The 3% Solution

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You would’ve thought someone had put Rice Krispies in the Nam Khao Tod.

But this brouhaha had nothing to do with food.

What it concerned was this little cost dollop added to the bill, at Lotus of Siam, which hit the presses last week:

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THANK YOU. The 3% employee health insurance added to you bill help our team members afford health insurance for them and their families that is provided by the restaurant. Thank you for supporting a healthier Las Vegas. If you would like the charge removed, please let your server know and the charge will be removed.

The haters had a field day:

“Greedy owners!”

“I’ll never eat there again!”

“Obnoxious.”

“Tacky.”

“I hope this place closes.”

The dummies were out in force:

“We won’t be eating there. Customers should not have to pay for employees insurance/medical”

“The food is terrible and too expensive. Now I’ll never go back.” (A 3% surcharge apparently being more of a deal-breaker than terrible, overpriced food. Ed. note: the food at Lotus is some of the best Thai food in America.)

“This is what happens when California socialism destroys America.”

“I dont pay junk fees, so Avoid places like this. You fee me to death, you never get my business again. I dont CARE about your financial problems, don’t fee me to pay for your inability to make money,”

The slightly more rational objectors pointed out:

“It’s not our job to pay your employee’s healthcare! It doesn’t matter if the fee is optional the fact you put that on customers is ridiculous. Just spend the money and reprint menus and build it into your cost and not go the cheap route on the register receipt!”

So, you don’t want to supply your employee’s any benefits – but you think your customers should pay for it on top of your profit? Yeah, that’s going to go over like a lead balloon!

And a few intelligent folks chimed in along the lines of:

“I don’t mind paying an additional 3% for their healthcare. The restaurant should increase menu prices 3% instead of adding it to the bill separately; that way people can quit complaining. You guys are complaining about 30 cents for every $10.”

So it went on for hundreds and hundreds of comments, most of them by turns negative, incensed and disgusted.

Here’s the official statement, by Nay Chua, daughter of LOS founders Bill and Saipin Chutima:

 I do my best as a person to be able to provide, help and encourage my employees. I try to help by leveraging their cost so they can enjoy their way of life. I am able to provide my employees with a livable wage, with work hours that don’t impact their mental health or physical. I help my staff and their families. I try to save my staff on their deductions, their taxes, whatever they need help on, in legal fees and even personal problems.

Chua has also said in social media posts that she doesn’t want to increase prices (because she gets taxed on the revenue), or pay it directly to her employees (because it would then be taxed to them as income).

What’s going on here? Aside from diners generally being cheapskates and ignorant about how restaurants run?

Before we get to the answer(s), however, a few thoughts about what Lotus of Siam (our most famous and decorated restaurant), is trying to do.

By tacking on an additional 3% to the bill (which you see only at the end of your meal), it is asking the patron to subsidize its health insurance cost to employees. (Because it has more than 50 employees, LOS is mandated by law to provide health care coverage.)

But nothing raises a restaurant customer’s ire more than being told (asked?) to pay a little more for their meal. Especially when it’s a separate charge, specifically earmarked to help the restaurant’s employees.

Keep in mind the no-tipping policy of some restaurants is still under siege.

People love the illusion that they are totally in control of how much waiters get paid to deliver their food. Asking them to pay a little more is seen by many to be a personal affront.

Asking patrons to help a restaurant provide decent health insurance to its workers is something new (and admirable), but from the comments, you’d think the restaurant was asking its paying customers to underwrite a human trafficking operation.

Almost immediately upon showing this surcharge, the social media blowup began.

Image result for Nam khao tod(I would happily pay 36 cents more for this)

My thoughts:

The restaurant industry has created its own hell of unreasonable expectations, and now it’s being burned.

But the blame does not rest solely on its beefy shoulders; there’s plenty of chicken fingers to point at the other participants in this unholy stew of how we pay people to serve us. And now (to keep my metaphors mixed) those putrid birds are coming home to roost.

By depending on diners to directly defer labor costs, all sorts of false expectations get reinforced with each tip paid at almost every restaurant in America.

Thus does a culture of obliviousness remain here about the true cost of eating out.

