My first visit to Vegas was solely for gambling with college buddies. Our finest meal was at P.F. Chang’s. Make your own lettuce cups!

I’ve been for a few software conferences. Buffets of cold cuts abound during the day, but I occasionally struck a free meal at Joe’s Stone Crabs or Il Mulino. Mind you, there are amazing chilled crab claws with tangy mustard sauce at Joe’s, and Il Mulino offers wonderful langoustines and an impossibly crisp veal Milanesa, but I was only scratching the cutting board when it came to this town.

Though it’s nearly impossible to find a restaurant which doesn’t reek of schtick, that doesn’t plaster the celebrity chef name all over the decor, once you shrug off the cloak of shill, you realize some of the top cuisine in the country brews in Vegas.

Think about it. Las Vegas has everything the culinary biosphere needs to survive, which in turn attracts some of the chefs from around the country who desire to learn in kitchens practically devoid of a budget. Vegas has plenty of space, desirable locale, famous people, investors, and most importantly – people willing to part with the green on a scale which is scary and foreign.

For example, a generous (to understate it) friend ordered a $900 bottle of Champagne off the list at Michael Mina’s Stripsteak on our second evening. The sommelier cooly looked off across the restaurant, ”I just sold one to a table over there; that’s the last bottle of that.” There are few places in the world where this is ‘normal’.

The trip was fantastic, though it’s almost embarrassing how well we ate. Almost. So now I share my photos with the internet. May they influence and guide you on your next trip to the greasy LV. (Or incite you will jealousy and rage. Whatever.) Click the name of each restaurant below for the full Flickr set.  

Our first meal was at L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon (website), the French “Chef of the Century’s” workshop style (open kitchen, bar seating) restaurant of which there are a few outposts worldwide. We opted to select three menu items each and share, rather than tackle the full tasting menu. While I wouldn’t put it in my top meals of all time or any outrageous claim like that (and it is priced as if it should be), it was fantastic. Some real home runs (like the wondrous scallop with uni below), stunning wines, and a cool ambience/view of the kitchen. Though my ass and back hurt the entire time in their simple bar seats.

Desserts were of note. The white chocolate, a perfect sphere which melts open as hot raspberry liquid is poured over, was a crowd pleaser. We of course tried Robuchon’s famous mashed potatoes (more butter than potato, too much for me really), and the guilt-laden and well-sized foie gras and Kobe sliders were so damn satisfying; just the right size too. I highly recommend L’Atelier. It’s just a fun spot, some great food, and with impeccable service.

Still full after a few hours of restless sleep (a theme which developed), our lunch the next day was at Lotus of Siam (website), which I’ll dub the “Thai, Riesling-Heavy Bern’s“. Meaning, the wine list is great, relatively cheap, and the place is a lot of fun.

I told one of the blackjack dealers about Lotus, and explained the riesling list. She wrinkled her nose and expressed her displeasure for the varietal. More for me. I guess she probably won’t try these crispy shrimp, with fried shrimp shell “chips” either.

Oh, dinner again so soon? Let’s hit up Stripsteak (website), Michael Mina’s take on the “classic” steak house featuring slow butter poached steaks and riffs on favorites like red onion rings with tomato powder. But what better way to start than Iranian caviar and all the fixin’s? Look how marvelous and perfectly delineated each of those little Osetra eggs are!

My steak was an 8oz, $67 cut off the Wagyu ribeye – a cross section slice of the primal so the steak is comprised of only the tender, fatty cap. Sinfully rich, this buttery beauty was the best steak I never want to have again. It was so rich, one person in our party could only finish half of hers. Four ounces.

Day 3. “Oh my god we have to eat dumplings now”, I think to myself as I wipe the meat sweats from my brow while walking into the impressive Cosmopolitan to dine at China Poblano (website), the subversive amalgamation of Chinese and Mexican from famed chef Jose Andres. Walk in and notice the ladies on your left making the dim sum. But glance to the right and see the short Hispanic women cooking thin corn tortillas on a flat top. It’s so, um, authentic?

