Does anybody find this appetizing??

Bobby Flay and I are about as close as any two guys can be who each thinks the other has no respect for what he does. In other words, he don’t send me no Christmas cards, and unlike with most famous chefs, my pulse quickens not a bit when he walks in a room.

This review of Mesa Grill on KNPR, from November 2004, probably squelched any chance for a bromance in the bud, and whatever tiny chances we’ve had to get acquainted in the past five years always seem to end up with us standing on opposite sides of the room.

Given that chill in the air whenever our orbits intersect, it was heartening to have him approach me at Vegas Uncork’d in May, extend his hand, look me in the eye and give me one of those semi-shoulder-pat-dude-hugs accompanied by the words: “We’re going to have to turn you around dude, ” with a semi-smile/grimace on his face that said: “The p.r. folks are making me do this.”

Regardless, he didn’t have to do it, I promised him I’d give Mesa another fair shot, and we actually joked a bit in the elevator going up to miX.

Because of that minute long encounter, ELV has now decided he likes Bobby Flay. (In matters of the heart, these things make little sense, but there you go.) Mutual friends have told us he can be a real mensch, and if guys wives are any indication (and often they aren’t), anyone who’s married to Stephanie March, can’t be all bad. We say that because we’ve met her (briefly) on two occasions and she was funny, charming and friendly. (Not just charming and friendly by beautiful Hollywood actress standards, but genuinely nice the way your favorite gal pal or Great Aunt Beatrice is.)

We’re sure Flay doesn’t give a tinker’s dam what ELV thinks of him (or his wife), but in spite of his celebrity (and because of chef-ly pride), it’s probably a fair bet that he cares what writers say about his food. That’s why we’ve been back to Mesa three times in the past two months (two lunches and a dinner), open-minded, ready to be impressed, and hoping for a chile-infused meal from heaven.

Three meals, and four hundred dollars later, we’re still waiting for hosannas to hit us.

Before we get to the food, though, let’s start with the basics.

Because Flay is a constant presence on the Food Network, this place is packed for lunch and dinner, almost every day of the week. As a result, there’s a certain metronomic, impersonal slant to the service. From the time you announce your presence until you’re presented the bill, the staff seems under the gun of having to move so many bodies through the place. They do it with skill, but if you want to feel good about basking in the absentee glow of Mr. Boy Meets Grill, the best time to go is lunch. Dinner is a zoo.

Lunch has certainly provided us with more than a few tasty bites. The burger here is one of the best you’ll ever have, ditto the “Cuban” burger on smashed foccacia, loaded with good cheese and plenty of pickles. Grilled mahi-mahi with pineapple-cascabel chile sauce demonstrates how well good fish marries with fruit and spicy accents, and the cornbread pudding (when they’re making it) is so good it should be illegal.

On the downside, our pork “Cuban” sandwich was dry and dull, the steak tartare chunky and spicy, but way too cold, and the Southwestern Cobb salad an unholy mess of big, thick bacon strips, unwieldy, uncut greens and way too little dressing. (Note: This parsimonious placement of dressings and sauces persistently peeves us, as you’ll soon perceive.)

So let’s address the dressing issue. At dinner, our two entrees sounded great on the menu. Hacked chicken with five-chile mole, and pan-seared halibut with red-chile curry sauce both came highly recommended by our waitron. Both main ingredients were carefully cooked, but, yet again, accented by mere dapples of the aforementioned spiced sauces. Three bites in and we were left with a bunch of naked chicken and a huge block of rare halibut with nothing a bunch of cotija, cactus and corn to give it any “bam.”

Flay’s reputation was built on spices and chiles, but all he does now is give you but a hint of what made him famous. But that wasn’t the worst of it. What little of those sauces we had did not have us begging for more. The five-chile mole tasted not of deep, soulful, roasted chilies, but rather of sugar, and the red chile-curry sauce tasted strongly of neither.

Speaking of sugar, the grilled octopus salad is now in our pantheon of the worst looking dishes we’ve ever eaten, both for its overall appearance (Does anyone but old Greek fishermen like eating long, sucker-filled tentacles?), but also for its saccharinity. It tasted like cephalopod candy, was tough to cut and chew, and after three knife and jaw-straining bites, we left the other two long tentacles untouched on the plate. No one bothered to notice or ask why we barely touched it.

