The List – January 2020

Image(Happy New Year!)

For years I’ve maintained that to do this job correctly, you have to be a little touched, a lot obsessive, and slightly manic about where you eat.

It’s also like being a porn star: something that sounds like a good idea (to dudes anyway) until you have to do it daily, on command.

And like being a porn star, most guys think they could do it, but they can’t.

Let’s go through my month (a very light one by my standards) and see if you could keep up, eating-wise. Keep in mind these dishes are just the highlights — every meal contained much more to eat, some things of which I nibbled at, other parts I devoured wholesale.

It started with a smiley face on a croque Madame on January 1st at Marche Bacchus (top of page).

Then, in rapid succession, over the course of the month, we devoured…

Esther’s Kitchen

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We grow weary of telling you how great Esther’s is….but we will never get tired of James Trees’ cacio e pepe (above).

DE Thai Kitchen

Image(Kanom jeen namya pu AKA fish curry with noodles)

Not to take anything away from our wealth of Thai options downtown, but the food at the teeny tiny DE Thai Kitchen is the best of the bunch. When the fish-crab curry (above) is on the menu, get it.

Kaiseki Yuzu

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Sure the kaiseki menu is expensive (starting at $100/pp), but the small bites/sake bar up front (above) is quite the deal for food this refined, and a good introduction to Japanese food the way it tastes in Japan.

New York Bagel and Bakery

No better bagels in our humble burg.

ShangHai Taste

Image(Through these doors lie dumpling delights)

Screw those over-hyped Chinese chains (Tim Ho Wan, Din Tai Fung), Jimmy Li’s xiao long bao are the bomb and made with love, not on an assembly line.

Serrano’s Mexican Food

Image(This salsa lit me up from my head tomatoes)

There is nothing remarkable about Serrano’s.…except the service and the spot-on Mexican food. It’s also one of the spiffiest holes-in-the-walls you will encounter, with not a grimy corner in site. A real hidden gem in an unlikely location.

Sage

Image(Egg-cellent caviar; unbliniably good pancakes)

We pop into Sage every other year just to make sure it hasn’t lost its fastball. It hasn’t lost its fastball. In fact it may be throwing more heat than ever. New chef Thomas Griese is seeing to that.

Hiroyoshi

Image(I’m urchin you to try this uni)

Every time I eat at Hiroyoshi, I kick myself for not eating here more often. Simply marvelous sushi at more than reasonable prices for what you get. The uni 3-ways will have you dropping your chopsticks in appreciation.

Estiatorio Milos

Image(These prawns give great head)

These Carabineros deep water prawns may be $30 a piece, but sucking sherry out of one of their detached craniums is the best cephalothorax you can get on the Strip.

Moon Palace

Image(This Double is damn Tasty)

Everyone knows David Chang hates me. And I’m no fan of his warmed over, quasi-Korean concepts at Momofuku, either. But I’m willing to give his new joints a fair shot, and Moon Palace (located across the hall from the spanking new Majordomo), is a mini-burger empire whose time has come. Delicious from the first bite, and probably the apotheosis of the American slider.

Eiffel Tower Restaurant

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Sometimes, we go visit an old favorite hoping for the best but expecting less. Despite the great view and good service, this place is become way too touristy for any serious gastronome. The lunch menu was mainly sandwiches; the torchon of foie gras wasn’t as finely-tuned as it should have been, and the burger not worth the pain-in-the-ass trek it takes to get there from the parking lot. Methinks me and The Food Gal® have eaten our last meal here.

18bin

Image(Well kiss my biscuits)

Fingers are crossed that Louisiana native Jen Landry (above) can put this place on the culinary map. The menu seems promising, and the gal has a way with biscuits. If only the physical layout of the joint weren’t so shitty.

