...some like it haute

Once in a while I can participate in the rituals of “fine dining” and even, on special occasions, seek it out. In Las Vegas there is a new branch of Lawry’s that drew me in and both the food and the service were excellent, but their attempt at holding on to the niceties of another era, and the rituals thereof, is a tad annoying while, at the same time, interesting and bemusing. It’s a type of gustatory show-biz in which certain restaurants are still desperately trying to appeal to the snob in all of us, and Lawry’s mostly succeeds.

Here are the rituals upheld: although it was a Monday night and only 6:00, and the restaurant was glaringly about one-eighth occupied, we were nonetheless asked to wait approximately 20-minutes, which was just fine since having a drink was part of our intended dining experience anyway and the bar was sufficiently dark, murky and opulent. When the required 18-minutes passed congenially, and we were called to the dining room, I didn’t entirely do my part because I carried my own drink to the table but I got even by elegantly lifting my feet when our table for six (we were two) was glided back into place after allowing us total freedom to sit down comfortably in our heavily upholstered banquette. When any wait-staff asks to carry my drink I never know if it’s a genuine offer of service or if it’s just because they think a dodderer like me might inadvertently heave it into the lap of a fellow diner.

Anyway, the salad was prepared at the table in a pair of whirling metal bowls, one inside the other (the top bowl rests on a slush of ice). The gentle metallic noise was a background for the sing-song presentation from our salad wench who explained every step. Two things made me chuckle at this point. One, we were grandly and pretentiously presented with pre-chilled salad forks and, two, instead of the usual giant pepper mill fluttering over our leafy concoctions, a little rack of plastic jars containing various Lawry’s spices was placed within our line of vision. Yes, that Lawry’s. The spice people.

Lawry’s, the restaurant, is primarily a prime rib joint (I saw lobster afoot), albeit preciously so. The meat is served from a very large, handsome, rolling serving cart (with a brushed metal lid) which displays standing prime rib roasts in various stages of rarity. I chose the “English cut” which consists of three thinly sliced pieces of very juicy meat, served (with cloying flair) by a chef in an haute toque. He then crowded the beef with a large mound of mashed potatoes (with a generous lake of gravy) and fresh peas. I also had a side of asparagus (nicely steamed) with hollandaise. It was a very nice meal and I think as typically American as you can find anywhere; despite the sideways swipe at the old sod. Substitute a really good meatloaf for that prime rib and it would be a classic. As it was the meal was fine but expensive, but maybe worth it depending on one’s mood. The portions were more than adequate and sated the appetite and, since I’m a typical victim of branding, it did give me a hankering for some good Lawry’s garlic pepper to take home. But darn it, there’s no gift shop or, at least, I didn’t see one. I’ll pick up some of those spices at my local Key Food supermarket this week; they’re probably cheaper there anyway.