Grape Expectations – Las Vegas’s Best Wine Drinking

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(ELV note: The following article appears this month in Desert Companion magazine. Continue reading below or click here to see it in its original format. Unfortunately, to read it in the magazine, you’ll have to muddle through all sorts of drivel about whiskies, cocktails and beer — inferior liquids that exist only as weak(?) substitutes for the beverage you ought to be drinking.)

GRAPE EXPECTATIONS – Las Vegas’s Best Wine Drinking

Las Vegas isn’t really a “wine bar” sort of town.  Wine bars generally require (and promote) a certain level of contemplative thought, and Las Vegas generally is about as contemplative as a UFC cage match. But this doesn’t mean there aren’t fabulous places to indulge in your taste for fermented grapes. What it means is that you have to go to some of our finer restaurants to find wines (by the glass or bottle), that will blow your socks off. Below are my 13 favorite sipping venues – places where our town’s great sommeliers take enormous pride in pouring vintages from around the globe – wines you can drink, or think about, to your grape’s content.

ESTIATORIO MILOS

Greek wines may be unpronounceable, but they’re also delicious. They’re also substantially under-priced compared to similar seafood-friendly wines from France and Italy. Don’t even try to master the odd lisps and tongue rolls of Assyrtiko, Moshofilero or Mavrodaphne. Just point and smile, or ask the staff for help. (I promise they won’t make fun of you.) Anyone who orders anything but Greek wines with this food should be sentenced to a year of drinking nothing but Harvey Wallbangers.

RESTAURANT GUY SAVOY

The list is as thick as a dictionary, and, at first blush, not for the faint of heart or parsimonious of purse. But look closely and you’ll find a surprising number of bargains for under $100. Or ask sommelier Phil Park and he will happily point them out to you. The champagne bar is where you’ll find serious oenophiles perusing the list a full half hour before their reservation, just like they do it in France.

CHADA STREET/CHADA THAI

These two sister restaurants are a few miles apart, but connected by a love of white wines that owner Bank Atcharawan has successfully brought to Chinatown. Both lists are deep in Rieslings and chardonnays, and the champagne selection at Chada Street puts most Strip lists to shame, at decidedly gentler prices. Not for nothing does every sommelier in Las Vegas treat both of these venues like their personal after-hours club.

MARCHÉ BACCHUS

A pinot noir wall, lakeside dining and the gentlest mark-ups in town ($10 over retail) make MB a must-stop on any wine lover’s tour of Vegas. Jeff and Rhonda Wyatt are always there to help you choose a glass or a case of whatever mainstream cab or off-beat syrah suits your fancy. Or do what I do: just stick with Burgundy and go nuts.

FERRARO’S ITALIAN RESTAURANT & WINE BAR

What I love about Italian wines is what I love about Italians and Italian food – they are friendly, passionate, fiercely regional and confusing, in a good way. Don’t know your Montelcinos from your Montepulcianos? No problemo, Geno Ferraro is always there to help you parse the Barbarescos from the Barolos. One of the greatest Italian lists in America at one of our finest Italian restaurants.

BAZAAR MEATS

I don’t understand Spanish wine any more than I understand how José Andrés can have so much energy and so many great restaurants. But the next best thing to knowing a lot about a country’s wines is knowing a sommelier who is eager to teach you. Chloe Helfand is that gal in Las Vegas, and she is always there with a smile and a lip-smacking wine you don’t know made with a grape you’ve never heard of. Which is one of the reasons we love sommeliers. And Chloe.

LA CAVE

Mark Hefter’s wine program is a lot like Mark Hefter: Fun, interesting, intelligent and all-over-the-map. Hefter has poured wine from Le Cirque 2000 in New York to Spago and Circo in Las Vegas, and needless to say, the man knows his grapes. With over 50 wines by the glass, he can dazzle anyone from the novice drinker to the dedicated oenophile. But what we love about his list is its eclecticism. Here is where you can dip your toe into the world’s most interesting wines at very friendly price points. Curious about those orange and pink wines that are all the rage these days? Here’s where to start.

