DAL TORO RISTORANTE & Lamborghini Store(?)

We know what you’re thinking: Nothing screams “economic downturn” like buying a Lamborghini with your linguine.* This may not be possible in whatever burg you hail from, but thankfully, Las Vegas is here to provide these essentials for the rest of us.

Dal Toro Ristorante, the newest offering in the Palazzo, sports “Sexy sports cars and traditional Italian food” and enough high-toned design on each of its three levels to keep Dolce and Gabbana happy. And if 245k (for the aforementioned Lamborghini Gallardo) just isn’t enough carbon footprint for you, there’s a $1,800,000 Bugatti on the premises – for Discover Card holders just itching to spend that government stimulus check.

A level above those sports cars is a mega-cool bar, and some comfortable outdoor seating, and some highly serviceable northern Italian food. The pizzas are reliably thin-crusted and made with good ingredients, and the scampi alla Paprika has some real kick to it. Best of all, the lasagna della Nonna is the real deal; al dente sheets of pasta covering a melange of sausage, ragu, hard boiled eggs, proscuitto cotto, mozzarella and pecorino cheese. The menu says the recipe comes from Chef Fiorenzo Trunzo’s grandmother (“nonna”) and we believe it.

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*The management doesn’t advertise these things (for fear of creating a panic), but if you pay cash for the car, the linguine’s free!

DAL TORO RISTORANTE and Lamborghini Store

In the Palazzo

3325 Las Vegas Blvd. South #200

Las Vegas, NV 89109

702.437.9800

A Gentlemen’s Guide To Dining Etiquette

If you don’t think bad manners and worse dressing are the rule rather than the exception in restaurants these days, then you haven’t been paying attention. So I thought a refresher course in dining do’s and dont’s might be in order for all of you gents (and ladies) who think un-tucked shirttails, baseball caps, visible anal floss and appetizingly demure tramp stamps are acceptable for the world to see in a nice restaurant.

Ladies of course, are also guilty of dressing like they’ve never seen a mirror, and, even when they’re lookin’ might fine, of letting boyfriends and husbands look like slobs when they go out to eat.

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Eating New York…and Deconstructing Dufresne

Yes food fans, this entry finds me eating my way through the Big Apple. And last weekend I was eating my way through Vancouver – a town that’s as serious about food as any I’ve ever come across – but more on British Columbia later.

For now, I thought I’d give you a taste of the effort and stress and work that yours truly goes through to keep up his street cred as the world’s greatest restaurant critic.*

My New York summer day began late with lunch at La Goulue (746 Madison Ave., 212.988.8169). We were feeling fashionable – decked out as we were in a fetching ensemble of faded Chuck Taylor’s, RL jeans, and a Brooks Brothers seersucker jacket – so we ducked into the most fashionable restaurant we know on the Upper East Side. There we tucked into a superb steak tartare with equally good frites and a demi-bouteille of Gilbert Picque Ses et Filles Chablis.

All seemed right with the world as we strolled down Fifth Avenue (working up a sweat in the process in the 88% humidity and 85 degree heat), and found an outside table at Brasserie Ruhlmann (45 Rockefeller Center, 212.974.2020, www.brasserieruhlman.com) for yet another glass of Premier Cru Chablis (Robert Vocoret ’06) before heading to a business appointment. This being New York, showing up for a meeting with a decent Bourgogne blanc on your breath is quite acceptable.**

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