Friday, September 26, 2008
Vegas Part Seven: Bouchon
They're not like Les Halles where they fry them in duck fat...allegedly...but they're pretty damn good. They make you fart.
Tania is going to write part six. But she’s in Italy right now eating totally crappy food and looking at stupid shit like Michaelangelo’s David. Which my mom named me after, incidentally. Get it? David? Hilarious. I just wish I had giant marble hands and a tiny marble cock. “Hi, I’m DAVID,” I’d say extending my giant marble hand. I wouldn’t be nude, however. No, I’d be covering my tiny marble cock with marble pants. Which is a great band name: The Marble Pants. Anyway, Tania is going to write about Joel Rubochon’s “L’ Atelier.” It was the highlight of our trip. In the meantime, though, I’m going to write about our last day in Italy—I mean Vegas. We had a late flight on Monday, so we went to Thomas Keller’s Bouchon restaurant at the Venetian.
I'm growing very accustomed to this Vegas thing. I think I'm a manatee because this is my natural element.
Keller calls it a bistro. But “bistro” only refers to the food, not the prices. It’s not crazy expensive, but Tania and I consider it a special treat every time we go. I think this was our fifth time? I’ve been asked by friends, “Where do we go eat in Vegas?” I always say, “Bouchon.” And every time I’m thanked. If you go to Vegas and you want a totally normal, but great food experience, go to Bouchon.
On this occasion, we went for lunch. Sort of. They open the bar at three and they have a bar menu. So we ordered a bottle of wine, some oysters and a tuna fish salad sandwich. I actually just drooled while writing that. That sounds so good right now. Wine, oysters, tuna fish salad sandwich. I think that’s going to be the name of the Marble Pants first album. It was so simple, but so perfect. As it always is.
I should mention here that we both agree the Vegas Bouchon is better than the original Bouchon in Napa. [Unfortunately I can’t find the Napa photos right now, so that’ll be an upcoming post.] We went to the original Bouchon in Napa after our wedding a few months ago. It was awesome, but our waiter was a faggot, there was a fly on the wall behind Tania for the entire meal, and there was a really rich douche bag table behind us that ate, drank, and laughed like Martha Stewart. I’m so pissed I don’t have those photos. We took pictures of the lady. She wore a scarf. And every sip of wine she took, she’d do that weird sommelier thing where’d she’d suck and gargle it. Every sip. So I’d hear that, then her piercing laugh, then a gargle, then a piercing laugh, then a gargle, ad infinitum. I think that’s why the fly just sat on the wall behind Tania: it was too stunned to move. It was a good lunch, but the Vegas Bouchon is better.
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