All of this left us scratching our head. Does Flay ever taste these dishes? Do his Executive Chefs approve of barely dressed chicken with teeny, tiny amounts of sugary sweet sauces? Is there a less is more saucing philosophy going on in this kitchen? Does anyone care, or are they too busy counting their money to accurately execute the concepts that put Bobby on the map in the first place.

Maybe we need Bobby, or one of his chefs, to sit down with us and explain why they dole out all of those fabulous-sounding sauces with an eyedropper, and why the octopus tastes like a candy bar. Maybe we just don’t get it, or maybe the master needs to be in the house before these recipes are faithfully done. There’s nothing easy about five-chile moles, hot and sweet yellow pepper sauces, or blending habaneros with star anise. ELV wants to love food that sounds as delectable as this. Like we said, we like the guy, and we want to like his restaurant.

But at this rate, our bromance has a long way to go.

MESA GRILL

In Caesars Palace Hotel and Casino

3570 Las Vegas Blvd. South

Las Vegas, NV 89109

877.346.4642

http://www.mesagrill.com/lasvegas/

Dear ELV,

We dined at Fleur de Lys Saturday night, and it was very good (with the possible exception of the veal ravioli). The truffled soup and souffle were great. Fleur de Lys was not, however, as good as Sage on Friday night. Sage was a revelation — my sincere thanks to Mr. Curtas for recommending it on this site.

Julian Serrano lived up to its billing and more. I’m dreaming of a return to Las Vegas to work through the rest of the menus at both Julian Serrano and Sage.

RM Upstairs was the unfortunate, lone disappointment. The food was frequently brilliant, but that’s easily the worst service I’ve ever experienced at an upscale restaurant. I really hope they figure things out — the fact that the table of folks behind us actually got up and left may drive the point home.

I’m sorry to hear our disappointing RM service experience was not unique, for the food was often very, very good.

Foodily yours,

Frustrated Foodie Fan

Dear Triple F,

As happy as we are for Rick Moonen’s newfound celebrity, wethinks no competent management has been minding the store there for some time now. ELV shares your pain, and hopes RM Upstairs gets its act together soon.

A raft of information has made its way to ELV’s desk in the past week about the following places (and persons) who are either foundering, adrift, or ready to launch:

Item: Restaurant Charlie deathwatch. Last Friday night, only four tables sold for entire evening. CT deigned to speak to only one of them — effectively insulting what few friends he has left. Front of house personnel jumping ship left and right. What is keeping this place afloat? We think Charlie Trotter is about to become (yet again) Charlie Notter (thank you Steve Dolinsky) as this place heads for Davey Jones’ Locker.

Item: Splitsville in Rao’s land. Frank and Carla Pellegrino (two folks we love) tied the knot, now they’re rockin’ the Rao’s boat as they look to divide their interests in Las Vegas sister ship like a side of linguine con vongole. Heartfelt best wishes to both as they now enter uncharted waters.

Item: David Burke in the Venetian continues to under perform. Corporate Comestibles Commodore eBrands can’t be happy. Will Captain Burke set sail from the mothership? Will this place be deep sixed? Is it time to strike the flag?

Item: uber-hip steak chain STK has lashed itself to Cosmopolitan’s mast. President John Unwin is one of the savviest operators out there. Expect more food and wine wave-making from this admirable admiral. (Perhaps he’ll float Eric Ripert’s boat? Stay tuned, as ELV continues to take soundings.)

Item: Batten down the hatches! Sails and sales being trimmed as Wynn/Encore tries to avoid the restaurant rocks. Richard Chen has jumped ship, and no longer commands the kitchen at Wing Lei (the only Chinese restaurant in the country with a Michelin star). SW Steakhouse’s David Walzog to take over command of waterside dock formerly known as Daniel Boulud Brasserie. This signals two things to ELV: 1) No outside operator wanted to be Fletcher Christian to Steverino’s Captain Bligh; and 2) In an any-port-in-a-storm economy, the Good Ship Wynn-ee-Pop may be in for some rough sailing before its F&B program gets back on an even keel.

We’ll wait and see before we lower the boom.

