Steakhouses Archives — Being John Curtas

The List – Where We’re Eating and Why

August 13, 2025August 17, 2025

(If people could read my mind…I’d get punched in the face a lot)

It’s been a minute, hasn’t it? Seven months to be precise. Lots of travel (Scotland, Rome, London, Venice, Milan, Vancouver, Nantucket, Connecticut – just to name a few stops) since last we posted something, but we haven’t been idle, even if we don’t eat, report, and repeat like we did in the halcyon years of 2008-2020. These days (when we’re in town), we mainly put our energies into podcasting — gab-festing every week about where we’ve eaten on Eat. Talk. Repeat. (Which, from our completely objective perspective, is the liveliest restaurant podcast around.)

As any writer will tell you: talking is tons more fun than writing, and why everyone from Kato Kaelin to D-list actresses have one. Or maybe it’s because listening is easier than reading(?).

Regardless, we’ve always found podcasts (even ours) to be a poor vehicle for imparting accessible information in condensed form. Such as a list of what we consider the best/most important restaurants of 2025. So here goes, roughly in order of their newness, excellence, level of cooking, and importance to the Vegas food scene.

Unlike past years, we no longer scurry to and fro, trying to eat/try every worthy restaurant in Las Vegas. These days we pick our spots, so consider this more highly personal than comprehensive. Some places we adore (Guy Savoy, Ferraro’s, Main Street Provisions, et al) are still wonderful, we just haven’t been in a while. What you’ll get here is places I’ve been to recently (i.e., the last seven months) and to which I intend to return. All are worth your time and money if you seek the best Vegas has to offer.

And, as usual, if you’re looking for washed up celebrity chef retreads, forced fun (Hello, supper clubs!), or some place you “heard was good” from some bizarre “influencer ” who speaks like an annoying four-year old, you’ve come to the wrong place.

(As always, all places come highly recommended unless otherwise noted.)

THE LIST – 2025

1. TAMBA – Calvin Trillin once wrote that the average Italian restaurant gets more customers in a night than most Indian joints see in a month. Four decades on, not much has improved. Indian food – one of the world’s great cuisines – was, for years, so underrepresented in America as to be almost invisible. Urban areas had their tandoori parlors and AYCE buffets, but that was about it. But the tide may be turning. Indian food, the refined, intricate, delicate cuisine of the sub-continent, might be having a moment, here and elsewhere, and Tamba is showing why.

Tamba has as much in common with your standard, cookie cutter curry shop as a Bentley does with a Dodge Dart. This is apparent from the second you step inside. Instead of nonstop Bollywood videos, what confronts you is an elegant, subdued restaurant replete with overstuffed chairs, refined flatware and an eye-popping bar that would be right at home in the Bellagio.

From there Chef Anand Singh flies you around the sub-continent (and even into China), dabbling in everything from upscale tuna sushi with smoked sea salt to artichoke sashimi to marinated goat biryani. Spicings are precise, presentations polished, and the multi-layered flavorings a revelation. (A one-curry-fits-all stop this is not.) You can go conventional (intriguing Samosa Chaat, soothing butter chicken) or unique (grilled Afghani saffron paneer, banana leaf-wrapped sea bass, Josper-grilled octopus with purple cauliflower), and be assured that whatever hits your table will probably be like nothing Vegas has ever tasted.

Modern Indian like this has been the rage in England for twenty years. Vegas may be late to the party, but with Tamba and the arrival of Gymkanha to the Aria later this year, the festivities promise to continue for even longer than an Indian wedding.

—————————————

2. BAR BOHEME – There were two important restaurant openings this year, and BB was the other one. Fine French and local Las Vegas have generally been as compatible as slot machines and opera, and breaths are being held as to whether James Trees’ ode to haute bourgeois cooking signals a pivot to more serious gastronomy, or whether we are forever consigned to the steakhouse/Italian circle of hell. The Strip is no longer driving the culinary conversation; places like Bar Boheme (and its sister restaurant Ada’s) have taken the reigns….and where they take us is anyone’s guess.

(Cheesus Christ that’s good soup!)

—————————————-

3. STUBBORN SEED – is the kind of place where the chef (Jeremy Ford) makes a splash out of town (in this case, Miami), wins a TV cooking competition (Top Chef season 13), gets recruited by Vegas bigwigs to bring his concept to a giant hotel (Resorts World) in hopes of enhancing the cred (and pocketbooks) of the chef, the concept and the hotel. The food (like the room) is stylish and comfortable without being overthought or overwrought. This is high-wire, aggressive, veggie-focused cooking (but not strictly vegetarian), and Ford clearly has the chops for it.

He freely mixes his food metaphors and clearly has a thing for intricacy, playing with odd combinations (and lots of leafy accents) that always seem to work.Thus will you find carrots charred with jerk seasonings and spiced yogurt (above) , and a whole cauliflower (also above) roasted with a cashew puree, then garnished with every herb in the garden.

His proteins don’t miss any beats either: a foie gras/truffle tart (above) reminiscent of a pb&j, brown butter branzino, and a slow-cooked smoked beef rib (priced-to-sell at $85) are better than anything you’ll find in most steakhouses. None of this is cheap, but compared to most Strip restaurants these days, it feels like a bargain for cooking this complex and compelling. Definitely the most interesting Strip restaurant to open this year, and we are rooting for it to find an audience.

