Las Vegas’ Most Romantic Restaurants

Image result for Vetri las Vegas(Vetri)

Face it: Valentine’s Day is about blow jobs. Men are hoping to get one, and women will consider giving one, if there’s a meal (and jewelry) involved. This is why lots of people go out to eat on Valentine’s Day. NO ONE DENIES THIS!

Because of this, lots of people are in restaurants on Valentine’s Day with their minds on things other than the food.

Because of all of the above, VD is the WORST DAY OF THE YEAR to eat out. (Correction: the second worst dayMother’s Day has it beat by a mile, even though no one’s thinking about BJs on that day.)

Restaurants hate Valentine’s Day (no big parties, no high rollers, just two-tops preoccupied with other oral enjoyments); servers hate it (two-tops and romance don’t compute to big tips); chefs hate it (no one cares about what they’re eating); and diners hate it (your service, and food will be lackluster – see all of the above).

Valentine’s Day really really sux when it comes to eating out. But let’s not kid ourselves, many couples will be eating out in a few days precisely for the reasons cited above.

And many of them aren’t really restaurant goers — so it’s amateur hour all around, from the soup to the nuts fondling.

But we at Being John Curtas are here to help…and least with the first part of the evening.

Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, here are Las Vegas’s most romantic restaurants. Gentlemen, if you can’t score after a meal at any one of these, it’s time to retire the hardware:

Image result for Stratosphere las vegas(Romance awaits on top of this phallus)

4 Lewinskys

(Satisfaction guaranteed):

Vetri (top of the page)

Top shelf Italian on top of the Strip.

The Top of the World (pictured above.)

Go at sunset, and I guarantee something will pop up while it’s going down.

Twist by Pierre Gagnaire

The view up the the Strip is as stunning as the food.

Le Cirque

The very definition of “jewel box.” Old school elegance with the best service in the business.

Eiffel Tower Restaurant

Too touristy for true gourmets, but there’s no beating the view of the Bellagio fountains.

Picasso

Iconic art and great food go together like Burgundy and a Boris Johnson.

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Prime (above)

Almost too beautiful for a steakhouse; I’ve never met a woman yet who didn’t swoon over the room.

Marche Bacchus

We love MB….it’s likely already booked for VD but that doesn’t make it any less romantic. Try this: take your beloved there on the 13th or 15th of February and a bob nobbing is practically in the bag.

Image result for Edo tapas las vegas(Slurp a few more, my dear, they’re so much better than beer)

3 Welsh Breakfasts

(Not as much of a sure thing as the ones above, but solidly in the running to provoke a monocle lewinsky):

Edo Tapas & Wine 

Probably our coziest little spot for food to inspire some foolin’ around. Plus great oysters (above) which everyone knows are an aphrodisiac.

Bavette’s

So dark, a Swedish trumpet could be all yours and no one would notice.

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NoMad Restaurant (above)

When you’re looking for a peppermint patty from your book-loving date.

Partage

French food and decor designed to foment some French kissing.

Oscar’s Steakhouse

Great room, great view, great access to a cheap hotel room when it’s time to close the deal.

Restaurant Guy Savoy 

The only reason GS and Robuchon aren’t rated  more highly is because they are both more about food and wine than a Mexican mouthwash.

Joël Robuchon

If you want to blow your wad in more ways than one, this is the place.

Sage

Sexy bar, sexy room, sexy food will most certainly inspire some cabeza….and we ain’t talking tacos here.

Image result for Wing Lei las vegas(Wing will help you get Lei’d)

2 Polish Lawnmowers

(At these, you may have to work harder for your Princeton cheesecake):

Aureole

A shadow of its former self, but the room is still eye-popping….and women love eye-popping rooms.

Cleaver

It’s dark, the drinks are strong, and it serves steaks. For some, that’s enough to take you to Popsicle land.

Wing Lei

Probably the prettiest Asian dining room in Vegas (see above), with the best Chinese food in town…at a price.

Image result for americana las vegas(The lake may be fake but your happy ending won’t be)

1 English Toothbrush

(These are plenty cozy enough to inspire a Belgian Curtsy, but without the expense or the caché of those above):

The Steakhouse at Circus Circus

If you both like licking it old school.

Golden Steer

Ditto.

Americana

People love eating next to water. Women really love eating next to water….even if it’s a fake lake. (see above)

Strip House

There are nude pictures on the walls here – lots of them. Perhaps she’ll get the hint.

