I love Batali places and all, but I mean really now.
Never eat oysters in a month that has no paycheck in it – P. J. O’Rourke
In the ELV household, it’s a ritual as regular as shopping for white suits or sobering him up on a Sunday morning; every Fall and Spring we make a pilgrimage to Bouchon to slurp our way through our town’s best oysters.
The selection this year is as beautiful as ever. Miyagis, Sister Points, New Brunswicks, and a crop from California that were as briny and cucumber-like as any kumamotos we’ve ever kraved. (Fyi: when ELV and his staff go slurping for the little suckers, we fall somewhere between a connoisseur, a brine hound and a sweet tooth. The best tasting ones we ever had were Belons in Brussels (Belgium, not Ontario) that were so alive they contracted when you squeezed lemon juice on them. But alas, due to a recent plague, such beauties may be gone forever.)
To finish, two classic desserts done here like no where else: ile flottante (floating island) in vanilla sauce and the decadently rich bouchon (little, wine-cork sized brownies that are so good, one order is never enough).
Bouchon remains one of the steadiest, most pitch-perfect operations we have. It knows exactly what it wants to do, and invariably cooks everything as pristinely as a perfectionist like Thomas Keller demands. You will never find any new ground being plowed by this kitchen, but every dish is as good as you’ll ever find 5,412 miles from Gay*Paree.
In the Venetian Hotel and Casino
3355 Las Vegas Blvd. South
Las Vegas, NV 89109-8941
* As in blithe, cheery, and winsome