———————————

(Bream job – $95)

4. PISCES – Perhaps I’m getting soft in my old age, but I found more to praise than bury in our two meals here. The setting will pop your eyeballs, the service about as efficient as a 300 seater can have, and the Greek-French-Spanish-Italian-something-for-everyone-mash-up menu is a fun read. What also pops are the prices — $120 Dover sole, $34 crudo, and a grab-your-ankles wine list that should be presented with a tube of K-Y.

You are in the Wynncore, after all, where bargains are rarer than inconspicuous consumption, and the upscale crowd practically demands to be overcharged. Unsurprisingly, most of the Greek offerings (Horatiki salad, Gigante beans, the sea bream, aka Orata) is done better at Milos, and the paella ($155) is far more authentic (and cheaper) at Jaleo. But the fish is as fresh as it gets, this far from an ocean, and the desserts are in a class by themselves.

—————————————————

5. CARAMÁ – Nowadays, no one likes to bag on the Strip more than yours truly, but the second best Italian food we had this year was at this Wolfgang Puck outpost in Mandalay Bay. It’s an all-purpose Italian, befitting the requirements of Big Hotel, but Puck’s troops have always been great technicians, and their proficiency with the whole spectrum of Italian gastronomy — from the top shelf salumi to squab (pictured above) to dolce to die for –is evident from the first bite. Are we going to drive to the ends of the Strip to eat here? Probably not. But the food is way better than it has to be for this hotel’s slack-jawed, lanyard crowd.

————————————-

6. JOËL ROBUCHCON – Without Joel Robuchon there would have been no Guy Savoy, Mario Batali, or Bradley Ogden. Without JR there would be no James Beard recognition, no José Andrés, Bobby Flay, and no Steve Wynn trying (for a time) to turn the Wynncore into a gourmet mecca. Wynn and Gamal Aziz may have started Las Vegas’s restaurant revolution in 1994-1999, but it was Robuchon, coming out of retirement to launch his international concepts (L’Atelier de Joel Robuchon and his namesake 3-etoile jewel box) IN LAS VEGAS(!), that made all the headlines, and brought the world’s food media to our door.

No one, except influencers looking for a free meal, gets excited about Strip restaurant openings anymore. But Robuchon coming here was a very big deal, and now, twenty years on, its cooking, decor, and service still have the capacity to astonish. This is rarefied air dining, and the tariffs are steep, but a la carte selections ease the pain (and the calories), and for better haute cuisine (and mignardises like these), you’ll have to travel to Paris:

—————————————————

7. ADA’S FOOD+WINE – Wine Goddess Kat Thomas and chef Jackson Stamper are doing something very special at AFW. If it were in any other city, the accolades and awards would flow like Franciacorta. In Vegas, it’s just another gem struggling to find and audience among people with more money than taste. Its escape from the Tivoli Village ghost town (and to Arts District digs) can’t come soon enough.

—————————–

8. VETRI CUCINA – We love Vetri. even if it’s harder to get to than Henderson at rush hour. But it’s still the best Italian in town, and for that reason alone, it rates a wave.

__________________

9. WINEAUX – has everything you’d ever want in a wine bar: comfy setting, good feng shui, lots of interesting bottles at all price points, thoughtful, handcrafted small plates to nibble on, attentive service. The only thing it needs is to be closer to my house.

——————————

10. LE CLUB BY PARTAGE – IS closer to my house. And a jewel box filled with fine champagnes, and delicate French food to compliment them. The steak tartare (above) is straight from Paris, and the grilled oysters and mini-cheeseburger (topped with a nugget of foie gras) are worth a trip all by themselves.

——————————–

11. ANIMA BY EDO – We don’t go the ABE much because it’s both too far and far too annoying to travel to, no matter how good the Spanish-Italian mashup food (and wine) is. But no list of the best restaurants in Vegas is complete without it.

—————————–

(Ash Watkins and Gio, not exactly weeping in their wine)

12. MONZÙ – Gio Mauro (operatic by nature, in talent and temperament) literally performs a passion play nightly, straight out of “Big Night”. His clientele are the cognoscenti, who recognize his genius with pizzas, pastas, proteins, and wine. One block away is Nora’s, his family’s other restaurant, strictly for the red sauce, chicken parm, and pepperoni crowd. Guess which one has more customers than the bacon cheeseburger egg roll concession at the Iowa State Fair? It’s enough to make me weep into my Barolo.

13. SPICY ZEST – wins our award for surprise of the year. Tucked into the side panel of a giant strip mall on south Rainbow/Warm Springs, nothing (from the location to the tells-you-nothing odd ball name) prepares you for what’s inside — which is some of the best Szechuan food in town. Sleek, spotless, and friendly, with food that will blow your head off (in a good way). Everything from the hot and sour soup to the Szechuan boiled fish (above) comes to the table looking like someone in the kitchen really cares, and is not just going through the motions. A real find.

———————————–

14. THE PEPPER CLUB – Italian with a kick, rapidly morphing into a downtown power lunch spot. The spicy spaghetti (pictured above) is the truth, as are the stracciatella cheese app, and pork meatballs. If you insist, the (sooo cheugy) chicken parm get raves from the cringe crowd (see what we did there?), but we prefer the double-cut pork chop, and the carpaccio. Service can be well–meaning but spotty, but even at its slowest, it’s a great alternative when you can’t get into Esther’s, for either lunch or dinner. FYI: Despite what the sign says, Todd English hasn’t had anything to do with the place for years.

