fortunate discoveries by accident

Bouchon Las Vegas, Part 2

nobody@vox.com(karen) — Sun, 24 Aug 2008 12:09:50 -0700

For those of you who missed the first chapter of my road trip restaurant saga, Xav and I took the kids to Bouchon Las Vegas and had an exceedingly mediocre dinner for which we paid a fortune. That story is here.

After I wrote that post, Debbie encouraged me to tell the Keller people my story and provided a link for me to do so. I immediately received a great response from their PR person who wrote:

"Thank you so much for your email and comments! While I was extremely disappointed to hear that you had a negative dining experience at Bouchon, I truly appreciate your taking the time to let us know about it. I am very sorry about this unfortunate incident; it is definitely atypical and uncharacteristic of the level of cuisine and service that we pride ourselves in providing our guests.

I am forwarding your email to Chef Keller, as well as our managers at Bouchon, in order for them to discuss this matter with you directly. Please let me know if there is anything I can do in the meantime."

Honestly, for me this could have been the end of it. Her note was nice, professional and made me feel listened to. End of story. Except that the Bouchon general manager also sent me an email:

"I am the General Manager of Bouchon, Las Vegas and I would like to respond about your recent visit in the form of a written letter.

If you will allow me to do so, may I have your address please? I appreciate your time and attention that you have given us.

Sincerely,"

(I'm not including names in this post)

Wow. A real letter? Like on paper and with a stamp? How quaint. But maybe it could be nice. I wrote him back to say it was completely unnecessary to write me (and BTW, my preference is for email) but gave him my address. I kept my expectations low.

This weekend I received the letter:

"Dear Mrs. Carbonnet,

I truly appreciate the time you took to write of your dining experience at Bouchon Las Vegas. I am sorry that you were disappointed with your experience at Bouchon. We pride ourselves with providing excellent cuisine, as well as service, and I apologize that we did not succeed that evening you dined with us in Las Vegas.

Please accept our apologies and find enclosed a dinner voucher for your next visit with us here in Las Vegas. Please do not hesitate to contact me personally at (phone number deleted) so I can assist you in making reservations.

Sincerely,"

And true to his word he included a voucher in the letter, undoubtedly the reason he wanted my physical address. Care to guess the amount? Let me save you the suspense: $50

I'll wait here a minute for you to stop laughing too.

The thing is, I was never looking for money. Furthermore I told both him and the PR person that I wasn't looking for money. In truth, I wasn't even looking for a dialog.

But now of course I'm offended. Instead of listening to me, addressing my concerns and letting it go with some personal correspondence, they tried to buy my good will for $50. Fifty dollars to eat in a restaurant where the cheapest bottle of wine is $100. Where a bowl of olives costs $6.50. A place where I have already spent $300. And to top it off, the voucher is embossed to prevent forgery and comes with a number of caveats - cannot be used for New Year's Eve, nor for gratuity, only at Bouchon Las Vegas, etc. The whole thing felt quite formulaic, to say the least.

I only stayed mad for a little while. As a marketing person I figure this guy probably deals with extortionists all the time - people looking for whatever freebies they can get. And perhaps he's become jaded and didn't believe me when I said I didn't want money.

I sent the voucher back.

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When good chefs go bad (or maybe just AWOL)

nobody@vox.com(karen) — Wed, 06 Aug 2008 23:52:07 -0700

Ever since I started hanging around with foodies I've dreamed of eating at a Thomas Keller restaurant. Like many, I dialed in to the French Laundry reservation line precisely 90 days to the day before I wanted to eat, only to be told at 10:05 am that they were already sold out. I get it, it's a cult and you need connections.

I had done the same dialing game for Gary Danko and been hugely disappointed by the actual dinner, so I should have known better, but too many of my respected peers had eaten there for me to pass Thomas Keller off as a fad.

After doing some research on Las Vegas restaurants, Xav asked me to try to get us in to Bouchon, Keller's Vegas "French Bistro." They were able to get us in at 8:30 which surprised us both, but then we thought, hey it's Wednesday, mid-week is always easier.

We woke up early and pushed ourselves to get out early and make the eight hour drive in time. We didn't loiter at gas stops and ate lunch in the car. We arrived in time to dress up like young ladies (except for Xav, of course). I lectured the girls sternly about being on their best behavior and how little monkeys don't get to go to Cirque du Soleil the next day. We arrived at the restaurant a few minutes early. It was full, but not packed. They were able to give us a booth. And crayons.

Okay, modern brasseries in the US often give kids crayons to write on the paper table cloths, so I guess that's okay. It seems a bit strange for a french upscale restaurant in Vegas but no worries. I can be flexible.

The menu looked wonderful and we had a hard time making a selection. I ordered a martini to get more time. Okay and also to drink a martini because it's Vegas after all, baby.

After some negotiation we agreed on the melon salad with white anchovies and salmon tartare to start. Yes, I know that most of you are thinking "Melon WITH White Anchovies"? What are white anchovies? Are you pregnant?

Yes, I don't know and no. Good lord no. But I like little fish and I have declared this summer the summer of small fish. Smelt, anchovies, fried or fresh, with lemon or without. I love them. So was melon an unusual pairing choice? Yes, but it's Thomas Keller, remember. I trust him implicitly to figure it out.

Except no.

It was awful. For one thing there were no anchovies. They had been chopped up into bits and made into sauce. Which might make it technically qualify as a Caesar expect for the very odd choice of lettuce that arrived as a kind of loaf with hard bitter centers that were impossible to eat. The waiter assured us that "some people love it!" implying of course that we were just idiots. Then there was the Melon. Six small balls of melon the size of chick peas. Some other kind of fruit, unrecognizable and red (not cherries). All covered in the famous white anchovy SAUCE. Net net: it was bland and strange and pretty in it's own way. The waiter tried to make it up to us. He gave me anchovies on the side and then finally took the charge off our bill. He brought us an endive & fuji apple salad which was nice and safe.

For the main course the girls split a chicken rotis with fries, I had the mussels and Xav had a steak. All of which was totally edible if unremarkable and certainly not worth the (get ready) $300 bill. The $111 bottle of wine was tasty enough, and one of our only choices as the least expensive.

We were disappointed. And we had to ask ourselves, when was the last time Thomas Keller actually ate here?

Never before tonight did I think Mr. Keller was the kind of guy who would sell out. Put his incredible name and reputation on a restaurant and then walk away. And to be fair, maybe it was just a bad night. Maybe the chef called in sick and the rest of the staff had to make do. But as far as I know this is how they like it in Vegas.

On the way back to the hotel, the cabbie earned the last word on the whole evening: Xav said "I can go round trip around Manhattan for $20, why does it cost so much to take a cab down the strip in Las Vegas?" And the cabbie said, with a straight face, "Because we want your money."

Well you got it from us tonight, Mr. Keller, but quite possibly for the last time.

(Update is here.)

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