Graffiti Bao

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We liked Graffiti Bao, but didn’t love it enough to ever again travel to the far southwest to eat its bread-y, doughy dumplings. It didn’t help that each of the fillings (Szechuan beef, kung pao chicken and barbecue pork were almost indistinguishable in taste. Our Chinese-Korean dining companion was also put off by the burrata offering on the menu (with garlic-chili sauce and scallion pancake!) — a combination that makes as much sense as kimchi on a pizza. “White people trying too hard to be hip Asians,” she sniffed. And she’s probably right.

The Goodwich

Image(Move over Babe Ruth…and pastrami on rye)

The Patty (pictured above) deserves to be in the Sandwich Hall of Fame. It takes a while to melt all of that gooey cheese into the chopped beef, but the wait is always worth it.

Suzuya Patisserie & Cafe

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On South Buffalo,  a mini-micro-climate of hip Asian-fusion eats has sprung to life, with Suzuya, Graffiti Bao and Fukuburger all located within a stone’s throw of each other. Each space (like its surrounding shopping center) is spanking new, with all the polished, antiseptic charm of a mall food court. This seems to bother the patrons not at all, as from the get-go, Suzuya has been packed with customers both Asian and non-, in numbers that would’ve overwhelmed its original cracker-box location, a few miles west. Suzuya’s pastries are very French, but also a la Française as filtered through Japanese sensibilities, meaning: more delicate and less sweet. From the crowds we’ve observed, there seems to be a pent-up demand for this Sino-Franco fusion, as there should be.

Soyo Korean Barstaurant

Image(Who knew everything but the kitchen sink could be so tasty?)

Korean food baffles me. It’s intense, over-the-top, ingredient-heavy, starchy, spicy, gut-busting and soul-warming all in one. Korean food after a Japanese meal is like a NFL team lining up next to the Bolshoi Ballet. I love it but I don’t claim to understand it. If you want to do both, Soyo is a good place to start.

PublicUs

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I love croissants like a bear loves honey. Like a Pelosi loves impeachments; like a Trump loves beauty pageants. The ones at PublicUs might be the best in town. If not, they’re certainly in the top three.

Yum Cha

Image(Shrimply mouth-watering)

Our new go-to for dim sum. Not in Chinatown, but a real find on W. Tropicana with great prices, an open kitchen, a picture menu (great for dim sum beginners) and very attentive service.

Cornish Pasty Co.

(Belly bombs away!)

If you look up “stick to your ribs” in a dictionary, you’ll see a picture of a Cornish pasty.

El Dorado Cantina

That Ass Though Jennifer Lopez GIF - ThatAssThough JenniferLopez Shakira GIFs(Some buns get a rise out of us)

We spent $83 on Mexican food here. For 3 tacos, and bowl of soup, and appetizer and a beer. For eighty-three bucks I want mariachi music. Or Shakira shaking her ass in my face.  Never again.

Cipriani

Image(Baked, Béchamel’d, and beautiful)

I eat at Cipriani so often they ought to name a booth after me. I could eat its baked tagliolini with ham (above) every day of the week and never get tired of it. Like everything here, it is stunningly simple Italian food served by real pros who never miss a beat.  If you want to see what a great Italian ristorante looks like, this is the place. But don’t say I didn’t warn you about the gelato. You’ll be hooked from the first bite.

That’s 21 restaurants in 31 days — barely breaking a sweat by my standards.

Remember, I’m plowing all this ground so you don’t have to (kind of like a porn star). My continuing mission is to guide you to only the best of the best, so you will know where best to spend your dining out dollars.

We at Being John Curtas hope these posts are helpful to achieve these goals. But if any of this causes you menu envy, try to remember this German word to help you over your green-eyed hunger hurdles:

Futterneid is a compound noun which is made up of the words ‘food’ and ‘jealousy’. The German word ‘Futter’ translates as ‘animal feed’ or ‘fodder’, but is also used colloquially to describe human food. Futterneid translates into English literally  as ‘food jealousy’, but the more idiomatic ‘food envy’ is a better translation.

The word describes the highly relatable feeling when you simply order food at a restaurant wrong, and then have to suffer through the rest of the meal watching someone else eating something that looks and smells much better than what you have.

Examples:

Er war gestern abend wegen des Futterneids so mürrisch.