While we had a couple of very, very poor dumpling dishes, and I found the Mexican dishes to be stronger overall, I could eat the Sichuan lamb dumplings all day.

And the twenty vegetable fried rice was a show stopper for both vegetarian and flesh-sinners alike.

Even for me, the squishy beef tendon with kumamoto oyster taco was too much, but it’s a flavor I won’t soon forget.

Phew, one more dinner. Oh we’re early? Let’s have a snack and some killer Spanish white wine next door at Julian Serrano (website). I loved the fava beans, but they weren’t nearly as picturesque as the black rice with squid below. All four of the dishes were quite well done, great for sharing, classic Spanish flavors, too bad we moved on to…

Sage (website). Expectations were high. Numerous awards were on display, and people had really talked up this place in the super cool Aria hotel. I was into day four of perma-full so I just ordered a few appetizers. This big eye tuna below had a lot going on. Anchovies, orbs and powders of “stuff”, and olives and baby artichokes and probably a bunch of other things that didn’t work together. It was just too much. I couldn’t taste the fish. I found the flavors and textures to be weird and distracting. I’m all for experimentation but this was a miss. By the end of the dish I was wondering if Bar Masa (next door) would bring me a few pieces of nigiri to right my raw fish ship.

Next up was venison carpaccio (not photographed). Again, they dumped all sorts of shit all over it, including large lumps of pureed pears which may as well have been apple sauce. Pass.

Last up, a farm egg with a smoked potato puree and truffles. The flavors were good but I didn’t like the texture of the grainy potato, and the truffles were weak. They loved the truffles at Sage, I saw it on a number of dishes. But they weren’t super fragrant or flavorful; all hat and no cattle. Once you have sampled awesome white alba truffles it’s tough to go back. Oh, excuse me, didn’t mean to hit your face with my snob.

*photos from Sage and Julian Serrano by @atl_legend

And finally (are you still reading? really?) we had brunch at Mesa Grill (website) before departing back to Atlanta. It was brunch, so no need to be hyper critical, but it hit the spot. Sauces, eggs, tortillas, and cheese abound. What’s not to like? The Mesa Grill burger was actually damn good. Though that didn’t stop us from getting some In-And-Out burgers for the ride to the airport.

I went to the doctor after I got home for a shoulder injury, where they weigh me at the start of each visit. Yep, gained six pounds.

So this is fantastic. A restaurant in Atlanta featuring dishes with punny rap names? I hope this is real. Personal favorites include the Wu Tang Clams and Snoop Doggy Corn Dogs, which of course is “4 fresh fried corndoggs that ain’t leavin til six in the mornin. So what you wanna do?”.

On another note, I’ve been eating Las Vegas for the last 48 hours and it’s nuts here. So much good food. You know the fatty cap side of a ribeye steak which many people love? In Vegas, for $60 and a little piece of your soul, they’ll make you a Kobe ribeye steak that is a cross cut of JUST THAT PIECE. Ridiculous.

Ms. Moore pointed me in the direction of Spice Junction, a restaurant which opened this summer, and happens to be less than a mile from my office way out in the access road wastelands of West Columbia.

Side story – Eva wrote a nice article about a new cookbook called The Whole Hog Cookbook, which generously featured pictures of my friend Emile’s pork farm, only for everyone to find out later that the cookbook was paid for by Smithfield. Not only was he unknowingly promoting the king (dictator?) of industrial pork, but they didn’t credit the photos as Caw Caw Creek farm. Essentially, they want you to think their facilities look something remotely close to Emile’s swine Xanadu. Sows crammed into crates, covered in blood and wounds and sores do not make for a great cookbook cover I guess.

While Spice Junction is the usual buffet of various regional Indian specialties, I enjoyed my lunch. Super friendly people, an open, clean space, and the curries are bright and flavorful, without any tired, soggy meats. The goat was especially notable, with that firm, but tender texture one aims to achieve in beef bourguignon.