You’ll notice there aren’t many romantic restaurants listed in the ‘burbs. This is for good reason….because there aren’t many romantic restaurants in the ‘burbs.

To be considered “romantic” a restaurant needs to be cozy and cosseting or opulent and spectacular (preferably both). Las Vegas’s suburban sprawl does not lend itself to either. Finding a cozy and cosseting restaurant in a Vegas neighborhood is harder than finding a corner without a Walgreen’s on it.

So today’s lesson is: go big or go home….especially if Mr. Happy is looking for a German Geronimo.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Image result for happy valentines day gifs funny

 

The Taste(s) of a Critic

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The rich are different from you and me. – F. Scott Fitzgerald

So are restaurant critics.

Unlike the rich in Fitzgerald’s quote though, we don’t think we’re better than you, just more observant.

More tuned in. Less distracted. More sharply aware of the fine points of the food we are sticking in our mouths.

Are we snobs? Absolutely. Of the highest order. Don’t you want any professional critic (of art, music, literature, design, etc.) to have the highest standards? To bring years of education and discrimination to the subject at hand?

Of course you do.

Nothing would be more boring, and less useful, than a “critic” who liked everything. Fast food tacos? Great! Canned soup? Beat a path to that door! The 24th link in a celebrity chef’s chain? Don’t miss it!

If you’re looking for that sort of reflexive boosterism, Instagram has plenty of influencers for you.

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If you’re looking for an educated point of view, then you seek out and read someone who knows their stuff. And by “knows their stuff” I mean has a wealth of knowledge based upon real world experience, travel, study, and deep involvement with the subject. You want opinions, Yelp is full of them. If you want to learn something, read on.

To a food critic, every bite, every meal is really about one thing:

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Perspective. A point of view. Vision. The intent behind the food. What is it that this restaurant is trying to do and how well do they do it?

There can be as much perspective behind a taco truck as there is at Twist by Pierre Gagnaire. Is the truck content to sling the same stuff dozens of others are doing, at a cheap price, to help you feed your face quickly and cheaply while helping it pay the rent? If so, then there ya go.

Or is it aiming higher? Are the salsas not out of a can? Are the tomatoes riper, the meat better, and the seasonings finer? Were the tortillas made minutes or days ago? After your second or third bite, are you saying to yourself, “Self, I can’t wait to come back here”?  Or are you just happy you are not hungry anymore?

Not every meal can provoke this kind of reaction:

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…but it’s what you always seek — the Holy Grail of Food — something so intense, so transporting, that memories are stirred of the visceral, the elemental, the emotional ties we have to food.

All a critic is looking for is either that imaginary transportation to another place, or to be riveted to where you sit. If food achieves neither it has failed you. Your mother’s chicken soup could do it; Joël Robuchon’s mashed potatoes do it. A great piece of meatloaf can be just as soul-satisfying as a French Laundry degustation.

One of the reasons critics disdain fast food is because it divorces food from time and place, memory and feeling. Fast food is food as fuel and that’s it. There is no connection, no enrichment gained from eating it. The spiritual binding brought forth from a simple home-cooked meal is non-existent. We cram, we get full, we are connected to nothing but the will to stay alive.

If chain restaurants represent one end of the feeding spectrum, then critics occupy the obverse. Food is the furthest thing from fuel in a critic’s mind. It is an ideal to be sought; perfection to pursue….sometimes with hesitance, sometimes with gusto. To search and find perfection is our quest, but we’ll settle for excellence, wherever we find it.

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Perfection is unobtainable, in art or food, but excellence can be anywhere. And in searching for it with every bite, you acquire what I call a taste Rolodex in your head.
Every bite contains a comparison. A spoonful of ice cream gets graded against every other one you’ve ever had. When you stumble into Giolitti in Rome for a scoop, from your first lick you’re comparing it to La Strega Nocciola in Florence, which, you recall, kicked the ass of that poseur franchised crap you had in New York that time. And when you stroll into Gelato di Milano in Las Vegas, consciously or unconsciously you are holding them to those standards.

The glory of course is in the pursuit; the obsessive hunt for the best. And if you’re going to obsess over anything, what’s better than having an all-consuming ardor for something you have to do twice a day to stay alive?

Yes, we can dutifully shovel proteins, amino acids, starches and complex sugars into our piehole, solely to stay alive, and not give them another thought.