This surcharge represents another in a long list of creative ways the hospitality industry has tried to boost its bottom line (or minimize expenses) by tacking on fees rather than incorporating them into the price being charged for what is actually being bought: be it a hotel bed, a meal, or a plane ticket to Timbuktu.

Nobody wants to actually raise prices (THAT WOULD DRIVE AWAY CUSTOMERS!) so instead they prefer to nibble their patrons to death with minnow-sized fees.

The bottom line is the bottom line: the restaurant industry has relied on customers underwriting their employment costs for so long, it can’t break the cycle of dependence. Foisting a significant part of its expenses on customers on an ad hoc, piecemeal basis has become a habit they can’t break.

For waiters, getting paid by customers as a different line item on the bill has been a sweet deal for years.

Customers get to see a lower check cost (while retaining the illusion that they somehow “control” or “reward” how good the service is); the waitstaff retains a deluded sense of independence (and the ability to cheat on their taxes); and the owner gets to pawn off part of his/her labor costs. (Wouldn’t my dry cleaner and lawn guys love it if they could tell their employees to look to me directly to help them make their paycheck.)

The trouble is, of course, that with all that freedom (from all points of the 3-legged stool) comes an in-bred lack of responsibility.

Customers aren’t paying the true cost of the meal (they’re chopping it up into segments so they can fool themselves about only paying $40 for dinner, even though they left a 22% tip and the actual cost was closer to fifty bucks.)

Waiters can make out like bandits — although with cash become scarcer, the (tax free) wad in your pocket at the end of the night is becoming rarer. And benefits? FUCK benefits. “Gimme the $$$ and I’ll benefit myself,” has been the mantra of restaurant workers for about a hundred years.

As for the owners….well, they’ve let these twin delusions keep them in tall cotton for a long time.

But things they be-a changing.

Whether it’s our booming economy, health-care politics, Millennial-inspired advocacy, or a mini-revolution how we eat out, a sea change in how restaurants operate is underway.

As governments have gotten more aggressive with labor laws, minimum wages, health care, etc., creative accountants have come up with all kinds of ways to defer expenses without raising prices.

In California, an entire cottage industry has sprung up advising restaurants how to increase the bill without actually having to pay more to the help, or in taxes.

It’s all a big exhausting game pitting the restaurant versus its employees and customers, in a new sort of 3-way contest.

And the big losers are you, the diner. The person who only wants some good, clean, tasty food delivered to him at a fair price.

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My thoughts Part II:

There’s nothing inherently wrong with the LOS gambit — it’s clearly a fair way for them to enlist the customer’s help in underwriting health care costs.

But the optics are all wrong.

The 3% charge may be optional, but not really. You have to take pains to have it removed. And as soon as it hits the table, the diner feels they’ve been had. And no one, in a restaurant like to feel like the restaurant has pulled a “gotcha!”

The moment the tariff is presented, the appearance is one of an entire dishonest exchange from the get-go. (People don’t read signs, let’s face it.)  By surprising the client, with a charge that has nothing to do with the food or service (see above), the restaurant is ensuring awkwardness all around.

The surcharge also inserts two things into people’s meals most would prefer to avoid: economics and politics — both of which leave a bad taste in the mouth.

And let’s face it: People are petty. If tacking a $1.50 fee onto a $50 bill (for an admittedly good cause) will keep them from a night on the town, then they shouldn’t be eating out in the first place. But the very act of asking them triggers something supremely small-minded in some folks (makes them think, perhaps?), and they will take their pettiness out on you.

The owners of Lotus of Siam are to be commended for their transparency in instituting this measure. Their intentions are honorable, but their methodology is flawed. As much as segregating an employee benefit and asking your patrons to help you finance it would seem to be the “right thing” to do, people, lots of them, won’t see it that way.

This 3% addendum creates a whole new dynamic between restaurant and customer far beyond the “you pay me, I’ll give you food” formula that has been in place for 200 years.

In a perfect world, we’d all be paying more for our food. Americans have become fat, stupid and lazy relying on cheap restaurant food (and labor) to sustain them. We eat so shitty because we eat so cheap. It’s high time we paid more for good food and paid restaurant employees like every other job.

