| rev:text
| - I first have to mention how grateful I am to the staff at VooDoo for putting up with my group's shenanigans. It's been a while since I organized a large-scale restaurant outing, and I should have remembered to lower my expectations. First we had a reservation for seven at 8:15, then a side group got a separate reservation for four. In the afternoon, two cancelled, so we consolidated the arrangements into a single reservation for nine. Based on what I knew about the restaurant, I was surprised that they could be so flexible only a few hours before the Saturday night rush.
Four of us arrived on time and waited in the bar...and waited, and waited, and waited. Ultimately, we wrote off one friend entirely, but the two earlier cancellers were back in, so we changed from nine to ten. All of this was no problem for the staff. Soon after, they seated the four of us, despite our uncertainty about the arrival time of our friends.
Ultimately, they came almost an hour late. In the meantime, we had ordered some drinks and wine. In my mind, I was trying to invest just enough in the table to keep them from throwing us out, but at no time were they anything short of gracious and accommodating.
Much later, one severely drunk friend fell asleep in his chair and then had to be literally carried out by two of my other friends. The VooDoo people never batted an eye. They even gave us a complimentary Bananas Foster for our 30th-birthday friend. When it was time to pay, we asked to split the bill across seven credit cards. I wish that I could remember our waiter's name, but I've discarded the receipt. I made sure to tip VERY well.
Now, the rest of the experience: We found this place through the magazine in our hotel room, and it seemed like a great option for our one big meal while in town. The restaurant is on the 50th floor of the Rio, and the view from our table was spectacular. I was surprised that it was never full in there on a Saturday night. We did not go upstairs to the lounge, but we saw some interesting characters (and a lot of flesh) coming and going with that purpose. The restaurant seemed somewhat more touristy and less ultra-hip than the magazine made out. There is a minor dress code (no sneakers, flip-flops, torn jeans, or t-shirts) to keep things just a little classy. We had a fine time overall, and the food was very good.
I started with a Witch Doctor appetizer sampler. When it arrived, I was disappointed by its small size, and by the realization that all four items were fried. Crab cake, coconut shrimp, tasso ham beignets, and rock shrimp hush puppies: they were all tasty, but at $18 for a small plate of glorified fried seafood, I felt a little bit taken.
My entree wiped out any trace of bad feelings. I really wanted the Australian #8 Wagyu Ribeye, but at $15 per ounce with a 5-ounce minimum...well, let's just say that I wasn't caught up enough in the decadent spirit of Las Vegas to blow $60 on a tiny steak. Instead, I ordered the 12-ounce ($38) Wagyu Flat Iron steak, with thyme butter and (sigh) applewood smoked bacon. I usually like my steaks unadorned, but this thing was amazing. Every bite a sensuous thrill. Worth every dollar. For a side, I got the truffle-onion macaroni and cheese, which was interesting but not as good as the other items. I tried a bite of my friend's Chilean sea bass, and it gets a thumbs-up too. Everyone else seemed to enjoy their meals.
The meal overall was a great success, once everybody showed up. The food was very good but not spectacular, and the service far exceeded expectations.
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