CARNEVINO

If your measure of a great wine bar is the number of wines by the glass offered, look elsewhere. If you rate your wine tasting by quality – of the breadth and depth of the list, the bar snacks, the staff, and the mixology (should you stray into creative boozy territory) — then this is your place. The list is conveniently located inside the (massive) menu, and the mark-ups are not for the timid. But the excellence of everything – from the steaks to the pastas to the Super-Tuscan verticals – will take your breath away.

LOTUS OF SIAM

Robert Parker (yeah, that Robert Parker) calls Lotus’s wine card the greatest German wine list in America, and we have no reason to argue with him. It’s also shoulder-deep in sake, Alsatian whites, and Austrian Grüner Veltliners – all of which match (in surprising ways) Saipan Chutima’s fierce and fiery country Thai cooking.  This is where you’ll find almost every wine professional in town on their day off, usually at a table groaning with Riesling bottles.

SAGE

The trouble with Sage is the food is so good sometimes you forget about the wine,  and the wine list is so good sometimes you forget about the food. I like California pinot noir and chardonnay with Shawn McClain’s innovative fare, but the list covers the world in all areas of consequence. Choices like this are a happy conundrum to have, whether you’re dining in the main room or hanging out in the stunning bar.

 HEARTHSTONE KITCHEN & CELLAR

Great wine drinking in the ‘burbs is harder to find than a corner without a fast food franchise. Hearthstone deserves props for actually having a wine program, and for a list that breaks down according to varietal character – “Big Reds,” “Crisp, Clean & Lean,” “Voluptuous But Light,” etc. The by-the-glass selection is solid, but what really gets our attention is the ½ off Monday night specials, that allows for some serious drinking of some serious bottles. That discount only counts for bottles under a Benjamin, but if you’ve got the coin, $2,500 for a bottle of ‘o5 DRC Echezeaux, or $2,800 for some Screaming Eagle, are also flat out steals.

BIN 702

Downtown Las Vegas is so wine-challenged it makes Summerlin look like Napa Valley. Amidst all of the bars and hipster hangouts, though, this teeny tiny space in Container Park holds forth with small selection of interesting reds and whites from around the globe – most in the $30-$60 range. Wine snobs will be underwhelmed, but for those looking for a break from craft cocktails and exotic coffees, it’s an oasis.

STANDARD & POUR Prognosticating

How you feel about Standard & Pour will pretty much depend upon your venison tartare temperament.

Does the above dish look lip-smackingly good to you? Or like something the cat left behind?

Do you want its moist, raw, fresh, well-seasoned deer flesh to envelop your tongue? Or will you not give it a chance to impress you, as bits of white chocolate intermingle with fallow freshness and the crunch of onions?

Do you even know what cherry mostarda is? Do you care?

In other words, are you an avid foodie who’s up for something adventurous and tasty….or do you live in Henderson, Nevada?

Because if you’re the former, you’ll love the place; and if you’re like most people who live within a ten mile radius of the south Eastern Avenue corridor, you’re more likely to sniff around here once or twice and then head to your comfort zone. (More on this in a minute.)

Is the food good at Standard & Pour? Of course it is. It’s Kerry Simon food. Cory Harwell food. Comfort food, elevated. Well thought out, impeccably dressed and carefully executed.

But that’s beside the point.

The point is: This place has done everything right and still might be wrong for the neighborhood.

Is Henderson ready for a cool and cozy patio? A second floor walk-up restaurant that’s spent real money on a groovy bar, with-it decor, and foodie-friendly accoutrements: craft beers, bespoke cocktails, aged-this and smoked-that?

Do the people who keep Carraba’s and Panda Express and LYFE Kitchen humming really care that offal-ly good “tongue & cheek” agnolotti, snail Wellington, and house-cured gravlax:

….are within their grasp?

Put another way: Are there more than a hundred or so intrepid epicures in the entire southeastern quadrant of our humble burg?

The answer is, of course, no.

The whole point of Eastern Ave. is big box, developer-friendly, franchise-safe stores. Predictablility and profits are what this entire community was zoned for (thank you bought-and-paid-for politicians!), and anything unique or personal is frowned upon.