He was so grumpy yesterday evening because he was envious of the food.

Danke schoen to @thelocalGermany for giving us a word that is now an essential part of our eating vocabulary.

Prost!

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Where I’ll Dine in 2018 – Part Two

ELV note: Rather than attempt a comprehensive look at Las Vegas restaurants (for that, you’ll have to buy my  book) we at ELV thought it better to let you know where you’re likely to find us dining in the coming months. As we said in our last post, we are done exploring every nook and cranny of the local food scene. We’re not going to ignore the shiny and the new, but more likely you’ll find us patronizing the well-worn and comfortable.  And nothing fits our comfort zone more these days than Chinatown.

The Food Gal® once asked me what I would miss most about Las Vegas were we to move to another town. The things I would miss most about Vegas, would be, in order:

  • The weather
  • My house
  • My swimming pool in summer
  • My barbecue/smoker
  • Chinatown
  • Having half a dozen great French restaurants within 15 minutes of my front door
  • Ditto: a dozen great steakhouses
  • Mexicans
  • Asians

Why the last two? Because they provide more flavor to our humble burg than all the gueros and gaijin combined.

Las Vegas’s Mexicans restaurants don’t compare with SoCal, Phoenix, Tucson and Albuquerque, but all it takes is a quick trip to any Mexicali eatery in Atlanta or St. Louis to see how good we’ve got it.

And when it comes to Asian food, there are very few cities in America that compare with the offerings up and down Spring Mountain Road.

As with Mexican food, I can hear the aficionados braying: “Nothing you have compares with the San Gabriel Valley, or Garden Grove, or Richmond (outside of Vancouver) Canada!”

True dat, but for a town our size, the quality and variety of our Thai, Chinese, Japanese, Vietnamese and Korean restaurants is pretty darn impressive, and beats anything Miami, Chicago, Minneapolis, Denver or Philadelphia can throw at you.

Best of all, our Chinatown (which really should be called Asiatown) is mostly compressed into one, three mile stretch of road. (As tasty as it is, traipsing all over Alhambra, San Gabriel and the Valley Boulevard Corridor can be a slog for all but the most intrepid gastronaut.)

Chinatown really rings our chimes, again and again. It’s the one food address in town that we never tire of exploring. When Thai tedium ensues, there’s always some copious Korean. Should we be sated by sushi, there’s always some restorative ramen at hand. Upscale Vietnamese? Verily, it is so. Interesting izakaya? Indubitably.

Plus, all of this bounty seems to be increasing. As we type these words, a huge condominium complex is under construction near Valley View Boulevard, along with a giant new shopping mall (dubbed “Shanghai Plaza”) a half mile up the street.

Something tells us the quantity and quality of Chinatown eats is about to grow exponentially. In the meantime, here’s where we’ll frequenting in the coming year:

CHINATOWN

(We have purposely included a few non-Chinatown addresses here, but lumped them in this section in the interest of pan-Pacific consistency.)

Noodles, Noodles, Noodles

(“Screaming For Vengeance” at Ramen Sora)

No one does cheap eats better than Asians.  Ten years ago there was nary a noodle to be found in Chinatown that wasn’t in a pot of Vietnamese pho. Now, nourishing noodle nibbling necessitates numerous navigations. Put another way, the number of choices is notable. And without a whole lot of negotiating, you can become a noodle-noshing nerd.

For ramen, we prefer an old reliable — Ramen Sora — along with an interesting upstart: Ramen Hashi, a mile or so up the road. Ramen Sora satisfies our cravings for miso-based noodles (often with everything but the kitchen sink thrown on top), while Ramen Hashi has blown us away recently with its lighter, shio (salt) and shoyu (soy) based chicken broths. We have nothing against Monta, and give it all the props in the world for pioneering our ramen revolution, but Hashi and Sora are just as good, and never quite as crowded.

