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| - Cabo at Red Rock was a fave for awhile, before I really migrated beyond "a solid cheese enchilada" in my expectations for Mexican food. (I still love a good cheese enchilada, but these days when I dine out I usually want more invention that something I could make at home.) I always did like their bean dip, though. Cabo at Palace was about the same.
We decided to try Cabo at Aliante before the (breathtaking, amazing) Lindsey Buckingham show there last month. The bar of expectations was lowered back to "comfort food" levels, and we looked forward to some good chips and bean dip and some decent food, if not very fancy or creative.
Alas, the star is for the friendly staff... and that's about it.
To give the experience anything above a single star would require wearing margarita goggles, and we were only drinking soda. (At least whenever we could. Refills were slow. Overall service was even slower.)
The bean dip wasn't as good as we remembered, but perhaps our tastes had changed. It wasn't bad, though, and we ate it all as we waited... and waited... (I seem to recall other Cabos offering us refills of chips and salsa. As ours eventually disappeared, we sat with empty bowls in front of us.)
Mind you, the chips were kind of hard-tasting and rough, so maybe they did us a favour. I can only blame hunger for the reason we kept eating them.
The queso dip we ordered as a starter was fine for a few bites, when hot and fresh, but soon we realized that it didn't have any taste. "It just tastes like... glue? yellow glue?" None of the advertised onions, chiles, or tomatoes seemed to be there other than a token two red chile slices as garnish.
We watched a server make the "tableside guacamole" for the people to the right of us. We'd seen this done expertly at other Cabos. Here it was just a woman grunting to herself, turned slightly away from the table as she dumped the ingredients together and mashed them with a fork until they were barely mixed.
On our other side, someone got the well-advertised taco special. You know how when you order tacos in a place where Mexican food is pretty unknown, and you get some vivid yellow corn shells with vivid green iceberg lettuce and dumpy brown meat, and what looks like a stream of ketchup across the top? (I hope you don't.) We took one look at the man's plate and both turned to each other. "I'm glad we didn't order that!"
Oh, cocky us.
My husband had ordered nachos and I'd ordered the cheese enchiladas. His nachos looked like someone had thrown the ingredients on a plate and not bothered to mix them up. One side had almost all the cheese, another almost all the beans, and so on. And the taste... bleh. "The sauce tastes like Pace. It tastes worse than the table salsa!"
I ate half of my cheese enchiladas, but it was just too bland, like someone had rolled cheese in a tortilla, melted it in the microwave, then poured jar sauce over it and set it in the oven for a few minutes.
After a few bites, Mike gave up. My peaceful husband would normally have just written this off, not wanting to deal with potential drama, but the longer he stared at the nachos, the more disgusted he was with them. When our waitress came by to ask how things were, he explained why he wasn't happy and asked that she show the chef so the chef could see there was a problem. He didn't ask for the nachos to be taken off the bill, but the waitress suggested it, and when she asked for authorization, it was approved.
Like I said, nice people. A bit overwhelmed with a busy Friday night crowd, I guess, as we ended up with only enough time before the show to hit the restroom, which we both very much needed to do. I'm just saying.
Next time Lindsey Buckingham comes to Aliante, we'll just concentrate on a gourmet treat for our ears and eyes, and we'll skip the sub-mediocre offerings for the mouth.
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