“But my kids really like Grimaldi’s,” you say, “and what’s so wrong with Twin Peaks?”

Of course you’re right. You moved to stucco city precisely because you loved the predictability and conformity. No outside the box eating for you. Applebee’s for everyone!

People have tried to argue with you, but to no avail. There have been five previous restaurants in this space and all have failed. David Clawson tried serving a similar menu of chef-driven creations, a couple of miles up the road and he lasted one year. Bread & Butter didn’t make it. Pizza Novecento was a bust. All while BJ’s Brewhouse is packin’ them in.

But if you, dear reader, are not one of the slack-jawed hordes, take heart. If you are in that .00001% of Henderson residents who are interested in really good, interesting food at a fair price, this place will become your personal clubhouse in no time.

Lest we be too promiscuous with our praise, let us state that the menu, as good as most things are, is still a work in progress.

As much as we wanted to like this carrot risotto:

 

…we found it irredeemably gummy. Ditto an overly dense (but very cheesy) mac & cheese and some much-too-salt-i-ly sauced chicken thighs.

But those were the only clinkers in an all-over-the-map menu that scores time and again with incredible salt & pepper fries:

….crispy oysters (not pictured), and some magnificent meatballs:

.

For every miss (we didn’t care for the messy, confusing kimchi tacos), there was hit after toothsome hit.

Pulling off recipes that run the gamut from sambal shrimp to the aforementioned snails Welllington is no easy feat, and Executive Chef Jake Dielemen (a veteran of MarcheBacchus, Carnevino and Alizê) has the chops to do it. (Don’t miss his ode-to-Carl’s Jr. mini-burgers.)

Desserts are as far from your standard “ice cream, cake and cookies” as Boulder City is from Beijing. Fruit Loop Panna Cotta has no discernible fruit loops, but is dotted with enough fresh-made raspberry “gummies,” blueberries, and hazelnuts to keep the kids (and many an adult) happy. Our saffron rice pudding suffered from being slightly under-cooked, but packs a real flavor punch when garnished with the available pomegranate seeds, dates, and pistachios.

Eclectic, around-the-world restaurants define the new American eating experience for a certain level of upper-middle-class gastronauts, but they must be hell on wheels when it comes to getting the seasonings right. Here, with one exception (out of twelve dishes tried), they get the seasonings right. With a little work on their starches, they’ll get the textures right, too.

Multifarious, cross-pollinated  menus may be all the rage elsewhere in America, but is Hendertucky ready for them? Whether it is or not, the cocktail bar here may be its salvation. Henderhipsters desperately need a place to congregate, and this may be just the ticket.

As much as we love to bag on Millennials, you have to give them credit for not buying into the same old, chain-link, suburban lifestyle shite that filled up the houses of Monochrome Valley two decades ago. The under 35 crowd may take to S&P like Molly to an electric daisy. (If you don’t get the reference, dollars to doughnuts you own a house that looks exactly like your neighbor’s.) These youngsters want something fresh and un-franchised. This concept is designed to dazzle them, not their elders.They may ultimately be the crowd that saves Standard & Pour.

The problem is, when we dined here, we were surrounded by people who looked like they got lost on their way to a slot tournament at Green Valley Ranch.

Until you weed them out (or they revert to form and their early bird specials), S&P — the concept, the cocktails and the comestibles — will be too hip for the room.

We hope we’re wrong about this.

ELV’s dinner was comped, but dinner for two with a couple of drinks should run around $100-$120. Cocktails are $12/each and all wines on the very limited list are under $50. What the list lacks in variety it makes up for in lack of imagination.

 

 STANDARD & POUR
11261 South Eastern Ave. #200
Henderson, NV
702.629.5523

Ruminations on THE Arnold Palmer

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I hate iced tea. I hate iced tea because iced tea is nothing. It is not tea and it is not water. All iced tea is is a murky brown liquid that has only the vaguest resemblance to its name.

Iced tea looks and tastes like a polluted, stagnant swimming pool. Iced tea is what you order when you want to pretend to be drinking something, when actually you are drinking nothing but rusty, mouth-drying H2O.