—————————————–

15. RAKU – There’s a reason The Food Gal® (pictured above) and I go to Raku every year for her birthday. And the reason is it’s the best Japanese food in town.

——————————————-

16. HIROYOSHI – doesn’t have the sushi chops of Kabuto, nor the izakaya game of Raku, but for a legitimate slice of Japan in the ‘burbs, it’s tough to beat. The $100 sashimi platter (below) is what everyone gets, for good reason. The house made appetizers, especially the steamed mushrooms, and tempura are not to be missed.

————————————–

(The Great Vincenzo, and some Luddite in a ball cap)

17. CIPRIANI – Almost every Friday (when we’re in town) we’re here for lunch. And the reason is deliciously simple Italian food, the way it’s supposed to be.

———————————————

18. PUBLICUS – The Food Gal® is nuts about their coffee and their toasts (avocado and otherwise), so every Sunday morn, that’s where you’ll find us. Yearly winner of The Best Restaurant In The Worst Location In Town award.

————————————–

19. ESTHER’S KITCHEN – “No one goes there anymore. It’s too crowded.” – Yogi Berra

————————————————-

20. SOULBELLY BBQ – the best ‘cue in Vegas. Don’t even think about arguing with me about this.

————————

21. WILD FIG BBQ – the second best ‘cue in Vegas. But skip the sausage, it’s terrible. If you want to argue about the rest of the meats v. SoulBelly, we’ll at least allow the discussion.

———————————

(#yolkporn)

22. WINNIE & ETHEL’S – the ultimate breakfast and lunch diner is now open for dinner!

———————————————-

(Chef Ivan has got the meats!)

23. DELMONICO – 26 years old and better than ever. The steaks (and Louisiana specialties) are superb. Service never misses a beat. And the cheeseburger in a league of its own. And by “league of its own” we mean it won out our 2025 Best Steakhouse Burger at Eat. Talk. Repeat. over some very rare and well-done competition. There might be a better double-smashed cheeseburger somewhere in Vegas, but from the beefiness to the bun, we haven’t tasted it. And we’ve tasted them all.

—————————————————

24. CARVERSTEAK – In a crowded category, Carversteak gets our nod for the best all-around steakhouse. From its serious booze and wine programs, to the inventive apps (crab with caviar, above, would be right at home on an upscale tasting menu) and major league proteins, no beef emporium does as many things as well as this big hitter, tucked into a corner of Resorts World.

———————————————–

25. PETER LUGER – Argue all you want about the dated menu (which we find charming), but no one ages their steaks better. Fight me.

————————————————

26. HARLO – The next time some knucklehead starts telling you how great Barry’s, The Steakhouse or Golden Steer is, do what I do: tell ’em to “Go eat at Harlo and then we’ll talk.”

————————————–

27. MAE DALY’S – the anti-Golden Steer, with no Instagram-addicted crowds congratulating themselves because, “they heard it was good.” There, I said it. Also, parking is easy (and free!), but tip the valet just like the old days. Get the grilled oysters and a burger as appetizers (like we always do), and thank me later.

——————————————–

(#Cholesterolfest)

28. RINCON DE BUENOS AIRES – In many ways, the anti-Vegas-steakhouse — informal, fun, friendly, and reasonable. Also very accommodating to the BYO crowd, even if their priced-to-sell Malbecs match perfectly with the meat. Ideal for a crowd of carnivores, looking for exotic ways to make their hearts beat faster. You’d better like soccer though, and pity the fool who mistakes the poster of Diego Maradona for Pelé.

——————————————-

29. YEN VIET KITCHEN – Not your typical pho parlor. Not even your typical Vietnamese. Tiny with zero social media presence, but a loyal following of Southeast Asian regs who know the good stuff…like Chinese sausage and pork on sticky rice (above).

———————————————–

30. LAMAII – never disappoints and always has the most intriguing wines to match with its incendiary food. No one leaves without getting the crab fat fried rice (above). Our favorite Thai on Spring Mountain Road.

—————————————–

31. MOIA – guaranteed to quench your Peruvian food jones even if it has the second worst location in town (after PublicUs). Get the ceviche or tiraditos or Papa a la Huancaina (potatoes in yellow pepper cheese sause) and thank us later. Dive into the seafood only at your own risk, or only if you’re familiar with Peruvian food. As with every Peruvian restaurant we’ve ever tried, lots of things sound much better than they taste.

——————————-

32. LETTY’S TACOS – if you find a better quesobirria taco in town, let me know.

———————————-

33. CAFE BREIZH – Kouign Amann (above). ‘Nuff said. Also, the best cappucino in town. And pastries. And baguettes.

——————————————————-

34. THE DAILY BREAD – a thumbnail breakfast/lunch joint with serious (in-house) baked goods (e.g. Las Vegas’s best foccacia, above). We don’t know how Scott Commings makes a living out of this crackerbox of a bakery/deli, but we’re glad he does.

————————————————

35. NOM PANG – Cambodian sandwiches (which taste a lot like Vietnamese sandwiches, stuffed as they are with greenery and bevy of unidentifiable lunch meats) have found a home on N. Rancho Dr. — in the least likely Southeast Asia sammie spot imaginable. The made-to-order soups and stews are a treat, too, even if occasionally you won’t know what you’re eating.

