We sat in the sweet spot of the dining room closest to the street: at one of the tables just inside the open french windows, sheltered from the midday heat but with a nice view of the Bellagio fountains across the street.
The design is French brasserie all the way; the service is cheerful American. This may be the perfect combination.
Let's pause for a moment and offer thanks for the baguette. It's placed on your table in a paper bag. So chic. But the taste: the shattering crunch of the exterior, the fresh and chewy interior, the joy of its union with the rapidly melting, slightly salted butter . . . You could just eat the whole thing yourself, or you could order lunch. Both are good choices.
We shared the butter lettuce salad, which allegedly included asparagus (didn't see many; maybe husband stole them while I was having an affair with the bread) and a huge round of goat cheese. Briefly considered slathering the rest of the baguette with same, wolfing down the whole thing, and returning to the room for a nap. No! Discipline!
Ahi tuna burger was moist and delicious. Lots of wines by the glass; the riesling was refreshing.
But whatever. I primly rolled up the top of the baguette bag and popped it in my purse. Nana would have been proud.