Bon Appetit Editor Barbara Fairchild;

Vegas Uncork’d Executive Director Rob O’Keefe;

Aria Food & Beverage V.P. Christina Clifton; plus,

our bottom five Most Overrated Restaurants (were you listening Todd English, Emeril, Piero, Hugo and Bobbie?); and finally, everyone’s favorite,

EAT IT OR BEAT IT, featuring our usual combative reviews of:

Brazilian Grill

Carnevino

The Fat Greek.

We record again tomorrow, so stay tuned to Nevada Public Radio for dates of upcoming programs (one of these days, we hope to get a regular slot on the programming schedule).

Since the Las Vegas Weekly can only print a couple of snaps of food with every article, here are a few more of our meal at Union Restaurant and Bar and Jean Georges Steakhouse for your precautionary, palate perusal:

[Show as slideshow]

Continue reading after the jump if you’d like to read the review(s) in a different format.

ARIA STEAK SMACKDOWN

One is a huge restaurant, seemingly without walls or windows that opens onto the casino floor. The other is a warren of dark rooms, equally large, but tougher to find on the second floor of this behemoth of a hotel. Each is operated by a restaurant company with major stakes in the steak business. Neither plows any new ground with its concept or menu, but both will do just fine in figuring out how to separate tourists from their cash.

Nothing but a shiny railing separates the groovy design of Union Restaurant and Bar from the casino action (and the people watching), but the place is so big (240 seats) that you will feel as if you’re dining alone even if you’re sharing the space with a hundred other carnivores. UR&B is the newest offering from The Light Group — known for serving beef and interesting appetizers in hip surroundings.

TLG started as a nightclub company, but has since opened several satisfying steak emporiums (FIX, STACK and BRAND), as well as Yellowtail, in several upscale hotels. Corporate Executive Chef Brian Massie is known for jazzing up everything from sliders to beanie weenies, and making mundane munchies sexy for the party-as-a-verb-crowd.

We’ve always found Massie’s food at is other joints to be fun – his pigs in a blanket, and steak “hot rocks” at STACK are legendary – but our four starters here were disappointments. Neither of the two soups – the white clam “chowda” and roasted tomato — were conceived with subtlety in mind, and both were so thick you could stand a spoon in them. Both are just fine, though, if you like your food to (literally) stick to your ribs.

Equally disappointing was the “Union Signature Crispy Duck” — a small pile of semi-dry, shredded duck meat and skin, accompanied by ultra thin Chinese pancakes, scallions and hoisin sauce for making your very own Peking-style duck. The small portion is $35 and will easily serve four as starters, but the time and trouble of making your own food is not worth it when the end product is this tepid.

What the “King Crab Scampi” lacks in finesse it makes up for in bulk. Four huge chunks of crab leg meat are placed atop individual crab leg shells – each lined with a cracker mush and topped with minced bacon braised in butter. Artful it is not, but $18 gets you plenty of bites of sweet crabmeat, and is probably the best deal among the apps.

Things improve when you get to the main point of your meal. Our American Kobe flat iron steak ($44) was perfectly cooked, and full of the mineral-rich flavor an expensive steak should have, and the dry-aged, bone-in filet ($48) was a baseball-sized hunk of tender beef was about as good as a filet can get.

Of the two sauces tried, the classic Bordelaise was deeply imbued with beef demi-glaze and red wine flavors and chunks of intense marrow floating throughout the sauce, but the béarnaise tasted of hollandaise – which is to say it needed more tarragon.

For dessert, nothing is too fancy, but they do justice to staples like Key Lime pie, warm Mexican churros, apple pie (with a fabulous maple pecan ice cream), and five “pudding pops” of fine frozen flavors (milk chocolate, butterscotch, vanilla, peanut butter and banana).

Since things steadily improved during our meal, and ended on those dessert high notes, so we left with smiles on our faces. Had the appetizers been stronger, Union Restaurant and Bar might crack The Light Group’s top tier. As it is, it’s probably doing exactly what its lease with MGM-Mirage is telling it to – give the post-baby boom generation a steak place in which to see and be scene.

Upstairs, its competitor, the Jean Georges Steakhouse, is playing for higher stakes. Not only has this vaunted Alsatian-American chef (Jean-Georges Vongerichten) already dazzled Las Vegas with one of its biggest culinary hits – Prime – he’s also revered the world over as chef’s chef . When he opened Prime eleven years ago, it was one of his first forays outside New York. Vongerichten has since expanded his empire the world over, and this place is now just another link in his chain.

