One set of doors back onto the casino floor featured full-length portraits of a smiling porter holding a mop and a restaurant server placing a bowl of strawberries on a table, along with the somewhat cryptic legend, “This Is the Life We Inspire.”Īngibeau led us briskly through the maze. A poster advised:ĪPPEAR APPROACHABLE MAKE EYE CONTACT GREET THE GUEST BEFORE THEY GREET YOU We passed stacks of moribund slot machines waiting for repair employee cafeterias and lounges and offices for Uniform Control, Accounting, and Horticulture. Yellow motorized carts zipped down long hallways running in each direction. We ducked through a set of inconspicuous doors and into the vast shadow casino that exists behind and beneath the sparkly one the public sees. Angineau, 44, is from the far southeast corner of France, just outside Monaco, trim, and very French. The Bellagio’s Executive Pastry Chef Philippe Angibeau met me near the Bellagio Buffet. But at the time, when the idea of dining on the Strip still brought to mind massive buffets and signs touting $3.99 PRIME RIB!!!, it seemed improbable, if not faintly ridiculous. These days, when every restaurant group in the country seems to have a Vegas outpost, this seems completely natural. In addition to adopting the appearance of a Lake Como palazzo, it featured an art museum, the soon-to-be-iconic acrobatic fountains, and, most strikingly, 17 restaurants-many of them high-end names imported from New York and San Francisco. The Bellagio, opened by casino magnate Steve Wynn, was designed to change all that. For the previous decade the city had been distancing itself from the adult pleasures on which it had been founded, marketing itself instead as a family destination, with casinos shaped like cartoon castles, Egyptian pyramids, and bizarro New York skylines topped by rollercoasters-more Mickey Mouse than Rat Pack. I first tasted this almond croissant in 1998, not long after the Bellagio opened. There is one exception: I tell them to go to the Bellagio Hotel and Casino and eat an almond croissant. Still, when people ask me for Vegas recommendations, I draw a blank-all the shiny casino restaurants imported from New York and California blurring into one long perfectly fine meal I wish I had enjoyed somewhere else.

I’ve visited semi-regularly over the years-like a penny tumbling toward the bottom of a sofa, every American finds themself in Las Vegas a certain number of times in their life-and I know that I have managed to feed myself and even to write about doing so. Somehow I can never remember any of them.

There are a lot of good things to eat in Las Vegas.

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