantastic dipped into the caramel sauce. The beignets were not greasy at all and had a terrific crisp which was eminently satisfying.

Hazelnut Dacquoise with milk chocolate chantilly

Like nutella for grownups, this beautiful presentation was actually, and unsurprisingly, far tastier than nutella with a delightful crunch. The chantilly was far more solid than simple whipping cream and better tasting for it (more of a light mousse).

I photographed our coffees as well as they were really quite pretty:





All in all, a terrific meal enjoyed by all. I have to hand it to Danny Meyer: there are a plethora of restaurants to choose from in New York and almost without fail, when I am responsible for taking people out, I gravitate towards one of his. They are convivial, professional, and always delicious, and I have yet to be disappointed.

Slow week Friday tagging

I am devoting my Saturday and Sunday to the beach. The weather looks to be gorgeous and I know there will be precious few more days to bronze myself for the pale months to come. However, in order to avoid the crushing traffic I anticipate on Monday, I will stay closer to home, and closer to my kitchen (though my mother and I were promised a personal shopping experience at the greenmarket were we to show up on Monday).

I'm definitely going to make my belated attempt at daring bakitude, I need to jam my sugarplums, and I a friend's birthday is on Tuesday, so I think I'll be whipping something up (and just now as I wrote that the final idea presented itself - yippee!). But there are some things from this week's tagging that might also find their way into the agenda (I'm looking at you plum crumble).

Caramelized Tomatoes on Gnocchi - this looks like a great dinner I could even whip up on Sunday night or something. It will necessitate another trip to the market this afternoon to supplement my tomato stocks, but I like a good gnocchi as much as the next girl.

Grilled Merguez with Prune Chutney - I do have a lot of plums hanging around - I just wish the chutney would last longer. Do you think it would freeze? The merguez is a little more difficult to source as I've only ever found it at the market on Saturday, and I hate going to the market on Saturdays (especially when it interferes with waning beach time), so maybe I'll make the chutney, experiment with freezing it, and pick a rainy Saturday to find the sausage.

Plum Crumble - The man of the house is a big defender of crumble. It is the primary bargaining tool I have when looking up at him with my puppy dog eyes and suggesting a full day of apple picking. He's not the biggest of plum fans, but perhaps the crumble will sway him.

Apricot Chestnut Tart Tatin - I have halved and frozen the last of the Red Jacket apricots. I don't see how this recipe would suffer by using the frozen fruit and I'm always looking for something to do with my chestnut flour (when I'm not being overly ambitious and making chestnut fettuccine or something like that). If I do decide to use the frozen apricots, I can hold off on this recipe for a bit.

Strawberry Dessert Quartet - No recipes here, but it's gorgeous. I don't have a lot of interest in eating dinner at Jean Georges (I've heard from trusted sources that it could be better), but now I want to go for dessert and have this (it will somehow make all the times his people have beaten me to the market for strawberries seem, if not ok, then barely tolerable).