As Frank Barone used to say, "Holy Crap!" And I mean that in a good way.
I walk into this place early on a Saturday morning and it's packed, with families, all-nighters, bikers and such. My waitress tells me later this is nothing compared to when they have conventions, the place is wall-to-wall busy.
Today, the place was hopping. And so were the waitresses, who were wearing their tight skirts that fit right into the Vegas old school. Lots of blue neon lights.
I take a seat at the counter. Yes, the service here is a little slower, but hey, I was in no hurry. Finally, my waitress offers me drink and a menu. I look at the menu and have a hard time figuring out what I want because of the various options. I pick the French Toast Ambrosia. A few minutes later, my long-legged waitress Jennifer brings me this plate of french toast that is covered with fruit and what looks like a half can of whipped cream. I'm thinking, how in the world am I going to eat all this? And as I look around, everyone else is being served huge volumes of food also. At that moment, I decided that I am going to the Peppermill every time I go to Vegas and I'm bringing my friends.
Yes, the food was very good. No, I did not finish it all. But it did make good leftovers.
How did I miss this place after all these years?