It’s a shame that a chef of Vongerichten’s reputation doesn’t bother dry-aging at least some of his steaks (like they do at Union and at other premium steakhouses like CUT, Carnevino, Nero’s, Delmonico and Craftsteak). That being said, the wet-aged, bone-in rib-eye (18 oz. – $50) was charred to a fare thee well, and was mighty tasty, but it lacked the dense, complex minerality a true steak connoisseur expects.

Highlighting the steak were three splendid sauces – a whipped béarnaise, soy-miso, and hot mustard – that were more complex and finely tuned than those at Union. (At Union, the sauces are $5 each, here there’s no charge.) After years of eating his food at Prime, we’ve decided Chef de Cuisine Robert Moore doesn’t know how to make a second rate sauce.

Even more stunning than the steak was the Chilean sea bass under a miso-yuzu glaze that set off the sweetness of this swimmer swimmingly. Lovers of that old warhorse tuna tartare will find this version more than acceptable – mixed with puffed rice and avocado, seasoned with some real kick, and bathed in a soy-ginger dressing.

We weren’t as keen as the side of a Comte cheese “fritter” showered with shavings of black truffle that brought nothing to the party. Its price tag alone ($12) alerts you that the truffles used are hardly of the best quality.

For dessert, we only ordered one: the molten chocolate cake, to see if Vongerichten is still on his game when it comes to one of his iconic creations. He is, and you can pretty much consider this the definitive version of this time worn treasure.

For years we’ve said every restaurant in Las Vegas would be a steakhouse if it could. Mr. and Mrs. Dubuque still get excited about big slabs o’ beef, Chilean sea bass, crab legs, iceberg lettuce salads, fried calamari, shrimp cocktails and tuna tartares, but to the foodie world, these tired formulas are the culinary equivalents of General Motors – wheezing and puffing their way to gastronomic bankruptcy while their acolytes remain oblivious to the food revolution around them.

We expected more from two restaurateurs known for playful innovation, and razor sharp concepts. What we got was the same old, same old, in updated surroundings. Mr. and Mrs. Dubuque will no doubt eat this stuff up. Both restaurants should be big successes.

Both restaurants are open for dinner only.

Union Restaurant and Bar: Appetizers $13-$18; Mains $28-$58; Desserts $9.

Jean Georges Steakhouse: Appetizers: $13-$32; Mains $36-$78; Desserts $10.

]]> http://www.eatinglv.com/2010/01/aria-steak-smackdown/feed/ 9 http://www.eatinglv.com/2009/12/city-center-eateries-featured-on-klas-tv-cbs-channel-8s-dishing-and-dining/ http://www.eatinglv.com/2009/12/city-center-eateries-featured-on-klas-tv-cbs-channel-8s-dishing-and-dining/#comments Thu, 24 Dec 2009 19:24:45 +0000 John Curtas http://www.eatinglv.com/?p=883 We don’t know what’s more impressive: the fact that Emmy Award-winning Denise Valdez squeezed four restaurants (and chefs) into segment lasting less than two minutes, or that she captured uber-absentee chef Jean-Georges Vongerichten right here in our humble burg. (We guarantee he wasn’t here for long.)

Perhaps, JGV will grace Vegas with his presence more often in the near future, since his 420 seat, dark and moody behemoth — Jean-Georges Steakhouse – is going to need all the help it can get.

Having Rob Moore in the kitchen at JGS will certainly help, but 420 seats is the size of seven Le Cirques!

This place better hope Aria starts filling up fast.

It has the best location of any restaurant in town. Smack in the middle of restaurant row in the Venetian, where every guest, gambler and conventioneer at this mega-plex walks by it at least twice a day.

Yet rumors have been circulating of David Burke’s imminent demise for sometime now. Last week, Robin Leach first mentioned that someone in the Venetian was pulling up “…stakes and eggs, and moving back to New York….” (Burke’s specialty/obsession is the egg in all its forms and cooking guises.) This past Sunday, Norm! in his R-J column, also reported it as a rumor making its way through our restaurant mill.

