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| - The only thing better than hearing "We have a full bar" when you go out at night is hearing "We have a full ESPRESSO bar" the next morning.
I sipped on a cup of foamy cappuccino on the patio of Mon Ami Gabi at Paris looking idly over at the Italian Lake Bellagio. The world suddenly felt smaller. Only in Vegas.
A short complimentary baguette started up our appetite, followed by our order of Fall Mushroom Soup, poured at the table into a bowl of creme fraiche, chives, and dried mushrooms. It prepared our palate perfectly for the rest of the meal.
The next dish, Housemade Country Paté, fell a bit short, needing flavor and a softer texture if one hopes to spread it onto the accompanying toast. It came topped with whole grain mustard and flanked by pickled mini cucumbers, pearl onions, and olives.
The Duck Leg Confit compensated by being perfectly cooked, tenderly shredding under the fork. The flavors met all expectations I had for this classic French favorite. It was accompanied by a bed of lentils.
Vegas is a paradoxical portal into a world of vulgarity and refinement, and at Mon Ami Gabi, I started the day with the latter, although I can't promise my escapades didn't end with the former.
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