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| - I don't watch TV and the only food I can make comes out of a toaster. I had no idea the "Giada" in the name of this place referred to a renowned woman with many culinary (and cultural) accolades - I genuinely found out who she was about 45 minutes after arriving at The Cromwell for our 7:15 reservations, which is even more amazing/depressing when you stop and realize I was the one who booked the reservation for our meal last Friday night. Nonetheless, for a guy on the outside of pop culture cooking looking in, Giada managed to impress me from presentation to service, while the food definitely delivered on the reputation this gal has made for herself.
Giada sits at the top of a couple escalators, or at the end of a very lengthy white hallway, if you take the elevator, in The Cromwell. I actually suggest taking the elevator because I imagine making that extended walk is how football players feel on their way to the field, or how surgeons get heading for the operating room: lives are about to be changed through that hallway and Facebook photos will undoubtedly be posted. Once you get to the entrance, it's a surprisingly small waiting room to the left of a hostess desk flanked by a duo of dashing young ladies that have style to burn. You can rest on a couple of sofa cushions, head to the right where the bar and bathrooms are, or you could stop in the photobooth near the sofas to kill time and post a few wacky pictures to Facebook - bonus points are awarded (not really) if you are wearing a shirt that makes you blend in with the wallpaper in this booth, like I did (without my maroon sweater vest, I think I would have looked like a disembodied floating head against that background).
We were slightly early for our reservation but in no time at all, a hostess escorted us (still ahead of our time! Score!) to our table in the window overlooking The Strip. The dining room is kind of tiered, with the bar at the top and the dining rooms unfolding outward, blending in chairs and horseshoe-style booths. Now is a good time to mention that the view here cannot be beat if you're in the window seats: major brownie points can only be won with your date when The Bellagio's water show kicks into action across the street and you're on your third bottle of wine.
Our server, along with all the food runners and bussing staff, were attentive without being overwhelming. Following our technological snafu with the "interactive drink menu" (read: an iPad), our server got us started with orzo meatballs, a margherita flatbread, a beet-and-apple salad and a couple rounds of this awesome bread combo. I never got to try the flatbread (the four pieces in it were scarfed down quickly) but those meatballs made me question how I've gone this long in life without eating them. Kind of like how I managed to live all these years without tasting lobster ravioli like the kind from here - that ravioli was heavenly, and everyone else expressed similar sentiments for their tortellini and pappardelle dishes.
Before dessert could arrive and threaten to end my life right there via caloric overload, I escaped to the bathroom. This has nothing to do with anything, but aside from being spotless, these were also the best smelling bathrooms I've ever been in. I'm tempted to start doing my laundry in one of the stalls if I could figure out how to get there on a regular basis from Dallas.
With eyes bigger than our stomachs, we opted for a selection of "Giada's favorite cookies." I can safely say this woman knows fine taste: chocolate chip was what you'd expect, the peanut butter (and jelly!) were a pleasant surprise, but the lemon ricotta cookies... I'm not a "dessert person" but I think I actually wept while eating those. Tears of happiness and savoriness, mind you.
If there are any nitpicks to make, they are minor. Management was scattered about and did not seem to put too much worth on the customer experience: I think I saw a manager talk to two, maybe three tables. That's unfortunate for a spot like this, as I would like to see the "higher ups" at the least asking how everything is, and possibly even displaying a personality and/or a pulse. I also don't know what to think about the special dinner that comes with an autographed picture of Giada herself. It's a cute promotion but, if Giada, or her PR people are reading this, this place is better than that kind of gimmick.
Again, totally minor, practically inconsequential critiques to be made. Sure, the price can be steep if you do not do your homework but look at the complete package: friendly servers and hostesses, a priceless view and a menu that made a believer out of a guy who had no idea who the woman behind everything was. That last part alone should be enough to get your foot in the door if you are even slightly considering this destination on your next Vegas trip.
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