———————————————————-

36. XIANG WEI XUAN – There are two ways to approach Chinatown/Spring Mountain Road: spend thirty years traveling and trying everything up and down its 3 mile stretch (and get so good you can spot a corporate/franchise at 100 yards), OR have friends like Dave the Great who speaks Mandarin and can spot the real deal in Hunanese cooking from a mile out. We discovered XWX the first way, but have learned to love it even more when our friend translates the menu for us. As Gen Z would say: This place is frfr (“for real for real”), no cap.

—————————————————

SPECIAL BOOZE-CENTRIC ADDENDUM:

37. DOWNTOWN MIXOLOGY CRAWL

– Jammyland

– Esther’s Kitchen

– Main Street Provisions

– Echo Taste & Sound (pictured above)

– Bar Ginza

– Petit Boheme (top of the page)

– Liquid Diet

– Nocturno

– The Creamery

– The Doberman

– Stray Pirate

….plus a few we probably missed. The cocktail bars in DTLV have gotten so good, I almost wish I was an alcoholic.

———————————–

So, that’s the best of the best of where we’ve been dining (and drinking) this year, and why we love them so. For the other side of the coin, keep reading.

The Bottom 7

Battista’s – Wine without alcohol, coffee-free cappuccino, veal Marsala in search of Marsala….Battista’s (“temporarily closed”) continues to be a big hit with a certain type of basic mouth breather who loves it that way.

Casa Playa – 4 skimpy apps + 1 decent drink = $140. For mid Mexican. The prosecution rests.

Emmit’s – By-the-numbers food in an awkward setting aimed at sheeple drawn to past-their-prime celebrity brands like fentanyl to Fremont Street. Sorry/not sorry, Mr. Washed-Up Athlete, the world is not dying for another mid-brand steakhouse, no matter how many fans you had in 1993.

Cafe Landwer – IHOP with a bad Israeli accent. And not cheap. You have been warned.

Lotus of Siam (Red Rock) – You sell your soul when you sell your brand to Big Hotel, a lesson the Chutima family has learned the hard way. If only there had been a food writer/lawyer with decades of experience in the restaurant/law/contract business to advise them not to do it…

Irv’s Burgers – People line up for what is, at best, the 43rd best cheeseburger in Vegas.

Jessie Rae’s BBQ – One of my fave sayings (forever) has been, “Barbecue is like sex: the worst I ever had was still pretty good.” At least it was until I dumped an entire platter of this slop in the garbage.

Soooo….that’s really it.

Have you not been influenced?

Major Awards 2024

December 6, 2024December 24, 2024

It’s award season, and true to yearly form, our wits are sharpened, appetite is keen, and patience at an end. So buckle up, pilgrim…

Best Restaurant That’s Closest to My House: Le Thai 2

Best Restaurant That No One Goes To: Jamon Jamon Woodfired

Best Restaurant That’s So Crowded No One Goes There Anymore: Esther’s Kitchen

Restaurant That Deserves to be More Famous Than It Is: Ada’s Food + Wine– Don’t call it a wine bar any more. Jackson Stamper, Kat Thomas and James Trees have turned this corner of Tivoli Village into our town’s most adventuresome gastropub. Surf and turf in-your-face concoctions like nowhere else. Witness the coconut broth mussels above. Paired with a fascinating wine list at prices that won’t have you reaching for a respirator.

Fucktard of the Year Award: Fountainebleu – because after we pointed out what a rip-off the wine lists were throughout the hotel (and got a bit of traction for it on social media), the p.r. folks (and executives) went into full hose job mode, assuring me the hotel really “cared about locals” and wanted its restaurants (and wine lists) to be accessible to a wide range of customers, not just high rollers and rich douchebags. Waited a month and went back. Nothing had changed. Waited another month. Nada. Poked around a few weeks ago….if anything prices have gotten worse. (Good luck finding a bottle for less than $100, anywhere in the hotel.) Then they took the excellent burger off the menu at Don’s Prime because, as one insider told me: “It was getting too popular and people were buying it instead of $100 steaks.” In other words, everything about the place now screams “We’re only here to rip-off people with more money than sense,” and encapsulates everything we hate about late-stage Las Vegas.

F**k the Fountainebleu with a rusty corkscrew.

Speaking of hotels….

Hotel(s) Whose F & B programs We Don’t Give a Shit About Anymore: Basically all of them except Wynn/Encore and Venetian/Palazzo. The opposite of love isn’t hate; the opposite of love is indifference.

Only Steakhouse That Gets Us to the Strip Without Too Much Kvetching: Peter Luger

Told You So Award: Lotus of Siam’s ill-fated partnership with Red Rock Hotel-Casino (see further discussion below).

Runner-Up: The Sundry Food Hall at Uncommons – because everything about this place (from the ghost kitchens to the QR codes) was stupid from the jump.

Best Smashburger: Stay Tuned Burger – Hard Hat Lounge ($12):

Burger of the Year: the pop-up, $15 semi-smash burger at Featherblade Craft Butchery:

Enough Already Award: Smashburgers

Croissant of the Year: 1228 Main – Hear all about these mille-feuille marvels on Eat. Talk. Repeat. here.

(Let’s taco about how good these are..)

Tacos of the Year: Carnitas y Tortas Asahogadas (above)

Pleasant Surprise Award: Brasserie B by Bobby Flay, 6666 Ranch Steakhouse, Spring by Chinamama, Caramá – our degree of skepticism was only matched by how impressed we were by the food at each of these. If this keeps up, we may start getting excited by the food in Strip hotels again.

