| rev:text
| - Most everything was good, some things even great. But there were plenty of service missteps, awkward moments, and food fumbles... not exactly the kind of memorable meal I expect from a Thomas Keller establishment.
Our waiter was sweet, but not ready for prime time. As C said: "He has the raw skills to be a great waiter, but he's not there yet." Awkward check-ins, stammering recitations of the specials, and a rather graceless handling of a bar mistake... plus one outright "WHA?" moment, when he described "soubise" to the couple next to us as "kind of like a risotto." Um, ah-no.
The space suffers from a lack of coziness. I know, I know... it's Vegas, but the high ceilings feel less like the Grand Hotel and more like the Grand Canyon. On the positive side the decor is cute without dipping into cliche, and the host staff and managers were right on top of things, both as we arrived and as we departed.
The food, alas, was similarly hit and miss. After placing our order, shatteringly good bread and a welcome bowl of pistachios accompanied our drinks, a signature Bouchon cocktail for me (slightly overdone on the peach liqueur for my taste -- but hey, it's their recipe) and a glass of Sancerre for Mr. C.
Moving into the appetizers, C's onion soup came out of the kitchen terribly undersalted (and, of course, no salt on the table meant he had to ask our gawky waiter to bring some). My frisee salad was top notch -- perfect egg, lovely lardons -- but slightly overdressed.
We both opted for nightly specials for our main course. C's dayboat scallops were perfectly seared, served in a creamy but not too heavy sauce gilded with tender pieces of crab, and accomplanied by a light-as-air potato gratin. (Sounds impossible, I know... but true.) My pave de veau featured meltingly tender veal breast, assembeled into a cube and crisped up with panko bread crumbs. Underneath: Lovely roasted brussels sprouts, a slightly overpowering soubise (an onion-infused Bechamel sauce not at all like a risotto, thanks), and slightly odd but definitely tasty chestnut "pain perdu" sticks on top of the stack.
For dessert, we chose after-dinner drinks and an order of beignets to share. The pastries themselves were cold and leaden, like they'd been made well ahead or service, and their cream filling turned out pasty and too heavy. An unbilled scoop of chocolate ice cream was the dessert's saving grace.
Our waiter stopped back after our dessert arrived to let us know it would be a few minutes before the bar could serve my requested glass of Poire Williams, as they needed to get a bottle from storage. I didn't mind the delay, but his fumbling and stumbling around the whole episode left me more annoyed than the actual missing drink.
All in all, it felt more like a meal that should have cost closer to $150 than the $230 we spent, even adjusting for the Vegas Factor.
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