You know who loves iced tea? Americans. Americans order it because it makes them feel like they’re ordering something special to drink, when in reality, they are ordering nothing but perfectly good water that’s been spoiled by a weak bag of gawdawful, cheap tea.

Tea is, and always has been, a warm drink. A drink whose flavor derives from the steeping of leaves (fresh, dried or fermented) in hot water — the better to release the essences, aromas, antioxidants and tannin from the leaves. I hate hot tea too, but when it’s made properly, i.e., carefully and warm, at least it tastes like what it is….and what it’s supposed to be.

Arnold Palmer obviously recognized the loathsome qualities of iced tea when he had the good sense to add some lemonade to his way back in the Sixties. But to my mind, he only made things worse. Because once the most popular athlete on the planet decided to do christen a drink (especially at the dawn of the television advertising age), everybody wanted to get on board. As a result, from about 1964 forward, every single, goddamned country club, golf course, watering hole, backwater diner, luncheonette and shithole restaurant in the goddamned country has been making gallons of iced friggin’ tea to slake the thirst of  slackjawed customers who would be better off with a glass of f*cking water.

Yep, Arnie sure figured out how to make the worst cold drink on the planet palatable, but he also ended up ruining a perfectly good glass of lemonade in the process.

I can forgive Arnie this transgression because I, like so many others, loved Arnold Palmer, the man.  By all accounts he was the genuine article. A kind, warm, friendly fellow who never let his fame go to his head. There are probably a million people out there who have a story about Palmer shaking their hand, looking into their eyes, and treating them, if only for a moment or two, like the most important person he had ever met.

I forgave Arnie a long time ago for his sins. For never winning the PGA, for blowing a seven stroke lead on Billy Casper in the U.S. Open and for not beating Jack Nicklaus more than he did. He let me and my dad down more than once as we stared into a grainy TV picture and tried to cheer him on to one of his famous “charges” on the back nine of a tournament. But somehow, in losing, he became even more beloved, even more noble. Palmer fans felt the heartbreak with every missed fairway or putt. His expressive face and emotions-on-his-sleeve demeanor pulled us into his world — unlike the cold, calculating Nicklaus who exuded all the warmth of a two-iron.

They say they don’t make ’em like that anymore and they don’t. When news of his death reached the PGA Tour late yesterday, the tributes and accolades came pouring in. But one of the most telling came from Rory McIlroy (from all accounts, a decent chap in his own right):  “If it weren’t for Arnie, we wouldn’t have all the success we have (on the tour), and we wouldn’t be playing for the obscene amounts of money we do today.”

So true, and so true that athletes today (in all sports) can make a name for themselves and immediately rope themselves off from reality and their fans. Arnold Palmer never roped himself off from anyone. For over half a century (and most of my life), he was one of the most famous people in the world, but he never acted like it.

I saw him in person only once, at the Citrus Open golf tournament in Orlando, Florida, back in 1967. He walked right past me on his way to the first tee, surrounded by fans and officials. (You could actually walk along with the players then, unlike today.) I remember thinking he was smaller than I thought he would be. In my teenage brain, I guess I expected him to be a foot taller than me. But there he was, smiling at everyone, and shaking hand after hand with those big, bricklayer paws of his. A gentleman in a gentleman’s sport who didn’t know how to be any other way.

“My father taught me that just because you’re famous doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be nice,” he liked to say, and boy did he ever take the lesson to heart.

The world seems like a lesser place when someone like Arnold Palmer dies. No other athlete ever has had, or ever will have, the uplifting and transcendent impact on his/her sport that Arnold Palmer did. He got me into golf (the only sport I’ve ever been good at), and by doing so, he gave me a bond with my father that lasted a lifetime. Most of all, though, he showed me (and the world) how to be great at something and do it with grace and style and humility.

RIP Arnie. I don’t hit the links much anymore, but the next time I do, I may even have an “Arnold Palmer” in your memory. But please forgive me if I opt for a Rolling Rock (which used to be made in your hometown) instead.

 

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