Pancake(s) of the Year: Chamana’s Cafe’s blueberry and Winnie & Ethel’s banana-pecan beauties (above and above)

Hot Dog of the Year: Windy City Beefs ‘n Dogs loaded Chicago Dog (above)

(The 70s called, they want their color scheme back)

(Ash Watkins, calling all Ottomans!)

Turkish Pimp Bordello Award: Palate (above)

Dat Sum Dim Sum Award: Palette Tea Lounge (Yes, we know, it gets confusing.)

(Muchas gracias, Julian!)

Game Changer/Riding Into the Sunset Award: Julian Serrano – who retires after a quarter century of excellence, knowing his enthusiasm, dedication and haute cuisine chops changed the face of Las Vegas. Read more about Serrano’s legacy in this month’s Desert Companion Restaurant Awards (some of which were written by someone you might recognize).

Never Again Award: Marché Bacchus (above) – because what was once a passion restaurant has become a money restaurant. The above pic was from a recent visit, at peak brunch hour (1:00 pm) on a Saturday. As my dad used to say: “All the people who aren’t eating there are trying to tell you something.”

Runner-Up: Lotus of Siam Red Rock Hotel and Casino – which is as close to the edgy, in-your-face flavors and authenticity of the real LOS as Bangkok is to the Bellagio.

Underappreciated Award: The Legends Oyster Bar & Grill – for the freshest seafood (and fabolous ‘ersters, above) you’ll find, 250 miles from the nearest ocean. Also, now with a second location in Henderson!

Brunch It and They Will Come Award: Mi Barrio – which answered the question: Just how bad can Mexican food get and still pull a crowd? Exhibit One (above): what they called a “Milanese” torta, and what we called shoe leather burnt to an inedible crisp. The prosecution has five more exhibits but will rest with this one. We didn’t think anything could make Casa Don Juan look good, but this place manages to.

F**k Mi Barrio and it’s slack-jawed, endless margarita crowd with a stale tortilla.

As long as we’re trashing mediocre Mexicans…

Mexican Disappointment of the Year: Los Molcajetes – what was once a favorite is now straight outta Sysco – proving that Mexican food can be just as terrible in the barrio as it is in the ‘burbs.

Phoning It In Award: Eater Vegas – for continuing to live down to expectations with nonsense like this:

…which begs all sorts of questions: Why are two of the five “best restaurant” awards going to bars (with a third being more about “hanging” than eating)? Also, were there no contenders for “Grooviest Playlist” or “Best Chef Tattoos”? Shame. And finally: How far up their collective rectum did the Eater writer(s) have to reach for these?

Wine Bar of the Year: Wineaux – slick, comfy build-out, good vibes (are you listening Eater?), beautiful food. One of the few joints that can induce us to travel 15 miles for a bite.

Italian(s) of the Year (toss-up): Brezza, Caramá, Vetri, Cipriani, Ferraro’s, Matteo’s – Las Vegas is lousy with Italian, but these are six of the best.

Unsung Italian Award: Aromi– make that seven.

(When you get a hankerin’ for Hunanese)

Chinese Meal of the Year: Xiang Wei Xuan (above)

Vietnamese Meal of the Year: YEN Viet Kitchen

Podcast of the Year: Eat. Talk. Repeat.– Are we biased? Does the Pope wear a beanie? Does the Navy have ships? Does a wild bear sh____you get the point. YOU BET we’re biased! But no one has more fun covering the Vegas restaurant scene that we do. (CAN YOU PROVE IT ISN’T TRUE?)

Runner-Up: City Cast Las Vegas – the newsy, trendy, gossipy, informative-yet-fun podcast you need to be listening to, daily.

Snoop Dogg Overexposure Award, Sponsored by Martha Stewart, produced and presented by Snoop Dogg, after a very special exclusive interview with Martha Stewart and Snoop Dogg: Caviar

Foie Gras of the Year: Mae Daly’s– a more luscious piece(s) of duck liver (prepared two ways) you will not find anywhere in Vegas.

IHOP With Better Architecture Award: Norm’s

Chinese Hegemony Award: China Mama – Coming out of Covid, CM’s original location rebounded with a vengeance. Then it (literally) caught on fire. So they moved the operation to Shanghai Plaza, and opened a satellite take-out address on Rainbow. When they re-open the original location early next year, and a Palace Station outlet, this once-humble Shanghai noodle parlor will have seven locations across the Vegas Valley. Expansion this fast doesn’t happen unless major investor $$$s are involved. So far, quality-control at all the branches remains high. Hao Chī (right down the street from my ‘hood) and Spring by China Mama, have hit all their marks from the get-go. But experience tells us they’re going to have to simplify their approach when they open in the Palace Station, which has, for twenty years, been a graveyard where good eats go to die.

Restaurant Awards Award:Desert Companion (magazine)

Desert Companion 2024 Restaurant Awards

(Mitsuo Endo at work)

Japanese Meals of the Year (tie): ENDO, Raku, Izakaya Go, Kaiseki Yuzu, Sushi Hiro

ENDO has the most exquisite Japanese food in Las Vegas, with two seatings nightly (for only six lucky souls) — but it’ll cost you, bigly. Figure a grand a couple once some sake is folded in. As with ‘e’ by José Andrés, definitely an experience every budding gastronome owes themselves. Kaiseki Yuzu is slightly easier on the wallet, and a bit less precious. The other three are restaurants we could go to once a week and never tire of the food, or the (relatively) gentle tariffs.