Such a paradigm shift may be on the horizon, but in this town, at this time, if you want to bestow employees with more benefits (and not endure the blow-back), the best thing to do is add a buck to the price of your burrito.

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New Restaurants Are Floating Our Boat + One That’s Already Sunk

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Writing strictly about restaurants is no longer an obsession with us. This doesn’t mean we no longer prowl the streets of Las Vegas searching for good eats, but only that we’re not nearly as consumed by it as we once were.

We at #BeingJohnCurtas are now content to occasionally explore what’s new in local eats, but mostly, we retreat to the tried and true these days when it comes to dining out. After 25 years of this gig, we’ll leave the manic examination of our food scene to the erudite influencers and other excitable youngsters.

John Curtas can still get a boner, though, over the crispy authenticity of Ton Ton Katsuya, and his panties get moist over the mole taquitos at La Monjá.

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Ton Ton is terrific — a must for lovers of the panko-crusted, high-heat, deep-fried pork cutlets and seafood that Japanese chefs do better than anyone.

La Monjá (The Nun) is the latest in Dan Krohmer’s quest for Vegas restaurant hegemony. It hit a rough patch right out of the gate after opening in September (both original chefs left/were shown the door), but the simple menu of ceviches, tacos, steak, shrimp, and enhanced Mexican street food tastes like a sure winner….and a welcome change of pace from all of the “elevated American gastropubs” at this end of Fremont Street.

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While in one of his ever-rarer exploratory moods, Mr. Curtas recently ventured to Burnt Offerings. This excursion illustrates why he’d rather leave the intrepid examination of oddball eats to others — Burnt Offerings being by turns compelling and slightly weird.

Image(Jewish penicillin, complete with hypodermic)

The chef/owner — Jennifer Weiss Eckmann — has done a fine job updating a run-down Chinese joint on West Sahara into a presentable restaurant, but her Glatt Kosher menu is too ambitious by half.

Strict adherence to Jewish dietary laws means she also won’t be open on Friday and Saturday nights, and while we loved some things (her sauces and dips are a dream, so is her chicken-matzoh ball soup), we left shaking our heads over others (the barbecue beef needs work, and a lot more time on the smoke).

It is too late in John Curtas’s life for him to argue with people over arcane religious eating rules, so all he can do is wish Eckmann well, and try to get back some weeknight to suss out more Yiddish sustenance.

Image(I’ll have what she’s having)

Another opening that has him all a-Twitter is Garagiste Wine Bar & Merchant (above) in the Arts District in downtown Las Vegas — the first true wine bar to open in like….forever. Owners Mario Enriquez and Eric Prato are Strip veterans and have sunk their savings (and considerable expertise) into an operation unlike anything  Vegas has ever seen.

This is not some suburban supermarket wine sipping stop (a la Grape Street or Local), this is the real, big city deal — the type of wine bar gaining currency from Los Angeles to New York — featuring a highly curated list of exotic grape juice from some of the most interesting wineries in the world.

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With everything from JL Chave to noteworthy Nebbiolo to natural wines, Garagiste (the name refers to small-batch, exclusive, Right Bank Bordeaux wineries) is banking on a growing Millenial thirst for great grapes to take hold here, and the early returns (and crowds) have been encouraging.

Those looking for Sonoma chardonnays like they discovered during some insipid California foray should stay in Summerlin.

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On the buzzkill front, word came down yesterday that bBd’s in the Palace Station Hotel and Casino will be closing next week. Those who follow us know what huge fans we are of Ralph Perrazzo and his meat machinations. bBd’s had quite simply the best burgers in town.

It also had an incredible beer program featuring obscure artisanal brews from all over the globe. The meat was ground in-house, and the steaks were a steal, equaling anything you can find a mile to the east at a 20% discount.

Image(Boffo beef at a bargain)

So what went wrong? Plenty. Like many a chef before him, Ralph was seduced by clueless hotel F&B honchos. We’re sure they sang him a sweet song about all of the fabulous upgrades and renovations which were going to set a whole new paradigm for the Palace Station — the ultimate low-rent, smelly ashtray, god’s waiting room, grind joint.