But nature gave us a sense of smell and taste for a reason: to discern the edible from the inedible in the wild. Modern man doesn’t live in fear of dying from toxic berries or diseased meat, but the same skills our ancestors used to eat healthily thousands of years ago serve us well today when deciding the right time to eat a piece of fruit, or when a protein has been cooked to its optimum flavor potential.

Image(More liver and wine, and less sodium please)

On some level, that’s all a food critic can tell you. Did they know how to season it and know when it’s done? There is your baseline. Then, there are finer points and deeper dives: Did the foie gras poached in Sauternes (above) taste of wine-drenched, silky liver, or just salt? Was it properly cleaned?  Is the recipe trying to mimic a classic? Or a riff on it? Or is it a copy of a copy of a riff on a classic? Is the ornamentation on the plate for taste or show or both? Are there too many elements to a dish or not enough? (Rarely the latter.)

All gastronomes are searching for dishes of high amplitude – where the flavor elements converge into a single gestalt. A good critic should likewise be such an inquisitive epicure (or at least aspire to be one), even though many, sadly, are not.

A knowledgeable critic has a wealth of experience in his brain (that Rolodex thing again) to give you answers to these questions. Does that mean he’s right and you’re wrong if you disagree with him? No, but if he/she is doing the job right, at least they’ve given you a baseline of information upon which to make your own judgments.

As with movies, a good critic can not only tell you if something is good, but why it is so. No one said it better than Rogert Ebert:

I believe a good critic is a teacher. He doesn’t have the answers, but he can be an example of the process of finding your own answers. He can notice things, explain them, place them in any number of contexts, ponder why some “work” and others never could. He can urge you toward older movies to expand your context for newer ones. He can examine how movies touch upon individual lives, and can be healing, or damaging. He can defend them, and regard them as important in the face of those who are “just looking for a good time.” He can argue that you will have a better time at a better movie. We are all allotted an unknown but finite number of hours of consciousness. Maybe a critic can help you spend them more meaningfully.

Substitute “food” for “movies” in the above paragraph and you have the best defense of a restaurant critics I can think of.

Finally, we come to the question of the actual tasting itself. How does a critic evaluate a dish? Is it different from how you taste food? Most likely. It is certainly a lot faster.

Hypersensitivity is our calling card — to raw ingredients, degree of doneness, balance, temperature, spices, herbs, texture, mouthfeel (not the same thing), harmony, assertiveness, amplification of one note over another — all of which goes racing through our brain before the second bite.

As with wine or music, once you understand the subject on a deeper level, you’re incapable of being satisfied with mediocrity. You might be perfectly happy grooving to the sweet, sweet sounds of Donny and Marie singing their greatest hit, but someone schooled in classical music or modern jazz is not so easily amused. In another life, Domino’s pizza might’ve sufficed; now it makes you want to barf.

Then there’s that pesky perspective thing again: how does this dish, this restaurant, this meal, fit within the context of every other meal, you’ve had?

Back to Ebert again, he quotes Socrates when arguing that “an unexamined life is not worth living.” He pushes the movie goer to understand both their and a filmmaker’s philosophy about a movie, in order to explain with some depth why you like or don’t like a film.

It would certainly be nice if all movie buffs had that level of understanding, just as I would argue that if everyone who eats (and that would be everyone) would examine their food with same intellectual rigor a critic does, the world would be a happier, healthier place.

Image(Kusshi me quick)

In reality, this will never happen. All a passionate critic can hope for is to shine a small ray of enlightenment on your meal. You should go to Bouchon for oysters, for example, because they always seem to get the plumpest, briniest specimens in town. (Or Sage, for their classic Tabasco sorbet-topped beauties, above.) The selection at Bouchon is never too large and the staff always knows their bivalves. This is the sort of information an informed consumer should have in their holster before dropping fifty bucks on a dozen of them.

Does this mean you will identify the watermelon/cucumber notes of a deep-pocketed Kusshis the same way I will? Perhaps not, but if you taste them next to some $1 oyster bar (Hello, Palace Station!), you would find it’s no contest. Such is the ground a critic plows so you won’t have to.

Yes, I get ecstatic over restaurants like Bouchon and Sage, just like I do over oysters, pizza, steaks, tacos and the fanciest French food you can imagine. (I can still recall my oyster epiphany in Brussels almost thirty years ago, when the slippery little critters were so fresh and alive they contracted when hit with a squirt of lemon.) Such was the beginning of a life-long affair.

As any romantic can tell you, once you fall in love, falling in like is no longer an option. To be a good critic, you must love your subject even when it isn’t loving you back.

True love is like that.