Drop Dead View of the Year: Vetri Cucina (above) and (below):

Worst Meal of the Year: fingernail pizza at The Bootlegger (see it and weep):

Regrettable Trend of the Year: the corporatization of local brands (cf. Bacchus, Marche, Siam, Lotus of), by restaurant groups who swoop in, with ice water in their veins and profits on the brain, to ruin what was once a good thing, all the while cynically calculating that the hoi polloi won’t notice. We noticed.

Trend That Needs to Die a Sudden, Violent Death: Black food…especially black hamburger buns.

Don’t Fill Up On Bread Award: the glazed, salty-doughy-sweet, drool-worthy Parker House rolls (above) at Scotch 80 Prime – which you’ll be tempted to make a meal in themselves.

(At half off, you can’t beat this meat)

Deal of the Year: the end-of-summer happy hour menu(s) at Scotch 80 Prime – which more than a few restaurants could learn a lesson from during the cash-strapped dog days of summer.

Cut Above Award (Steaks of the Year): Mae Daly’s, Nicco’s, Peter Luger

(Meat me at Mae Daly’s)

Something on The Strip To Look Forward To Award: Fabio Trabocchi bringing his exquisite Mediterranean seafood to the Wynn at Fiola Mare set to open early next year.

(Seafood risotto at La Rosetta, Roma)

Meal(s) of the Year:

Restaurant Guy Savoy (Las Vegas)

La Tour D’Argent (Paris, France not Texas)

L’Ambroisie (Paris, France not Kentucky)

Gaya by Pierre Gagnaire (Paris, France not Illinois)

La Rosetta (Rome, Italy, not Georgia)

The Seafood Ristorante (St. Andrews, Scotland)

ENDO (Las Vegas, Nevada, not New Mexico)

Dish of the Year: Paella, hand-crafted by José Andrés at Jaleo– Bomba rice, spread a single kernel thick, in a paella pan the size of a manhole cover, over which he melted gossamer-thin Jamon Iberico De Bellota de pata negra, topped with premium Spanish oscetra caviar. All of it washed down with ‘o5 Dom Perignon. Proving that some of the greatest food experiences you will ever have are the unplanned ones, and Las Vegas (even without a world-famous chef at the stoves) can cook with the best of them.

Some days a guy just has to pinch himself.

Cheers and Happy Holidays from us and our staff at Being John Curtas/Eating Las Vegas.

Spanish Inquisition – Part One

February 28, 2024March 7, 2024

As a first-time tourist in any country, I’m usually an easy lay. Buy me a drink of good, indigenous hooch and I’ll lift my skirt. Seduce me with the tastiest local vittles and I’m yours for the asking. Show me your historical sites and I’ll show you my…er…uh…you get the idea.

With Spain though, I left my roll in the jamon not so much begging for more, but rather, wondering if what we ate was all it had to give. It did not sweep me off my feet as much as leave me feeling that our first date might be our last.

Which is another way of saying I liked Spain but didn’t love it. Not the way I’ve fallen numerous times for countries as diverse as Germany is from Mexico.

With Japan it was love at first sensory-overloaded sight. China captivated me with its gritty, cacophony, as did London with its starchy-sexy stiff upper lip. Hell, occasionally I even catch myself lusting for Canada, in all its bland, whitewashed politeness. And Jamaica still inspires bamboo levels of turgidity, even though I haven’t seen her coconuts since 1975.

But Spain was different, and maybe my expectations were to blame.

You see, I’ve been trying to get to España for thirty years and through three wives, but something has always derailed me: lack of funds (the 80s) or lack of time (the 90s), divorces (also the 90s), terrorist attacks, Great Recessions and Covid shutdowns have all conspired to thwart my plans. So when the stars finally aligned late last year, we were off on a trip I hoped would have me swooning more than a flamenco dancer in full vuelta quebrada.

Alas, twas not to be, and therein lies a tale as to why I wasn’t hoping for a return the moment I left — the way I always feel when boarding a flight home from Paris or Rome. Was it the cities themselves? Hardly, as they are fascinating and immaculate. The people? You can’t blame them, as Spaniards may not be Mexican- or Italian-friendly, but they’re darn close.

The wine? Well, it doesn’t come close to the polish of French or the varietals of Italy, but it’s a perfect fit with the food. And cheap! More on this below.

Nope, when all my ruminations were done, it came down to the food, which, for all its savor, failed to stir my soul.

Let’s take our Spanish gastronomic capitals one by one, and try to figure out why…

BARCELONA

(El Palatial)

We started in Barcelona, a city I’ve been enchanted by (from a distance) since 1994, after seeing the Whit Stillman movie of the same name.

(Actually, we landed in Madrid, grabbed and excellent eclair and coffee at LHardy, and then bombed around Mercado San Miguel for an hour or so before catching the very fast train to Barcelona the same day, arriving just in time to check into our palatial digs at Hotel El Palace (above) and freshen up for dinner on-premises at the Michelin-starred Amar.

The hotel was everything its name suggested: expansive, old and grandiose, with an eye-popping lobby and solicitous staff, we couldn’t have been happier with our choice. It is also a bit off the beaten track (a half-mile or so from La Rambla), but in a nice neighborhood full of sights and sounds of the city, but also quiet, with a couple of hipster coffee bars on the block, and good shopping just minutes away. With this kind of overture provided by the hotel, Barcelona’s opening act would have to be a showstopper, and unfortunately, Amar, for all of its performative appeal, was not.

