My standard answer always has been that it depends on the size of your wallet, the size of your appetites for both food and alcohol and even your tastes in food. If you load up on the roasted half Maine lobster and you can put away close to a bottle of the Mumm's Cordon Rouge they're pouring (retail somewhere around $40), then, yeah, you'll likely feel you've gotten your money's worth. If, on the other hand, your idea of a big brunch is a waffle and a cup of coffee, then no, probably not so much. And of course it depends if $85 is a day's pay for you or pocket change.

But there's a new element that I didn't know about, and it's a bit of tarnish on the Sterling (sorry ...):

If you call to make a reservation, they'll ask if you're a platinum or diamond player-card member. When you show up at the podium, the hostess will ask if you're a platinum or diamond player-card member. And when a maitre d' appears to show you to a table, he asks the hostess, "card or no card"? And that, as it turns out, is a very important question.

I wanted to know what was with the card thing, so I asked the hostess, who provided a detailed explanation. If you hold platinum status, she said, you can be a walk-in and get in ahead of those who aren't platinum holders, even if they have reservations. And diamond trumps platinum.

Fair enough. While I found a little disconcerting her you-too-can-achieve-diamond-status pitch -- as though she were a teacher encouraging perfect attendance, or something else that really is attainable to all -- I found the practice perfectly normal, at least in Las Vegas. Where, after all, is there not a buffet where line passes are accepted? What casino restaurant doesn't give preferential treatment to its best (read: most spendy) guests? It's a fact of doing business, at least as it's done in Las Vegas.

This is what I didn't find perfectly acceptable: If you get a "no card" designation, you're seated not in Bally's Steakhouse, where the Sterling Brunch has long been held, but in the next-door Al Dente restaurant. So to get your food you have to walk through Al Dente to the door, cross the little restaurant lobby, enter Bally's Steakhouse and walk through the steakhouse to the food displays at the rear. And then back again.

It's to increase seating capacity, our waiter told us without being asked, after he greeted us in the near-empty Al Dente (where two guys across the way hailed us cheerily because until we entered they'd been alone in the restaurant). We noted that the steakhouse was more than half-empty, but then again it was early and the tier policy certainly encourages big spenders to not make reservations, making it more difficult to predict traffic.

But surely there are better ways to handle this -- ways that are less ham-handed. Perhaps by cutting a passage door between the two restaurants? Or by putting even a token food display -- bread, fruit, maybe the dessert area that's awkwardly positioned at the entrance to the steakhouse -- in the annex? Or covering the Al Dente sign with one that denotes Sterling or something? Or moving the whole thing to a ballroom?

The food was great, as always. The salmon in the smoked-salmon poached eggs with chive Hollandaise sauce was a little on the strong side, but we loved the black-pepper-and-mint-crusted rack of lamb, the steamed king crab legs, the pan-seared filet mignon with cipollini onions, the lobster bisque, the salads, the sushi, the fruit and the desserts. And our waiter was great.

But here's the thing: On our first visit to the Sterling Brunch about 15 years ago, and on every subsequent visit, management surely had a system for rewarding the caino's best players, but the rest of us weren't made to feel like the great unwashed. And back then, the Sterling Brunch was the only game in town when it came to upscale brunches.

That's not the case anymore.

Las Vegas Review-Journal reviews are done anonymously at Review-Journal expense. Contact Heidi Knapp Rinella at 383-0474 or hrinella@reviewjournal.com.