For unctuous udon,  Marugame Monzo fills the bill with its thick, chewy strands of cotton-white udon (and killer karaage). And for the best of Szechuan, nothing beats Mian Taste (or Mian Sichuan Noodle, depending on how literal you want to be) and the fiery, lip numbing intensity of the Szechuan peppercorns that infuse each dish.

If it’s all-around noodle-liciouness you seek,nothing beats the hand-pulled beauties at Shang Artisan Noodle….or its pocket beef pancake:

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Sushi Fever

Life is too short to eat cheap fish. It sounds elitist (and it is!) but you should have to pay through the nose for your seafood. Nasty, shit-fed, farm raised fish doesn’t do anyone any good, and ocean trawling for cheap tuna is destroying our eco-systems.

My solution: Ban cheap fish altogether and make people shell out a car payment for their sushi. It’s going to come to this eventually, so we might as well start now.

If you want cheap protein, eat a chicken.

If you want wonderful seafood treated right, try this on for size:

(Seared mackerel at Yuzu)

If you want the best sushi in town, go to Yui Edomae Sushi. Or Kabuto. If you want the best sushi in the suburbs go to Kaiseki Yuzu or Hiroyoshi. I don’t eat sushi anywhere else in this town and neither should you.

Why do I have to keep telling you these things?

More Meals of the Rising Sun

The Japanese revolution began in January, 2008 with the opening of Raku. We hear an expansion is planned and we hope that means it will be easier to get into. (Don’t bet on it; it’s still one tough ticket.) Raku’s excellence and popularity shows no signs of abating, as it has continues to elevate our dining scene, and set a standard for all of Spring Mountain Road to emulate.  In the ten years hence, it has begat such tasty options as Japanese Curry Zen and Raku Sweets. Curry Zen is a must for lovers of Japanese curry. Its spinach curry rice shows up at my house at least once a month (the Food Ga®  is a big fan of their takeout), and it might be the healthiest cheap eats in Vegas. Raku Sweets remains a marvel. We can never get in for dessert (always a wait) but weekend lunch is definitely on the horizon.

Very Vietnamese

Gawd I wish I could parse the fine differences between this pho parlor and that pho parlor. They all have the same menu and they’re all alike to this haolie. All I know is this: When I get a hankerin’ for pho or spring rolls downtown, I head straight to Le Pho. When I want more interesting, out-of-the-box Vietnamese, I head straight to District One. I really don’t give a shit about any other Vietnamese restaurant in town, because I’ve been to ’em all, and they all taste the same.

Korean ‘Cue Quest

Last year we did a Korean ‘cue quest. This year we’ve decided to hang out at 8 Oz Korean Steakhouse.

When the mood for more homey Korean fare hits, you’ll find us at Mother’s Korean Grill or Kkulmat Korean Kitchen. 

We don’t give a flying frijole that Kkulmat has only 2 TripAdvisor reviews. It’s really really good, and the people are really really nice. At Mother’s, they barely seem to tolerate round-eyes, but the banchan and dolsot bibimbap make up for the cursory service.

That is all.

Don’t Leave Your Chinese To Chance

(Let Jimmy Li slip you the tongue at Niu-Gu)

Chinese restaurants still outnumber all others on Spring Mountain, and mediocre Chinese restaurants are more the rule than the exception.  The Chinatown Plaza pictured at the top of the page – the place that started our Asian  revolution in 1995 – is chock full of mediocrity, and every strip mall seems to have at least one forgettable boba tea or Taiwanese street food joint. But there is fascinating food to be found. You just have to be smart, read this blog, follow me on Instagram, and buy my book. (That’s two shameless plugs in one post if you’re counting.)

For dim sum, and many other classic Chinese favorites, head straight to Ping Pang Pong. For sophisticated Mandarin-worthy fare at a fraction of what you’ll pay on the Strip, nobody beats what Jimmy Li cooks up every night at the unassuming Niu-Gu Noodle House. (P.s. the tea service is spectacular as well.)