Both of which were (and are) vigorously denied by Burke and his management.

To which we can only say two things: 1) we at ELV have heard the same rumors (independent of Robin and Norm!), and; 2) experience has taught us that restaurant owners and management will deny they are closing a place, while looking you straight in the eye, with one hand on The Bible and the other on The Torah, the night before they shutter an eatery for good.

Call it deception, call it denial; facing facts can be hard. And the fact is, David Burke doesn’t show up here much, and the place is hanging on by its fingernails, despite having vastly improved its food.

So things don’t bode well for Burke. Like Joachim Splichal ’s Pinot Brasserie right next door, he hasn’t developed his brand, or worked his magic here, beyond slapping his name on the sign. (Jean-Georges Vongerichten is the poster guy for absentee chef syndrome, but his restaurant (Prime in the Bellagio) makes so much $$$, no one cares or calls him on it.

Which is a shame (for DB and diners seeking interesting eats), since Executive Chef Dan Rossi served us some mighty tasty goods recently. Lobster with scrambled eggs on toast points, sweet and sour spinach salad, Tasmanian sea trout that was all you could want from a farm-raised fish, and a brined, double-cut pork chop that is the last word in porcine perfection. And his deconstructed banana split was a thing of beauty.

If David Burke has a failing (as a chef and restaurateur) it’s that his food can sometime seem overly complicated. It’s not meat ‘n ‘taters, nor is it fussified French, nor ingredient-driven Italian. He takes American classics and twists them into something very Burke-ian, that (sometimes) borders on the surreal. ELV still remembers a sandwich he had at David Burke and Donatella years ago, with the bread being giant, soft pretzel sticks, and an “angry lobster” that looked like something out of a Dr. Seuss cartoon.

Still, we know many chefs who consider him a slightly mad (in a Mad Hatter sort of way), but immensely talented, creative force in gastronomy, whose restless mind goes on flights of food fancy that many consider fantastic.

With Rossi in the kitchen, maybe that creative beast has been tamed somewhat. In Vegas, this is a good thing. Best not to challenge the taste buds or brains of our slack-jawed hordes too much.

But Rossi has serious chops, and they’re not just pork. He worked for years under Alex Stratta, so, by definition, he is a perfectionist. His talents, melded with Burke’s vision, could be good for this restaurant.

If it can figure out a way to start capturing customers.

And if it decides to stick around.

DAVID BURKE

In the Venetian Hotel and Casino

3355 Las Vegas Blvd. South

Las Vegas, NV 89109

www.e-brands.net

So here’s what happened last night (recounted through the wooly head of someone who tried to drink all the Au Bon Climat in the house):

The auction started, and almost from the get go, the lots were going for north of $25-$30,000.

Most of these “lots” consisted of a travel package (including lots of private jet or first-class tickets) for you and 6-8-10 of your friends to stay in some fancy digs (or a California winemaker’s home), get lots of bottles of top shelf wine, and be cooked for by some famous celebrity chef — sometimes over multiple days.

We tried to twitter as these impressive bids were being made, but the Venetian Ballroom was not cell phone friendly (at least not to our iPhone).

We weren’t keeping track, but if the fourteen or so lots went for an average of 40k/package, the Emeril Lagasse Foundation had to take in at least half a mil from the auction alone.

Throughout the bidding, all we kept mumbling to ourselves was: “The recession must be over.”

Keep in mind, when yours truly was the auctioneer for a (much smaller) James Beard Foundation Charity Auction exactly a year ago, we couldn’t coax the crowd into bidding hundreds of dollars for much of anything.

Sensing our failing (and trying to help) at the end of the auction last year, Charlie Trotter lept onto the stage and offered to personally cook and entertain 6 people at his home. There were no takers if memory serves.

At the end of the auction last night, as things were winding down, Trotter again took the stage, and grabbed the mike.

His first words were: “Enough of this bullshit.” (He wasn’t smiling. Charlie Trotter doesn’t smile a lot. He sort of grins, occasionally.)

The raucous crowd (of over a thousand) fell silent. Emeril looked stunned.

Trotter then began his ramble about how he was going to top everyone with his donation. About thirty seconds in, he stopped, looked at Emeril standing at stage left, and said: “Emeril, come here…come here! “

Emeril walked towards him with all the zeal he must feel when visiting the cardiologist.

