I recently moved just down the street from what will certainly kill me, Hash House a Go Go. I say kill me because it is very likely I will eat here 2-3 times a day until I literally explode. It's really good. But if I could Tarantino this review and skip backwards in time...
Chapter 1: The terrible Advice
When I first moved to Vegas in a discussion about food two people who's opinions I value warned me against going to Hash House. Its overrated they said, the food is really bad they said, chicken and waffles is gross they said. Like an IDIOT I listened to them and didnt go to Hash House until my 4th year living here.
Chapter 2: The house that hash built
Once I moved to Sahara I thought to myself, "Self, what if they are wrong? What if Hash House is as good as yelpers say? I mean, my friends are idiots, I don't know why I listen to them about anything...". So I decided to try it on a Saturday afternoon. When I walked in the place was packed and I was told at least a 20 minute wait. We were seated in about 5 minutes which is good because after a mere 5 minutes I was ready to murder several customers to eat the food I had seen recently delivered to them.
Chapter 3: That's a big flapjack
A lot of the reviews discuss portion size, and I'll admit the portions are bonkers- I am a warm blooded American who doesn't quit anything from war to to tee ball games where I'm down 20 runs, but even I had to tap out after eating only 5lbs of my 10lb flapjack. The side of potatoes went largely untouched. All in all I felt a great deal of post eating shame at how much food I had left over, maybe that's just cause I was raised Catholic. I will say I found it a bit preposterous that when they delivered this 20 inch in diameter flapjack that they gave me approx 1/2 a tea spoon of butter and like 4 ml of syrup. After explaining to the waitress that I was a human man and would be requiring more they brought 2 more little cups... Come on Hash House get it together- the only people who eat pancakes without drowning them in syrup are masochists and the criminally insane. A pancake isn't even really a food- its just a utensil designed to ferry butter and syrup from the plate into my gullet.
Chapter 4: The Menu
This was tough. There were at least 10 things i wanted to immediately order but having seen the size of the portions I knew getting 10 entrees would be a tad excessive. This will require future visits to try everything and answer some philosophical questions like what is the difference between a hash and a scramble? How much can I eat before I die like that guy in Seven? How drunk can I get at 10AM on a Tuesday?