This is the weekend of the Big Game.
Unless you're oblivious to the place of football in American life, you know exactly which game I'm talking about. The NFL's crackdown on commercial use of their pigskin-peppered cash cow has prompted so many bars and restaurants to refer to it as the Big Game that the term has become fully synonymous, so I'd say the crackdown's been pretty successful, wouldn't you? Oops, there I go, digressing again.
Anyway. There are tons of places in town to watch the Big Game (I'm pretty sure I'm allowed to call it the Super Bowl, but this is more fun), including your couch, the couch of that friend who has the 1,000-inch plasma screen and any sports bar and/or poker bar with a TV, NFL crackdowns notwithstanding. But here's an idea: the ESPN Zone at New York-New York.
Yes, it's on the Strip. If you're visiting, that makes it more convenient, but if you're a local, remember that it's fun to play tourist once in a while. And what better place to watch the Big Game than a place that's by definition devoted to sports?
The ESPN Zone makes it easy to see whatever game is on -- or even something else, if you so desire. In addition to the requisite TV wall (in this case viewable from a row of recliners, as well as tables), each booth has its own small screen, with touch-screen technology. As our hostess seated us, she told us how to use it. Then, since we hadn't turned it on because we were looking at the menu and clearly had our priorities out of whack, our waiter told us how to use it. Then, because we still hadn't turned it on, our waiter and a passing server asked us if it wasn't working. So even if you don't want to watch the Big Game or whatever else is on TV, here's a tip: Turn it on. It'll be quieter that way.
Our waiter was one of those guys who likes to tell you what his favorites are. I've never really understood that practice; if immediate family members have different preferences in food, why am I going to trust those of a stranger? But he was so enthusiastic and descriptive in his tout that we ended up following his lead. So it would be wings ($10.99), the Smoke House Burger ($14.99) and the Southwest Chicken Salad ($13.99).
The wings come in three versions -- Buffalo, barbecue or jerk. Buffalo it would be for us, and Buffalo they were (unlike some of the abominations we've had), around a dozen, fried without being greasy, kicky without being incendiary, meaty while still being wings. No charge for the traditional celery sticks, and our server brought us both blue cheese and ranch for dipping, plus a cup of the barbecue sauce he'd been raving about.
Which, as you might imagine, had a starring role in the Smoke House Burger. It wasn't the medium-rare we had requested (either because of a nanny policy or a mistake in the kitchen we're not sure, because our waiter had promised that it would be), but still juicy enough that we had to cut it in half to manage and still had juices threatening to run down our arms. It had several crisp strips of bacon, some white cheddar, chipotle mayo and the hallowed barbecue sauce which, yes, was indeed pretty special, a well-balanced tomato-based blend of sweet and smoky. It was so good, in fact, that we dipped our fries in the extra cup he'd brought with the wings.
Our waiter had mentioned that a lot of people are put off by the Southwest Chicken Salad because it contains bow-tie pasta, and, yeah, that had put us off as well. He assured us that it was the perfect touch because it sort of soaked up the dressing in the bottom of the bowl. And, well, we agreed with a lot of people. The bulk of the salad was good -- a chicken breast that had been marinated in a kicky mixture and was nice and moist, a spring mix of lettuces that was cold and crisp, a corn salsa that was crunchy and flavorful and a chipotle vinaigrette that was brazenly acidic (which is a good thing). But the pasta was just weird. Maybe it was a little too al dente, maybe the cut was too large, but at any rate it didn't marry well with the rest of the ingredients.
We were having lunch, so we decided to skip dessert and get back to the office. That's one thing that won't be a problem on Big Game day.
Las Vegas Review-Journal reviews are done anonymously at Review-Journal expense. Contact Heidi Knapp Rinella at 383-0474 or e-mail her at hrinella@ reviewjournal.com.
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