Amar checks a lot of boxes: the room is as comfortable and modern as its surrounding hotel is classic. Service was exemplary and there was no faulting the provenance of the seafood.

(Amar you ready for some Spanish shade?)

What it seemed to lack was sense of place or warmth, or anything evoking the city it claims to represent. As sparkling as our oysters, and as flawless the fish, it was a meal that could’ve been served in a thousand restaurants around the world. Indeed, we’ve eaten such a meal, a thousands times. The only things that change are the accents of the waiters.

At the risk of sounding like a broken record: Michelin stars are more reliable in Europe than anywhere else, but still need to be taken with a bit of brine. A Michelin one-star in a European capital will have a certain standard of accoutrements and service, and often a menu more predictable than a Waffle House.

Carpaccio to crudo, caviar service, innovative (?) oysters; a little crab here and a free-range there — the progression of courses (straight up the food chain) is so similar they might as well be AI generated. This is not to say the food wasn’t top-shelf, only predictable. And we didn’t travel 5,000 miles to feast on the familiar.

(Don’t go to the truffle)

To be fair, certain dishes did command respect: Peas with cod tripe and Catalan black pudding (above, adorned with truffles which brought nothing to the party); white beans with tuna and pancetta; and red prawns tasting like they had leapt straight from the boat onto our plates:

(Shrimply irresistible)

Most of it felt like gussied-up peasant fare, and when the formula progressed into high-toned gastronomia, it wasn’t for the better.

Our classic sole meunière — was draped with the weirdest, whitest beurre blanc we’ve ever seen; spider crab cannelloni proved, once again, that pasta should be left to the Italians; and the most impressive thing about the cheese course was the expandable trolley it came in.

Perhaps is was the jet lag, but we wanted to be blown away by our first bites in Barth-a-lona and weren’t. We left thinking of it as just another exercise in generic dining, brought to you by the Michelin Guide.

(Searching…for…selfie wall)

Things got better when they turned less formal the next day. The better parts of two mornings were spent at La Boqueria, with its sensory assaults tempting us at every step and testing our resolve not to spoil lunch by chowing down on everything in sight.

Be forewarned: in the age of Instagram, half of the hoi polloi is there not for the food, but rather to photograph themselves filling their little buckets of narcissism. It becomes a madhouse after noon, so get there at 8 am, so you can cruise around (and chow down on your own, personalized Spanish food crawl) for a few hours before the selfie crowd shows up.

The good news is: this being Spain, no one will bat an eye if you want a cerveza at 10:00 am:

(Beer o’clock)

On day one, we stuffed ourselves silly with jamon:

(Hamming it up)

By day three, we strapped on the blinders and made a beeline to El Quim before a hundred other vendors could tempt us with their wares.

Think of the world’s most hectic lunch counter, located in the middle of one of the world’s most famous urban markets, and you’ll get the sense of Quim’s cacophony. Only in this case, they’re serving patas bravas and croquetas instead of pancakes and hash.

Quim has been called the best Catalan tapas in Barcelona, high praise indeed from no less an expert than Gerry Dawes. What seems intimidating at first (you hang around the counter waiting for a seat(s) to open up) becomes less so as soon as you catch one of the waiters’ eyes and are directed to a stool, then are handed a one-page menu which will fight for your attention with all of the prepared foods and signboard specials tempting you.

We settled on a pork loin sandwich with asparagus, toothsome deep-fried artichokes, eggs with foie gras, and patas bravas for breakfast, forgoing other egg and potato dishes which looked heavenly, but also would have filled us up for the day. Each bite packed a wallop – seriously succulent pork on incredible bread, seared duck liver atop eggs (a belt-and-suspenders approach to richness which will ruin you for bacon and eggs forever), while the fluffy-crisp potatoes were lashed with two competing mayos — one, creamy white, the other possessing serious kick.

Quim is the sort of place you need to go with a group and order a dozen things. Two people and four items don’t make a dent in its delectation. But it is the first place I would recommend to go to any first time visitor, and the one locale I wish we could’ve returned to.

Which is probably something we should have done instead of cruising through the Gothic Quarter to our next venue.

(Can they be less welcoming?)

Dinner at Can Culleretes (the second oldest restaurant in Spain) was punctuated by a surly teenage waitress and a hostess with all the poise of a hemorrhoid. But the historic rooms were a sight to see and the tariff soft – especially wine, where bottles cost what a glass does in Las Vegas. (This held true in both Barcelona and Madrid, in restaurants both humble and hi-falutin’.)

The food, however (a decent mixed seafood grill, lots of stewed proteins), was one b-flat sensation after the next. Anchovies and olives are everywhere (by day three we decided there must be some kind of law against not serving anchovies with every meal); they put a fried egg on everything; and seasonings are remarkably mild. Anyone who tells you there are similarities between Mexican and Spanish food needs to have their head examined. Mexican food is to Spanish what a habanero is to a bell pepper.

The charms of Culleretes’ famed brandade-stuffed cannelloni also escaped us, and with every bite we kept thinking how traditional Catalan must be the three-chord rock of Spanish food.

But I digress.