The blistery, hot bread, doused in butter (or likely, ghee?) was a nice touch.

Another restaurant near my office I learned of via Free Times is a raw food restaurant called Good Life Cafe.

I have very little experience with raw food, but I was pleasantly surprised at how excellent my “tacos” were. My photo doesn’t do it justice; it was much more vivid and enticing in person. The kale side is stellar, so much flavor, and texturally on point. I liked the crunchy and juicy jicama “not potato” salad, though I think this portion exceeds the amount of jicama I’ve consumed in my life. The tacos were the opposite of bland. Salsa, guac, cashew “nacho cheese” and “sour cream”, and deft savory spicing of the walnut meat provide enough flavor for any doubter. I could eat this every day and feel good about myself. In that way, it reminds me of Dynamic Dish. I very much look forward to digging into their menu.

I was in NYC this past weekend, so as I’ve done before, I will photo bomb your browser with low quality camera phone shots! Let’s start extra blurry, shall we?

Why are your scallops $41 at Marea? One of many reasons is likely the single piece of golden onyx that backs the popular, social bar they have.

The crudo (raw sea creatures) menu is extensive and expensive, but no regrets on ordering these four little bites of citrus laced langoustines on cucumber. A bright flavored firmness with which my mouth was not familiar.

Uni and crab spaghetti. Excessively beautiful. Their inimitable fresh spaghetti provides a base that would amplify even the humblest of sauce.

Even more well known is Marea’s octopus and marrow fusilli. While I could not exact the marrow flavor, I’m sure it was the well-heeled benefactor behind this rich sauce, which featured suction cup free red wine braised octopus, the most tender to pass thy lips.

Three superlative scallops, seared wonderfully with salsify, hip root vegetable du jour. Quite good, but at $41 not including tax & tip, I expect the mollusks to levitate from their beautiful shells like a Criss Angel illusion (tricks are things whores do for money), right into mi boca, where the taste continues its transcendence upwards directly to my flavor brain. This culinary feat was not quite achieved.

Onwards, I tried a plainly great sausage and rabe sandwich from City Sandwich. Next time I’d go for one of the Portuguese blood sausage offerings.

Monday was Katz’s, my first try, as my family’s always been partial to the packed house (and even more packed sandwiches) at Carnegie.

Gotta say, I was a bit more smitten with Katz’s. Less stress, more open, well tested ordering format…

.. and an epic sandwich. I’m much more of a corned beef than pastrami guy, and this specimen was as good as I’ve had. Along with a Brooklyn lager, it was a fine way to spend a Monday morning.

Then we made the walk South to Chinatown, to try Xi’an Famous Foods, the darling of many food shows from No Reservations to Bizarre Foods. The spicy lamb soup in noodles was a dish to remember. The cumin/Sichuan peppercorn flavor profile is nothing new to fans of Peter Cheng’s, but the noodles are unlike those I’ve had in Atlanta, and the mix of rich broth, lamb, cabbage, herbs was just so damn well done.

$3 lamb burger. My mom considered getting one for the plane home, a move that would have surely resulted in the riot of Delta Flight 561, row 31.

OK, let’s hoof it back up to Little Italy, to check out Torrisi for a sandwich. What’s that? Your new casual fare restaurant next door just opened for the first time ever today? Well you are in luck, Parm, for I am a blogger, an expert in such early assessments. If Torriso is a step forward in the amalgam of Italian American cookery, Parm is out to prove that classics earned such labeling for a reason.

Baked clams, butter, and hot sauce converged for about 90 seconds in the space/mouth continuum.

Chicken parm hoagie. Bright sauce. Crisp hot chicken. Sesame bread especially notable.

Beet tartare at Babbo. This was the best photo I could get. Not pictured – beef cheek ravioli in squab liver sauce with black truffle, or the duck breast/duck confit dish with figs. We had an enjoyable meal for sure, fun with friends, and I mopped up my food, but in terms of pasta genius, finesse, menu interest, and overall excitement, Marea overshadowed the now mature, well oiled machine of Babbo. Though I did sit next to Isaac Mizrahi, who has been singing the praises of Babbo since 1998.

As a friend said, if you want to try Babbo, just head over to La Pietra Cucina on Peachtree. Chef Logue’s menu is of the same style, even featuring a few of the same dishes.

Sunday I dined on a half a banana, a bagel, and five caffeinated power gels as my mom and I ran the NYC marathon, along with 47k other crazies willing to travel by subway, ferry, and bus to Staten Island, than run back from whence we came (Midtown). We had a blast, a weekend to remember. Thanks Mom! Thanks for pulling me through those last few miles!

THE LIST

photos by ATL Legend

After spending a week in France, extensively traveling on foot, train, and tiny rental car, Barcelona was a welcome treat. There is plenty to see and do in this party loving town, but we spent the first two days with our feet up at the resort-style W hotel on the waterfront. Though it’s only a twenty minute schlep from the southern tip of La Rambla, it felt isolated from the city and we were able to just hang out and enjoy the beach, the pool, and expensive rum drinks.

We did eventually check out some sights, like Gaudi’s weirdly organic and awe-inspiring Sagrada Familia.

We hit up the famed Boqueria market near closing time, where plenty of tourists were still checking out the Spanish ham vendors.

But back to the issue at hand.

The W hotel’s flagship restaurant “Bravo” is from Carles Abellán, a local chef notorious for his avant-garde tapas, who before beginning his own mini empire, worked with Ferran Adrià for over fifteen years. This is Abellán’s most straight forward restaurant, focusing on simply prepared, high quality seafood and beef. Being in a pricey, tourist-rich hotel, it’s also his most expensive.

If you aren’t staying at the hotel, I wouldn’t recommend Bravo  for the price we paid, but the outdoor seating with the beach view and the overall experience was memorable. The wine list has quite a few affordable and interesting options, mostly Spanish, a welcome respite from the expensive wines of Paris fine dining. It was extremely dark outside, hence the wonky photos.

Each table started with some very enjoyable bresaola, aka thin sliced cured beef.

I sampled the wonderfully chilly and aromatic salmorejo soup with cured tuna, as well as a few local prawns, which were a real treat, each exploding with the aromas of the ocean, particularly when slurping the heads. Those three prawns were something like 20 euros though, insane!

My main of Spanish short loin was also stupidly expensive. I believe it was 35 euros for a half order, for what turned out to be something akin to a moderately good hanger steak. I was told the cut was not hanger, but it had the chewy funk flavor I associate with hanger. I’ve tried looking up short loin to see it could be a translation issue, but haven’t come up with anything solid. I still think Flannery supplies the best damn beef I’ve ever tasted.

The restaurant that put Abellán’s on the map in Barcelona is Comerç, a more formal fixed price style restaurant, influenced by traditional tapas and Catalan cooking, as well as his time spent tinkering around in the kitchen with Adria. I won’t go blow by blow as there are quite a few dishes, but Katie and I had a great time and I’d definitely recommend a visit.

Not that every dish was crave-worthy. I found a few dishes had odd flavor combinations that are more interesting than delicious, but you can’t say it’s boring.

There were a few dishes that were both exciting and outrageously good, like the tuna tartare with salmon roe, in a roe gelee. Umami roundhouse to the face.

Or the thin sliced monkfish, a fish that made numerous appaerances on our trip, but this version with black sesame and black garlic was the best.

One of many desserts, the saffron ice cream is still stirring up trouble in the flavor memory.

The meal at Comerc was sort of the opposite of the simple and peasant food rooted paella meal earlier that day, and it felt like too much at times, but we had a great time, and I would go back again. Service was impeccable. The sommelier had some cool, affordable selections to offer us, and was excited to let us try numerous dessert wines when we showed interest. They also came up with numerous menu options based on Katie’s restrictions, no problem at all.

Click the custom printed menu below for the full Flickr photo set.

Chocolate, cheese, macaroons, butter, bread. France does them about as well as anywhere. Using davidlebovitz.com as our guide, we sought out some of the best in each category. Below are two of the more famed chocolatiers – Patrick Roger and Pierre Marcolini.

If nothing else, Patrick Roger is worth the visit for the stunning air conditioning that is so rare in Paris. The shop was quiet, pristine, tended to by a single petite woman, hair tautly pulled back as so many French women do, wearing a black leather get-up, complete with black gloves when handling the chocolates. There is also a giant gorilla made of chocolate in the corner, watching your every move. This place mean business.

We tried some of the classics, but also sampled some of their speciality flavor like like lemongrass, orange peel, and verbena with yuzu. The lime caramel served below was stunning, complete with it’s own little box with a magnetic seal. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the chocolates weren’t priced in the stratosphere.

Patrick and I have similar taste in color.

Pierre Marcolini is within walking distance of Roger, perfect for burning those newly acquired calories. We got a few chocolates here as well, more classic in nature, and Katie got ice cream. I didn’t pull the trigger on their famous chocolate covered marshmallow, opting for a few macaroon instead.

Perfect little cookies; everything at these shops were almost too stunning to eat.

Almost.

While in Barcelona we hit up Pez Vela, a relatively new paella restaurant at the base of the W Hotel, right on the beach. Ever since, I can’t stop thinking about paella. Has anyone ever had one that was good in Atlanta?

Doing it at home is probably the best option. I have a paella pan I’ve never used, and some recently acquired bomba rice, so a paella party is in my near future.

The fixed paella menu began with the ubiquitous tomato bread, lightly toasted, with flake salt and fruity olive oil that should put Italians to shame.

It’s tough to beat a big, crunchy salad. The olives are so good in Spain. There were many white asparagus appearances too.

We also sampled a potato tapa, I believe they called it patatas calientes. The more common patatas bravas is often served with aioli and/or romesco sauce, but this was paired with something more like a spicy onion soubise, basically a chopped up/melted caramelized onion sauce with some chili oil. This was UNREAL.

The pièce de résistance – squid, shrimp, and clam paella.

The seafood was of course fresh and salty and perfect. But the rice! Oh, the rice! Short, firm, toothsome (did I really just say that?), each grain was a slick explosion of salty ocean flavor. And the thin layer meant almost every bite had a dose of the lustful socarrat, the fought over caramelized and crunchy flavor bits that form on the bottom and edge of the pan. Recalling it now…I think it just moved.

Katie likes dessert. :)

What a view, huh? These old Spanish gentlemen cracked me up. Taking a jog down the beach one morning, I saw a lot of scantily clad men close-talking and helping each other out with sunblock, also many tables of shirtless seniors playing dominos and drinking Dewar’s at about 9:30 AM. The Mediterranean diet, indeed.

Of the many meals I was looking forward to in August, Le Chateaubriand was very high on the list. Besides being ranked the 9th best restaurant in the world in the latest San Pellegrino list, they’ve received high praise from a trusted friend. Chef Iñaki Aizpitarte’s restaurant has been highly polarizing from day one, with the consensus being that his very affordable fixed, daily changing menu will show you flashes of brilliance, but his non interventional preparations and chilly attitude can be uninspiring and unimpressive to some. Food Snob has a very good post (as always) on Le Chateaubriand where he gives some background on chef and also addresses some of this criticism.

Unfortunately my post won’t be as thorough. In fact, it’s downright embarrassing how little I know about some of these dishes. For one, the menu was in French and while I could pick out a few words here and there, I wasn’t sure exactly what was in store. Then they quickly took it away, so I couldn’t save one for future translation. Finally, we were having dinner with my good friends Jason and Leslie, who were nice enough to drive in from their home in Brussels, and the focus of the evening was more on catching up with old friends than course-by-course note taking (which I saw a blogger do at another hot restaurant in Paris). Let me dig in the best I can.

Our second amuse (after some nice gougeres) were small scallops served in a briny pork jus. The pork was subtle, not slick or fatty, but just a barely noticeable and interesting complement to the fresh shellfish.