Yes, they built a bunch of new rooms, threw in a movie theater, and expanded one side of the depressing casino to accommodate some new food options, but what they didn’t/couldn’t do is change the clientele.  Or the reputation.

Everyone from Lake Mead to Los Angeles knows what the Palace Station is: an old people hotel. Hell, it was our dad’s favorite whenever he came to Vegas….and he loved coming to Vegas.

Anthony John Curtas (1926-2006) loved the Palace Station (formerly the Bingo Palace), because he was in his element. But he is gone now, and even as he as his contemporaries have died off, their favorite hotel is burdened with their legacy of dropping all those coins into all those slots for all those decades. Trying to upgrade the PS is like trying to make horseshoes hip.

The other problem with bBd’s was its size. The bar was the length of a football field and it was too big by at least 100 seats. And the name and the logo also stunk (sorry, Ralph). bBd’s had about as much chance for success as John Curtas in a triathlon.

We ate there about ten times in the year it was open. And we’ll dream about Perrazzo’s steamed cheeseburger until he finds another (smaller, more locals-friendly) place to bring his boffo beef.

We’ll let Ralph P. have the last word here:

The past year John Curtas has snuck into bBd’s multiple times for lunch and dinner, eating his way through our menu spending his own money. In NY, food writers and reviewers for a publication don’t get a comp number or want to be taken care of for some marketing material. Their experience as a regular guest is what is looked upon, a true test to what the place is not by one visit but multiple. Hate him or love him, I completely respect his way of reviewing a place even if we were not in this book of great places in Las Vegas.

Going on 25 years in this business Yelp, FB, etc has put a serious change on how we operate. Restaurant owners and chefs appreciate the food bloggers & legitimate food reviewers more than ever. I look forward to doing more in LV and sharing that with all the people who have been nothing but supportive of my heart & soul that is bBd’s that was started in NY.

We have some big news coming out soon and can’t thank the team at bBd’s enough for pushing. I say it all the time you are only as good as your team and your relationships with the product that comes in the back door. This business is a professional sport that comes with many obstacles and adjustments and you must be Michael Jordan. Thank you Mr. Curtas

Thank YOU, Ralph, we look forward to you floating our boat with whatever you have planned:

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Pouring Over Downtown’s Coffee Scene

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Downtown is awash in great coffee these days. So, as a public service, we at #BeingJohnCurtas thought we’d scope them out for you.

Before we begin, some admissions are in order:

One, yours truly is no coffee connoisseur. In fact, coffee is something yours truly swore off of for the longest time. Having been married to two caffeine fiends in a row (the type who need a hot, steaming cup in their hands the minute their eyes pop open in the morning), we pretty much gave it up for a decade or so in the late 20th century.

Admission number two: #BeingJohnCurtas doesn’t give a puck about pour-overs, cold brews and nitro this or flat white that. John Curtas is a coffee classicist first and foremost.

Image(Cappuccino at Writer’s Block)

Italy is where JC regained his caffeine mojo fifteen years ago, and Italians are the coffee standard by which all others are measured. A bad cup of caffè is harder to find in Italy than a Southern Baptist, and when it comes to brews — from ristrettos to correttos — they get it right, whether you’re in an airport, a trattoria, or a convenience store.

Coffee is wonderfully subjective, both the flavors and one’s relationship to it. One man’s macchiato might not cut the cortado for another. Some use it simply to get up in the morning; for others it’s a social thing. Some people like to drink coffee all day long; others can’t stomach it after lunch. One of our exes could pound a doppio espresso at 10:00 pm and sleep like a baby.

But like a lot of beautifully simple things, coffee has also jumped the the shark in multiple ways. The whole barista thing is pathetically ridiculous. As is obsessing over your beans’ origins and attending coffee “cuppings.” Whatever you might think about comparative tastings (and sure, they can be fun no matter what the beverage), giving “awards” to people for pouring a cup of joe is as dumb as competing for who is the best lasagna layer.

In other words: we care not a whit about fancy-dancy ornamentation or exotic concoctions. They are the quintessential Millennial pursuit: creating a cult of obsession  over something that should be elementally satisfying on its own terms, without parsing the details to death.