“Now kiss me on the lips….on the lips!”

The point of this was unclear to ELV and everyone else (including poor Emeril) at the time.

Emeril didn’t exactly comply with the enthusiasm of someone who’d been down this road before, and just sorta stood there whilst CT planted a big one on him.

More squirming, more silence. You might say it was deafening. Madonna and Britney it was not.

Undaunted, and perhaps more than a little lubricated, CT proceeded to tell everyone how he would cook for a crowd, personally, at his house, if the bidding got bold.

“I’ll personally cook for you and your friends at my house,” he said, and then, again, he stopped himself.

“No, NO….it’s a fucking MANSION! I live in a MANSION. Okay, excuse my language, but I’ll cook for you at my MANSION!”

At this point ELV took another drink (something Trotter didn’t need), and didn’t know what to be more embarrassed about: The size of Charlie’s ego, his profane rambling, the size of his house …er…MANSION!….or how it felt to be poor, hapless Emeril up there.

Cooler heads eventually wrested the microphone from him, and a bunch of charitable folks (Emeril, Mario, Larry Ruvo, Larry Stone, et al) kept piling addenda on Trotter’s residential largesse until the crowd stopped squirming. And gosh darn it if the final bid for the ultimate tour of Chez Trotter didn’t go for 180,000 clams.

Which is a lot o’ lettuce.

That we’re sure Charlie’s mansion can hold. Just ask him.

ELV is inspired to haiku:

Bombastic Trotter

Raises cash for Emeril

Best forget method

We wish we had found Alice “You mean you don’t have a custom-made, wood-burning-oven in your home?” Waters’ talk at the Black Mountain Institute interesting and inspiring.

But instead, we were treated to chestnuts like: “All children want is to be told they are loved…” and “If only I could’ve revealed to Bill Clinton the beauty of a single ripe peach!” (insert joke here)

Listening to someone so firmly wrapped in her Berkeley bubble that the real world never intrudes just made us hungry and wishful for a good meal.

So we wished we would’ve found the tapas at Firefly afterward at least slightly above average.

But they were a little bit below that (except for the merguez sausages); all of the bread was terribly stale, and the baked tilapia was stricken with such a strange, bathroom-chemical, freezer-burn smell that we declared it inedible and they had to remove it from the bill.

Our meal of four tapas and hot tea at Firefly came to $28 + a $6 tip, and we should’ve stayed in bed.

ELV and his staff were at Rao’s last week, not eating, but rather to observe the shooting of an episode of a television show featuring a certain celebrity chef and Rao’s Carla Pellegrino.

But seeing as we signed a confidentiality statement that “protects” the image of said chef, and demands secrecy befitting a CIA operative about the goings on and such…we can’t really…like…er….say much about what we saw, or what it was about.

None of this makes much sense to Eating Las Vegas, since in this era of social media and viral marketing, one would think that this chef, and his super-secretive staff (and network), would want people twittering and Facebooking about the goings on, to…you know…like…build anticipation and an audience for the event once it’s telecast? (Truth be told, the release/confidentiality statement we signed was nothing compared to Bravo Network’s draconian, multi-page document — that practically causes you to forfeit your parental rights if you so much as breath a word about the show in advance of its showing.)

Since we don’t watch many of these shows, we can’t say just how important all the fake suspense is to driving an audience to watch them. But come on! It’s a freaking food show already! Taped months in advance. Are people really not going to watch because they heard that John Besh out-cooked Traci Des Jardins on the season’s finale of Chefs Who Are Better Than The Food Network Stars?

We can say this, however: the unnamed celebrity chef, who’s show we can’t tell you about, ran away from us with a scowl on his face and a dismissive gesture when we had the temerity to ask if we could take his picture with Judge Paul Bartolotta.

That was probably because he knows we’ve described his cash cow as bland and boring (something Frank Bruni in the New York Times said as well).

ELV wonders if this guy runs away from Bruni if he chances upon him in public? Hmmm…

Or maybe he ducked us ‘cuz he can’t stand the heat.

In which case he should get out of the kitchen.

But having tasted his restaurant’s food on multiple occasions, we wonder if he’s ever in a kitchen anymore?

Unless there’s a TV camera around.