Chengdu Taste is where we head when we’ve got a hankerin’ for dan dan mian, green sauce chicken, or boiled fish in chili sauce. It is a restaurant that brooks no compromise and lays on the tongue-numbing heat the way they do in southwestern China. J & J Szechuan is older, less flashy, and not as of-the-moment as chef Tony Xu’s Alhambra offshoot — but it’s almost as good, even cheaper, and usually easier to get into.

Thai One On

Image may contain: food(Our usual at Ocha Thai)

We group our Thai restaurants into 3 categories:

1) Rustic and authentic

2) Upscale and authentic

3) Everyone else

Gallery(Nam-Prik-Ong – red chili dip at Lotus of Siam)

When it comes to rustic and authentic, nothing beats what the adorable little ladies of Ocha Thai are turning out. A little more polished are the operations at Weera Thai (which features quite a few Laotian dishes) and the incendiary stylings of Chuchote Thai. If you want to know what it feels like to have a flame thrower stuck up your fundament, ask for anything “Bangkok hot” at any of them, and then hold on for dear life the next morning.

Thai comes in more sophisticated form (and with better wines) at Chada Street and Chada Thai as well as at that old reliable: Lotus of Siam. We’ve twice tried to get into Lotus at their new location on West Flamingo, and have been thwarted by long lines every time. At this rate, we may have to wait for their old location to reopen for our yearly fix of Koong Char Num Pla (raw shrimp) and Nam Kao Tod (crispy rice), or to get another chance to waltz around America’s best German Riesling list.

Sweets Release

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What do we always say: When you want a good dessert in an Asian restaurant, go to a French one.

That said, there’s no denying the gorgeousness of Bank Atcharawan’s milkshakes (above) at The Patio Desserts and Drinks, or his Thai toast:

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….or just about any other thing he’s serving to satiate your sweet (or tea) tooth.

Other than that, and the gorgeous creations of Mio-san at Raku Sweets:

…there’s not a whole lot we can recommend from our Asian brethren in the dessert department.

Boba tea is a bad joke (it all comes from over-sugared mixes), Korean pastries are pale, spongy copies of French ones, and the wallpaper paste that the Japanese and Chinese make out of red beans might appeal to them, but we find its best usage is holding down roof tiles. And those slushies that some upscale Thai, Vietnamese and Chinese joints throw at you at the end of the meal are just odd, chunky imitations of something the Greeks perfected 2,500 years ago.

Face it: Asians don’t get sugar. Not like the French do. Or the Italians. Or the Germans. They don’t really have a sweet tooth. But we don’t hold that against them. In fact, it’s one of the many reasons we crawl up and down Spring Mountain Road every week — we always know that wherever we chow down on this most chow-downable of streets, we’ll save ourselves a thousand calories by skipping dessert every time.

In Part 3 of Where I’ll Dine in 2018 we will explore what’s left of Strip dining that still gets us excited. In the meantime, we’ll leave you with some thoughtful words from George Orwell about critical writing and the abandonment of standards. (He was writing about book critics, but the regression to the mean (and mediocrity) holds true for restaurants and restaurant writing as well.):

It is almost impossible to mention restaurants in bulk without grossly overpraising the great majority of them. Until one has some kind of professional relationship with restaurants, one does not discover how bad the majority of them are. In much more than nine cases out of ten the only objectively truthful criticism would be “This restaurant is worthless”, while the truth about the reviewer’s own reaction would probably be “This restaurant does not interest me in any way, and I would not write about it unless I were paid to.” But the public will not pay to read that kind of thing. Why should they? They want some kind of guide to the restaurants they are asked to visit, and they want some kind of evaluation. But as soon as values are mentioned, standards collapse. – with apologies to George Orwell

 

 

 

I’m Happy for David Chang

http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1WXXUsYFWsg/TjAExtMKGGI/AAAAAAAADPo/bD2Fy0Josts/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-07-27+at+8.25.02+AM.png(Is he cool or what?)

I’m happy for David Chang.

Happy that that the teeny tiny Momofuku Noodle Bar, that I first ate at in 2006, has spawned an Asian-American empire that now stretches from Soho to Sydney.

I’m ecstatic that he can now open restaurants the world over, trusting his food to a rotating cadre of young cooks; chefs who weren’t even in high school when Chang made his fame serving up-scaled bao buns on eight toadstools to the trend-loving New York food media.

I’m glad Chang took the ho-hum bun from so-so street food into a foodie favorite — mainly by upgrading the pork and not steaming the shit out of it like most Korean restaurants do.

And who doesn’t love the fact that he’s elevated dishes like bo ssäm and Korean fried chicken into cult-like status, and now has the luxury (and pretension) of operating his very own, Ferran Adrià-like, (not-so-secret) secret test kitchen?

I’m elated that he can parade his food out to compliant critics like Mitchell Davis, and sit there while they swoon over every bite. After all, every Pollock needs his Clement Greenberg; every Scorcese his Pauline Kael.

I’m overjoyed that David Chang can pretend to write magazine articles for star-fornicating magazines, because it gives him eminent foodie street cred to be a published author, along with his many other duties and talents.

I’m amused that he can ironically expound on the attributes of shitty beer, and has the time to run a media empire built upon “we’re cooler than you” food articles, filled with tales of him hangin’ with other “bad ass” media mogul chefs. (Isn’t it wonderful how, as soon as a chef gets “hot” or mega-successful, they immediately turn into a highly literate writer, capable of turning phrase after phrase with wit, precision, and poignancy, not to mention proper syntax, grammar, and diction? Like most ardent foodies, I’m exultant when this happens!)

And it gruntles me that Chang (and Christina Tosi, his pastry chef) have made time-worn standards like butter cake, crazy milkshakes and above-average cookies “a thing,” mainly by catching the wave of young Millennial’s FOMO (fear of missing out), at the dawn of the Facebook, Twitter and Instagram age.

It also pleases me no end that a championship golfer (TRUE!) of Chang’s caliber, who describes himself as “the worst cook in every kitchen I ever worked in” has now found peace and happiness (and no small fortune) by tweaking the humblest, saltiest and densest of Asian cuisines into gringo-friendly formulas that no other Korean-American cook ever thought of.

We’re beside ourselves over his cult-like status among foodies; and his bro-tastic cred among other uber-cool dudes like Eric Ripert, Tom Colicchio and Wylie Dufresne. (For a terrible line cook, that’s really saying something.)

I’m overjoyed when he whispers (sotto voce) to Food & Wine magazine, “I don’t want Mario (Carbone) to get mad at me, but I think the Carbone in Vegas is better than Carbone in New York.” How cool is it that that he could be so ironic, so “inside baseball,” such a name dropper, and such a humble braggart AT THE SAME TIME, IN ONE QUOTE! (Shhh, but please don’t tell him or Mario Carbone I said this.)

And who among us isn’t jubilant over his arrival in Sin City, where he can expand his empire of small, personal restaurants into a  263 seat behemoth. I mean, how bro-tastic is that, dude?

All of these things make me happy for David Chang.

But eventually you have to get to his food, and aye, there’s the rub.

Or rather, there’s the umami.

Because, you see, David Chang is overtly enamored of umami.

Obsessed with it, even.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m usually on cloud nine about umami. But eating Chang’s one-dimensional food will quickly kill any exaltation you usually feel about this fifth taste.

And since murdering your taste buds’ appreciation for any semblance of subtlety is what Momofuku’s food is about, let’s consider the evidence, shall we?

Exhibit 1: Krappy Kaarage

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See the one on the left? It costs $5.50 at Udon Monzo on Spring Mountain Road. It was crispy and just-fried and  juicy and everything kaarage is supposed to be. The one on the right came from David “The King of Creative Korean” Chang’s kitchen at Momofuku in The Cosmopolitan Hotel and Casino (the restaurant we’re reviewing here if you’ve lost track). It costs $14 for two buns of dry, stringy, soggy chicken. Grade: C-. Grade when compared to the better stuff you can get up and down Spring Mountain Road: F.

Exhibit 2: Pork Meatballs with Black Eyed Peas and Benton’s Bacon

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Here’s where Chang starts showing his true colors, and by “true colors” I mean obliterating the taste of everything by drowning it in a tsunami of umami. What appears at your table are two pork meatballs for $18. What you taste is a bunch of smoky, black eyed pea mush smothering whatever the pork is trying to do inside those orbs. Grade C-.

Exhibit 3: Country Ham with Red Eye Mayo

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David Chang loves country ham. He also loves bacon. And smoked pork in all its forms. Why does he love them? Because they’re an easy (some would say a shortcut) way to add umami depth to anything they touch.

And by “add umami depth” I mean massacre the taste of anything and everything else on the plate.

At least with this dish, you get honesty (and your money’s worth – $26) by having the cooks shave the thing on a plate for you. The first time they do it (on the left) it’s a mess, but the next time (on the right) it’s properly sliced and appetizingly presented. The red-eye mayo tastes like light brown, store bought mayonnaise at meal #1, but by meal #3 they’ve gotten their act together and the coffee flavor comes through in the emulsion. (For the uninitiated, red eye gravy is simply liquid coffee added to the hot fat drippings of a fried country ham steak and then poured over the meat.) Nothing is being cooked here, but the ham is top notch, and this would be a great appetizer to share (along the lines of Italian prosciutto) if the rest of the meal gave you any respite from Chang’s non-stop umami overload. Grade: A-.

Exhibit 4: Momofuku Oysters

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Here, Chang starts to reveal his innermost inadequacies. And by “innermost inadequacies” I mean a complete indifference to the flavor integrity of any ingredient other than smoke and the piling on of pork. These strike me as something that probably took the New York trendsetters by storm a decade ago. Kimchi on oysters? How novel. With better than average bacon? You bet! And on the backs of such mangled mollusks was a food empire born. Grade: C.

Exhibit 5: Pork Ramen

This is where David Chang really hits his stride. And by “hits his stride” I mean demolishes all subtlety in favor of loads and loads of smoke. The food at Momofuku is so damn smoky it ought to be sponsored by Marlboro. Here is another signature creation that’s about as refined as a tae kwon do punch to the solar plexus. Pile on the shredded, smoky pork, serve it in a smoky broth, add smoked kombu here and no doubt something else smoky there and pretty soon you feel like you’ve just swallowed a lit cigarette. There’s ramen just as good up and down Spring Mountain Road for a lot less than $18. But none of it as smoky. Grade: C+. If you love loads of  overstated smoked pork in your ramen: B+.

Exhibit 6: Spicy Sichuan Rice Cakes

No one loves Szechuan food more than yours truly. These cakes (really thick, stubby, chewy noodles) were as good as you’ll get this side of Soyo Barstaurant on South Rainbow. At Soyo they’re half the price, but  not smothered in pork sausage — another recurring theme of Chang’s as we’ll see below. For authenticity, crispiness, chewiness and overall eye and palate appeal they get a winning grade. For more of Chang’s same old same old, fatty-salty, umami-drenched flavor profile, they get a small deduction. Grade: A-.

Exhibit 7: Chilled Spicy Noodles

Yep, more noodles, this time cold, green, and spicy. Really spicy. No holds barred spicy. The kind you’d get in a real Korean restaurant where no one asks you how spicy you want them. The problem is, of course, that you can’t see them. Why can’t you see them? Because they’re buried under a mountain of pork sausage. And cashews. Pork sausage and cashews being the belt and suspenders of the umami-overload world. Still, a solid effort that taste just as good as they did when I had them at Momofuku Ssäm Bar (with Mitchell Davis of all people) seven years ago. Grade: A.

Exhibit 8: Spicy Cod Hot Pot

One of the prettiest dishes in the Chang lexicon. (David Chang generally does pretty about as well as Vin Diesel does Shakespeare.) It’s the lightest thing on the menu, and the fish is of good quality and not boiled to oblivion like you get in many an Asian hot pot. If it was a stand alone dish there would be little to complain about. The problem is you get the same chili/salt/umami profile here as you do with every other dish in the Chang oeuvre. The question has to be asked: Has he never eaten in a Japanese restaurant? Is he unacquainted with refined French? Why is he wedded to hitting you over the head with the same salt and spice with every recipe? Still, if you need a let up from all the smoke, this is the way to go. Grade: A.

Exhibit 9: Chicken

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Chicken is where the Chang oeuvre most reveals itself. And by “reveals itself” I mean bludgeon you with his incessant umami aura. The rotisserie bird (a portion of which look deep-fried)  is competently done, if a bit dry, but nothing that El Pollo Loco doesn’t do equally well. It’s salvaged a bit by a ginger-scallion garnish (the closest you’ll ever get to sharpness on a Chang menu), and subtracted from by deep-fried bones that are more gimmick than substance. Chang has been quoted as saying, “I wanted to strip away as much excess flavoring as possible….” which makes absolutely no sense but sounds really cool when he says it. His Smothered Katsu Chicken is smothered all right — with so much sauce that the poultry is superfluous. To be fair, the shiitake gravy was damn tasty, even if it brought more of the same, flat flavor palette to the table. And if Chang ever served the lifeless, “fresh” kimchi under the roasted chicken to his grandmother, he’d be laughed out of the house. A Midwesterner expecting so-so slaw would probably applaud. Grade: C+ for the roasted chicken that’s not nearly as good as it thinks it is, and B+ for its crispy, gravy-laden cousin.

Exhibit 10: Vegetables

Speaking of vegetables, they’re probably the best thing on the menu, even though the black-eyed peas are more sweet than savory (but plenty smoked!), and the long beans more sour than sweet. The pickle plate is fantastic, if expensive ($15), but the hacked up cucumber ($7) a waste of time and money. The Brussels sprouts were, of course, fried, and, of course, doused with some salty/savory/shoyu/miso/kombu concoction that Chang can’t keep from incorporating into everything he touches. Grade: A-.

So there you have it. No nuance. No balance. No piquancy. No acidity either. Plus a complete absence of refinement. (The bibimbap at your local Korean bbq joint is a model of Grant Achatz artistry next to these plates.) Sweetness is in short supply too. Which might explain the child-like, overly-sugared desserts that Tosi throws at you from Milk Bar next door.

Like I said, though, I’m happy for David Chang. I do not begrudge him his success. He took an obscure Asian cuisine and made it palatable for Millennials. For ten years they’ve been beating a path to his door, and from day one in The Cosmo, they’ve been lining up to get a seat. This food was not as much created by Chang as it was tailored to capture the attention of the flannel shirt and man-bun crowd — a youthful, insecure, and finicky bunch who were notoriously resistant to real Korean cuisine (“What is that?” “I like to know what I’m eating.” “Do they use MSG?”) — by giving them something cheap and good to eat. As with ramen, beer and tacos, everyone could become an expert in this food with relatively little effort, or cash.

And seemingly everyone has. People love it, even if they don’t understand that the range of flavors runs the gamut from A to B. There are no peaks and valleys here, just a slog through an umami swamp. The art of the meal never occurred to Chang when he was making his name with his noodle bar, and it won’t occur to you when you’re eating here. A Korean-American friend once told me, “everyone eats everything at once in a Korean restaurant.” That was an amusing but sensible explanation. What he didn’t say (because it’s not true with real Korean food) was that everything always ends up tasting the same.

Our three meals here averaged around $140 for two with a couple of glasses of wine. Some of the dishes were comped, i.e., sent out gratis from the kitchen. There is the obligatory fancy cocktail list and the usual obscenely-priced wine list, and a shockingly sparse sake and sochu selection. Shocking because they (along with beer) make the best matches with this food. Most wines would be annihilated by it, although the Baumard Chenin Blanc ($65) held up well to some of the less smoky items.

MOMOFUKU LAS VEGAS

The Cosmopolitan Hotel and Casino

702.698.2663

https://www.cosmopolitanlasvegas.com/restaurants/momofuku