I am a lover of beef, but I believe it does great harm to my wit. – Shakespeare

Once called the Spanish Steps, a steakhouse has been located on this corner of the sprawling Caesars casino as long as ELV can remember. For some reason (mainly having to do with his abhorrence of mediocrity), he had always avoided eating here.

But then he started hearing (first from uber-pr guy Ken Langdon, then from others), that this in-house operation was actually dry-aging its beef on the premises. “Really?” he thought to himself. “Actually hanging sides of beef and steaks in a refrigerated locker for weeks to allow natural evaporation and enzymes to work their magic on the meat, turning it from flabby steer muscle, into funky fabulousness?”

When these questions were confirmed in the affirmative, and all doubts quelled, he was in faster than you can say postmortem myofibrils proteolysis.

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