Image(Dueling espressos at PublicUs)

When it comes to all things Arabica, it is about the warm, brownish glow of these beans and the soul-soothing broth they bring forth. To us, it’s about the ritual, the taste and the deeply-satisfying buzz you get from a good cup.

If you’re expecting a dissertation on free-trade fermentation, you’ve come to the wrong place.

But know this: there isn’t a coffee house in Las Vegas who can make a proper espresso to save their life. None of them gets the viscous, syrupy mouthfeel right, and the primary flavor component is always sour, as opposed to the sweet-bitter release of a great Italian cup.

So bad are local espressos, we’ve given up entirely. If you want a good one, go to Cipriani at the Wynn. It’s the only one we’ve had recently that truly tastes of Italy.

But I’ve sampled the wares at all of our newest coffee hound hangouts, and here are my conclusions. For ease of reference, we’ve broken each coffee shop into five components: Coffee, Comfort, Comestibles, Crew and Crowd.

PUBLICUS

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PublicUs kickstarted downtown’s coffee renaissance  five years ago in a big way. It’s always busy, despite being on a forlorn corner of east Fremont Street. Until Vesta came along a couple of years later, it had the upscale coffee market all to itself.

Coffee – the espressos here range from unforgivably sour to lightly bitter and acidic, depending on the beans they are made with. The cappuccino is wonderful, as are the pour-overs (what, back in the day we called good old Chemex drip). The cappuccino is the closest you’ll get to Rome in the High Mojave Desert.

Comfort – everything from two-tops to communal tables, in a modern, naturally-lit room that screams “urban hipster hangout.” Nice bathrooms. In fact bathrooms so nice they make you want to go to the bathroom.

Comestibles – all made in-house. Excellent pastries; good savories, avocado toast, waffles, and even a killer corned beef hash on polenta. If you’re hungry for a big breakfast or lunch with a nice range of menu choices, this is where you want to come.

Crew – young, attractive, lots of crazy haircuts, tatts and such. Invariably friendly and fast. The baristas know their beans.

Crowd – an odd assortment of hipsters, youngsters, ‘grammers and tourists….with tables of actual grownups thrown in the mix occasionally. (Amazingly, a lot of cops love it here too.) Probably the artsiest crowd of the coffee bars downtown. This is where you’re also most likely to see some poseur walk in with one of their filthy dogs.

VESTA COFFEE ROASTERS

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Mr. Curtas has a confession to make: he is secretly in love with all of the female baristas here. (Please do not tell Mrs. Curtas.) Because of this, he cannot be fully objective about Vesta Coffee Roasters, although he will try.

Coffee – strong. Really strong. The most lethal of any coffees downtown. All roasting is done on premises and you can taste the freshness. You can also taste a cappuccino that, compared to other brews, hits you like 151 rum after a light beer. The Food Gal® (aka the Mrs. Curtas referred to above) also swears by something called “Golden Milk” here, which isn’t coffee per se, but which she claims has health-giving properties. In the summer, we’re also partial to their “Espresso Tonic” which is just what it sounds like: cold espresso mixed with tonic and lemon. Remarkably refreshing. The cold brew here is also our favorite, but the espresso was given up on long ago. That doesn’t keep us for ordering it occasionally (for the caffeine kick), but it always tastes of acerbic blueberries, rather than the elusive, dense, haunting pungent holy grail of which we seek.

Comfort – seating can be problematic at peak times, simply because all of the tables are always taken with by Millennials furiously pecking away, pretending to be doing something important. Wait a few minutes though, and something always opens up.

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Comestibles – very limited, especially compared to PublicUs. No great pastries, a few lunch items (sandwiches and such), good soups made in-house, but that’s about it. Wonderful egg sandwich though (above).

Crew as we said above, not something we can be completely objective about. Let’s just say they’re mostly female and work their tails off at peak times. There may be some dudes who also work here, and we believe the owner is also a person of the male persuasion, but to be honest, we’ve never really noticed.

Crowd – eclectic to say the least. A mixture of business types, tourists, lawyers, smelly hippies, tatted-up hipsters, hairdressers, chefs and crowd-following Yelpers. Also big with the alphabet soup sexuality crowd.