Can Solé 1903 redeemed Old Barcelona in our eyes with sparkling paella served by friendly folks who seemed genuinely happy to have us. We arrived a few minutes early for lunch and there was already a crowd outside, pretty much split 50-50 between hungry natives and tourists:

(Olé Solé!)

We booked on-line about a month earlier, and, as soon as the doors opened, were shown to the best seat in the house, right under the curtains in the picture above. From there we could watch the steady stream of patrons and various dishes flying forth from the kitchen — all of it washed down with pitchers of white sangria:

(Sangria – the official drink of “just one more glass”)

Can Solé is only a block away from the marina so the scents of the shore permeates the food the way it does in all seaside seafood restaurants. (Whether this is an objective fact or simple sensory suggestion is debatable, but briny creatures always seems to taste sweeter when consumed within eyesight of an ocean.)

Our seafood paella was so infused with the sea it was like breathing a spray of salt air with every bite. A steal at 43 euros:

(I’m on an all-seafood diet: when I see food, I eat it)

What you’ll find in these old school Barcelona establishments is sticker shock in reverse. The most expensive Spanish wine on the Can Solé list was 34 euros. At Can Culleretes it was 29.50 for a very good Priorat red. Even in fancy joints, the pricier offerings were often well under 100 euros. It didn’t take long to figure out what a bargain wine is in Spain, so our group made no apologies for overspending like a bunch of drunken sailors, since even at their highest, the prices were a welcome respite from Las Vegas’s eye-watering tariffs.

Keep in mind, Barcelona, like Vegas is definitely a tourist town too, but we saw little evidence of price-gouging anywhere, and once you get a few blocks off the tourists paths, you can eat like a local and feel like one too.

(Gresca at lunch)

Such was our experience at Gresca — a gastro-pubby hallway of a space so narrow even the vegetables have to enter in single-file. A few blocks west of the tony Passeig de Gràcia, Barcelona’s Fifth Avenue, this shoe box houses a row of four-tops along one cramped wall, and an open kitchen which straddles a second parallel space. The few waitstaff scramble between tables, while in the kitchen, a half-dozen cooks toil away, churning out small plates (not really tapas, despite what the interwebs say) that were the most compelling dishes we had in Spain. Of course, all of the usual suspects were there on the menu, but with a little guidance we crafted a menu of dishes that showed both ingenuity and restraint. A rarity in “modern” restaurants these days.

Rabbit kidneys, sweetbreads, bacon-thin bikini cheese toast, cod “gilda” pintxos, grilled quail, all of it so toothsome we were fighting over the last bites:

(Itsy bitsy teeny weeny bikinis)

(Thymus be in heaven)

Everything washed down with excellent wines from regions we barely know made by producers we’ve never heard of — which is why god invented sommeliers.

WINE GEEK ALERT: These wines were some of the best of the trip, and we quickly learned Corpinnat is the new Cava. Much as Valdobbiadene has replaced Prosecco, these premium Corazón de Penedès sparklers were tired of being lumped with mass-produced plonk, and have re-made and re-marketed themselves into world-class bubbly.

(Life is too short to drink bad wine)

If Gresca made us feel like an in-the-know local, Lomo Alto brought out our inner carnivorous connoisseur.

What resembles a slightly antiseptic butcher shop upon entering, leads up a stairway to a second floor of capacious booths designed for one thing: to showcase the best beef in Spain. Before you get to your dictionary-thick steaks, you’ll first plow through some beautiful bread, three kinds of olive oil, “old cow” carpaccio with smoked Castilian cheese, and some of the softest artichokes known to man.

Then the carving starts and you are transported to a higher level of beef eating:

I am a firm believer in table-side carving…of everything from rib eyes to ice cream. pic.twitter.com/vjCfJVg4WV

— John Curtas (@eatinglasvegas) February 28, 2024

The Spanish way to cook beef is basically to yell “fire!” at the meat as it is leaving the kitchen. Need proof? This is what they call medium-rare:

Make no mistake, though, it was an aged steak for the ages. We did a side-by-side of two steaks (a vaca vieja chuleta – beef aged both on the hoof and in the fridge), the other a very lean, 60-80 day aged strip of Simmental beef from Germany. Neither was cheap. (145 euros and 118 euros) together amounting to about $300 of European, grass-fed beef split between four people. As compared to an American steakhouse (remember, we practically invented the genre), I’d give it and A- for food (the Simmental was as chewy as overcooked octopus and not worth the tariff) and high marks for service, despite the room exuding all the hospitality of a hospital. But I’ll remember that steak and those starters for a long, long time.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Was Barcelona worth it after thirty years of anticipation? I wish I could say yes, but nothing we ate was memorable enough to draw me back there.

Not to end on a sour note, but much of the traditional Catalan cuisine left us cold. Bread, stews, olives and anchovies are nothing to scoff at, but when you see them at every restaurant for days on end, the template gets tiresome. Anyone expecting vibrant seasonings, or a little spice with their ultra-fresh ingredients will quickly discover they’ve landed on the wrong shore.

In spite of the gorgeous Gothic quarter, the shimmering seafood, and those steaks, and the tapas of Quim and the precision of Gresca, we left Barcelona feeling there wasn’t much left for us to try.

Before you take me to task, I know all cities are full of surprises, and a single visit barely scratches the surface. Perhaps next time someone like this big guy will show us a range of flavors we didn’t experience.

After all, some of the world’s greatest romances started with a whimper instead of a bang.

This is the Part One of a two-part article.

Share this post:

Share this post:

Share this post: