Oh here we go! Hell’s Kitchen Las Vegas. We finally get to taste some Gordon Ramsay speciality food. Our memories fade back to days of The London and that awesome Beef Wellington. And even more, London held two of my favorite culinary memories: The last time we ate there, we saw and met with Neil deGrasse Tyson, the solar systems most stellar name since Carl Sagan. And then there was the food porn picture incident, where some lady asked the waiter to tell us to stop talking pictures because the flash was bothering her. I mean, yes, its annoying when people do that, using flash in restaurants for Instagram food shots, but we were the only two tables in the place! Whatever!
Anyway, this was Vegas and this was going to be one hell of a party! Wrong! The hostess tries to be as cool and nonchalant as some nightclub hostess. Whatever, you see me you insolent little prick. And then, instead of some cool Vegas waiting area, we’re forced to stand in this lame ass cheesy little roped off line. We could have walked around the lobby…foyer…area in front with a life size video recording of Ramsay saying some weird obnoxious stuff, but it was unclear if our name was being called or if we were waiting in line in the order of arrival. I didn’t want the newcomers to jump us, so we waited in line like the little sheep that we are. Lame.
As we’re being shown to our seats, the kitchen is laid out in huge Red Team Blue Team manner. quite impressive, but unfortunately, that’s the most impressive thing about that space. Just a big hall of a space ala Cheesecake Factory with half the seats removed. And pitchforks. Lot’s of pitchforks. Everywhere pitchforks! I get it already, its Hell’s Kitchen! I know, I just spent purgatory waiting for the place. Oh well, at least when I meet my demise, I’ll be able to look up and say, “I know. I remember this place.”
Good thing though, we are seated in the antechamber, the back room so to speak. At least it’s a little darker, more quiet and you don’t feel like you’re on display. The waiter comes over, finally, and…I don’t know why…but just makes me feel so uncomfortable. Just a real shark-snarkiness about him. I think he or someone must have said something to put me on edge, but either way, I was and he was not making it any better.
Oh well, so much for the Ramsay swag, the menu is rather plain, typical restaurant. Fish, steak, The Wellington, chicken. We start with the Scallops, and for some reason, I love Scallops. And I say that like, I don’t know why I like them, really not much to them, but I always want them when I see them on a menu. Weird, yep, and it’s actually been awhile since I had a good order of them to make it worthwhile.
Well this time, I got it right. First, there’s five to a plat, so plenty to have. Most of the time, there’s only 2 or 3, but with 5, Nancy lets me have a whole one, so I get 3 plump, tender and flavorful. They have just the perfect consistency, the celery root puree blandness was corrected with a touch of bacon fat flavor. The little scallions on top were gone on the second and third pieces, no need, and too sour to not annoy that subtle bacon taste.
So once the food starts coming out, first on the table was the Mac and Cheese. Truth be told, I’m on a MnC pilgrimage. Trying to feed the perfect, or at least something that comes close to the Truffle MnC we had for our Christmas dinner with friends at The Belvedere in The Peninsula years ago. OMG! That let me know MnC is in fact a grown dish that has been watered down for kids, and not the other way around. And so Gordon hits a high note here with his Gouda heavy noodle-rific wonder. But what drives it home is the crispy prosciutto on top. Yes, packs as much flavor as bacon, but in a lighter, crispier dissolves on your tongue manner. And this time, the scallions play the correct role in providing just a tippy top touch of acid. Heaven!
Finally, the Beef Wellington arrives and the presentation is just wonderful. Light and fluffy is the view with the whip potatoes, and I do mean whipped. Oozing with cream, the potatoes are light and delicate as can be. And then it happens…the first bite. And bam! Turns out I was in hell after all. The crust, light and flaky…on top. Gooey down below…please hold your jokes until the end. the meat was cooked to perfection, the mushroom sweater was perfectly uniform. And the flavor, was…gone. Both of us just stared at one another. Where was the flavor? the Scallops. Perfect. Mac and Cheese. Delicious. Beef Wellington. Check please. But of course we powered through it. I’m not that crazy. But it was just so flat. If you’re a carnivore, nowhere beats Vegas. The steak houses here are insane! One of the few places in the world were if you order Kobe, you get Kobe. But this was bland. Perfectly bland. On well. And with that we head out. Not even wanting to try desert, the MnC did us just fine. I miss that original London Wellington. I know Satan, I know.