Next course – tomato salad, with some interesting sauce,  can’t remember (yeah, I’m a fool).

Squid, capers, basil, turnip salad. I’m not a big squid fan. It’s just too chewy and I don’t get a lot of flavor out of it. I did enjoy the small application of capers and excessive use of basil. Next.

Catfish (that’s what they called it), raspberries, micro fennel, and musty, light shavings of who knows what. This was real good. Again, I really wish I knew what those shavings were, but the earthy funk was a welcome addition to the already eclectic mix of flavors accompanying the spot on fish. Not sure that it’s a knockout, but the flavors were fun, and it was quite different.

This is the best picture I have (unfortunately) of the most memorable dish of my entire trip. The best way I could describe it is a medium cooked piece of veal loin, wrapped in a creamy “risotto” made of seaweed, topped with mild but aromatic foraged vegetables and weeds (purslane?), sprinkled with a salty seaweed umami explosion powder. It’s like the wildest surf and turf I’ve ever had, but there is zero seafood involvement. It was one of the more creative and cool things I’ve eaten in a long time. All the usual suspect adjectives apply. Subtle, savory, creamy, technical, comforting, powerful, aromatic, all at the same time. It’s a dish that’s haunted me, and I wish I knew more about it. Wild.

Cheese course. Oh, not sure if this is blogger inside information, but the cheese is excellent in France.

Dessert. Absolutely no recollection of what this was.

Cantaloupe with spices. Cool idea for quick dessert.

At 50-60 euros (can’t recall exactly), I’d visit this restaurant again in a heartbeat. Top 10 restaurant in the world? Hard to say, that’s so subjective. Many of those top restaurants are crazy expensive, involved, and theatrical in nature. This place is just cool. Some works, some doesn’t, and they don’t really care if you dig it. There’s a dozen people at the bar at all times eyeballing your table.

Jason and Leslie – thanks so much for joining us! It’s fantastic to see some friendly faces while traveling abroad, and we hope you had as much fun as we did.

We’re just back from our 12 day honeymoon adventure. It was fantastic. Too much so perhaps. I’m tired, full, permanently buzzed, and a good bit poorer than when we left. I look forward to getting some new Atlanta related posts out there, trying a few (inexpensive) new restaurants and cooking more often, but in the mean time I thought I’d share a few food things from our trip. Yeah, it’s another continent, but food is food, and it’s cool to see how the scene compares.

Take the Saturday afternoon market in the town center of Beaune, for example. It’s an amazing array of fruits and vegetables, cheeses, and meats, prepared items, rotisserie chickens, breads, anything you desire. It’s of a quality and breadth that I hope our growing farmer’s market scene could match one day.

There were loads of olives. I didn’t buy any, but I walked slow as I passed to take in the intoxicating aromas.

‘Maters were in full effect in Beaune.

Burgundy is famous for their selection of mushrooms, especially chanterelles.

These truffles were only 20-40 euros each, but unfortunately I don’t think the summer truffles are worth the expense. At one restaurant in town I had a fried egg completely smothered with truffle shavings, and there were almost zero aromatics, though the texture was nice.

The whole town seemed to be there, such a social affair.

Another local favorite are the Bresse chickens, which I was able to try later that evening. Really good.

We were shopping for snacks so we could picnic as we drove around the Côte de Nuits (North of Beaune) that afternoon. I should have purchased double the amount of this creamy, excellent Tomme. I also picked up a few slices of some charcuterie to go with the mustard and bread.

This moutarde terrine was also pure excellence. Perhaps the best I’ve had, even when it got a little ripe from a few hours in the warm car.

Speaking of the car, this was our bad mofo ride. We were all over dem hills, checking out the vines, stopping for a few sips of our white wine and a few bites of our wares. When we stopped at Clos Vougeot for a spell, the cyclists touring the Grand Crus were quite jealous of our impromptu picnic. Or at least, I like to think they were.