MOTHERSHIP COFFEE
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Mothership Coffee is an offshoot of the teeny tiny operation in Henderson that became a coffee nerd favorite a few years ago. It is as renowned for its small selection of exquisite pastries as it is for its Guatemalan Feminino.

Coffee – “Can I get a single espresso?”

“We only pour doubles.”

“Can I get it made with more water –  what the Italians call lungo?”

“We only pour doubles.”

“Okaaaaay….”

Moving on: gorgeous, nutty, beautifully balanced cappuccino. The espresso was beautiful one time, thin and acrid the second, undrinkable the third. A younger, Millennial cousin of ours (who is a major coffee hound) claims that what we call sour is actually the fruitiness of African beans coming through, as opposed to the milder, less acidic nature of South American coffee. What we call impermissibly sour, he refers to as too sweet. We love the kid, but think he has rocks in his head….or a gueule de bois (wooden mouth). Be that as it may, despite this worthwhile newcomer, a good espresso remains harder to find downtown than a hooker with teeth.

Comfort – open and airy. Kind of a pain in the neck to get to, located as it is in the back of the Ferguson’s Motel complex (at what was once the bottom of its swimming pool, see above), but very nicely appointed inside. Not a lot of seating, although you can also sit on the terraced lawn outside. Because of the location, you won’t be fighting many crowds (like Vesta and PublicUs) but you will be surrounded by self-serious Millennials furiously attached to their laptops.

Image(You’ll love getting sconed at Mothership)

Comestibles – Mothership is known for their pastries (above) and all are top notch. A limited selection of savories and sandwiches, which are invariably fresh and well-crafted. More of a place for a light snack than a full meal. If forced to bestow awards, we’d give the sweet pastries here a slight nod over PublicUs, while the latter wins the savory battle by a landslide.

Crew – Nice, but as green as an Arabica bean.

Crowd – lots of Tony Hsieh acolytes and other youngsters who keep their heads buried in their laptops for hours on end. In many ways this joint feels like a clubhouse for the Downtown Project crowd….which is probably the whole idea.

WRITER’S BLOCK COFFEE SHOP

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Rock and roll journalism was once described as people who can’t talk being interviewed by people who can’t write for people who can’t read. In this same vein, putting an erudite, interesting bookstore (Writer’s Block) in downtown Las Vegas is the clueless trying to sell the thoughtful to the thoughtless. The good news is even if the Paris Review and LBGTQWXYZ Quarterly are not your cup of tea, the coffee and pastries will capture your (short) attention span.

Coffee – they use Mothership’s beans here to create the mildest brews of the bunch. This is a compliment to the cappuccino, as it reaches peak coffee perfection with its balance of sweetness, nuttiness, bitterness and acidity. Not a lot of folderol going on with the foam, but the proportions are just right. The espresso, though, is gawdawful — weak, bland, thin, and as sour as a parson’s smile.

Comfort – nothing more than a few tables, a counter and some high-tops located in the entrance foyer. The outdoor seating on the patio is a real plus. You’re also inside a groovy bookstore, which is also a real plus. Parking is a breeze and free along Bonneville.

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Comestibles – extremely limited. Almond croissants (above), cookies, a cinnamon roll and a couple of other items provided by Sonia El-Awal at Rooster Boy Café.  The good news is they are wonderful. The bad news is they run out early.

Crew – also limited, as the place is tiny. One of our favorite barista/bartenders Michelle, moved over here from Velveteen Rabbit/Vesta, making us feel right at home. I’m secretly in love with her too (Jeebus, Curtas, what’s with you!?), so that means this place is now on our steady rotation.

Crowd – here ya go:

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As this post grinds to a halt, and comes to its bitter end, we almost afforgato to tell you something. So, let us not procaffeinate any further, and espresso some final thoughts.

Unbeanknownst to Las Vegas, a hot beverage revolution has been going on around the world for some time now. It’s a brewtiful thing to watch Vegas finally perk up and smell the…

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…. because we couldn’t au lait for it any longer. Now we’re as frappé as can be, and we’re going to cup up, plunge in, and milk this trend for all its worth. We hope you do too.

THE END