Eating Las Vegas: Bouchon

Posted by Dana McMahan on March 8, 2008

I spent three nights in Las Vegas last week for a work conference. My colleagues – good sports they are – permitted me to choose our restaurant every night. With Vegas’ rise to foodie heaven in recent years, this was a most agreeable challenge: where to eat fabulous food, within reasonable walking distance of our hotel – the Wynn, at the north end of The Strip – without exceeding our work per diem too radically.

I recommended Thomas Keller’s Bouchon the first night. If I had a “bucket list,” eating at the French Laundry, Keller’s unequaled temple of cuisine in Napa Valley, would land in the top ten. Keller, known as America's top chef, is one of only two chefs in the world with two simultaneous three-Michelin star restaurants (the other Per Se in New York). I don’t anticipate making the pilgrimage to the French Laundry in the next few years, so an opportunity to dine at a more moderately-priced Thomas Keller restaurant was enticing.

Bouchon is located in the Venetian resort on the Vegas Strip, tucked up high, away from the mesmerizing lights and ringing noises of the casino. Offering French bistro style food in an elegant but relaxed dining room, it was a welcome end to a long travel day. I found them a bit too relaxed though, when our 8:15 table wasn’t yet ready at 8:30. After I checked in twice with the host stand (it was 11:15 by my stomach after all, with lunch at the Louisville airport 12 hours ago) a gracious server did bring us some appetizers on the house. “That’s how we roll here,” he said, grinning. I knew for sure then they weren’t taking their connection with French dining altogether too seriously.

My dining partners and I fell on the marinated olives and the Rillettes aux Deux Saumons (fresh and smoked salmon rillettes with toasted croutons) while we waited. I really liked the soft, plump olives, but the salmon – served in a glass jar sealed with clarified butter, an interesting presentation – was a little overwhelmingly salmon-y for me. I’m sure it was nice, I just prefer my salmon raw.

At last we made our way to our table, eyeing the other diner’s plates as we passed them. I had studied the menu while we waited, but my plans disappeared when our pleasant waiter revealed the specials, which included a butternut squash soup made with vegetable stock, and escargot — a treat I rarely enjoy this side of the Atlantic. I forgot about the gnocchi I was considering, and ordered the soup, the escargot and a side of pommes frites (which is what you call French fries when you charge $6 for them).

Our candle-lit table sat near the back of the restaurant, affording a view of the other happy diners and the grand oyster bar. The server was friendly and more casual than I would have expected, though that made for a relaxed, non-stuffy experience.

My squash soup, topped with a dollop of creme fraiche, arrived fairly quickly, followed by a server bearing a pepper grinder. I rushed to taste the thick and creamy deep orange soup, only to burn my tongue and roof of my mouth. It’s a nice touch that the bowl is warmed, but the soup was piping hot, and I sipped more cautiously afterwards. It was very nice, the texture not off putting at all (sometimes the case with this type of soup, which can remind one of baby food). Well seasoned, and a generous portion, the soup really could have served as my meal. But with escargot and frites coming, I forced myself to stop eating halfway through the bowl. To be honest, I should have finished the soup.

The escargot, served in a heavy black dish perched on a doily on a Bouchon-emblazoned plate was just ok for me. The individual puff pastries topping each snail were a nice touch, but I didn’t love the sauce enough to mop it up, and the inherent butteriness of puff pastry seemed a bit of overkill for dipping in the butter sauce.

Here’s where I say I know I’m not in France. I know it’s not fair to compare escargot here to the still-in-the-shell snails I enjoyed so thoroughly sitting outside in Provence last summer, soaking up every last drop of buttery sauce as le Mistral whipped my hair. I know. But still, I did have higher expectations here, and found them to be just sort of mediocre. I shared one and left one on my plate, and didn’t bother with the puff pastries. The frites in their cute little cone were much better. Though they bordered on being a little too salty (and I love salty fries), they were perfectly crisp, golden-brown and hot, just what fries should be.

My companions enjoyed their dishes of Moules au Safran et à la Moutarde
(Maine bouchot mussels steamed in white wine, mustard & saffron) and Poulet Roti (a roasted chicken with onion confit, celeriac, black truffle tartlet and chicken jus). Though the cheese and desser selections were tempting, I was quite full and had been awake too may hours at this point to stay at the table any longer.

One down, two to go!

Check out this video of Bouchon by fellow foodie "ElmoMonster":