Las Vegas - 2
Wynn's wonderful for workout and well-being. First workout, the gym on the first floor, American style, of the resort. It has enormous areas, but not big enough when it comes to weights. This is typically the case in U.S. right now. Far too many people want weights for the number of weights. And young ladies with wonderful bodies seem to requisition sometimes three pairs of weights for themselves. After her short workout, Girlahead helped herself to a perfect banana and made the way back 200 meters along an art-decorated corridor to the well-labelled correct elevator block and home.
Well-being, in the form of food, this time at own-run Pisces, pronounced Pie-sees. The night before it was taken over by Preferred, 400 guests in shifts. Tonight there are no big but even so the outside terrace and high-ceilinged inside area were full – an upper-level interior wasn’t operating. Our party sat inside, which, despite all-wall windows, did admittedly somewhat dilute the theatre of being right next to a thematic pool, itself in front of a 12m-tall cliff which from time to time became backcloth for supposedly-3D heads or a rainbow of parallel waterfalls . There was everything you can think of, water-related, on the menu, plus one each of the main animal proteins for good measure.
Wynn’s people, from designers to other workers, are wonderful. During dinner both the boss of The Americas, Brian Guillbrants, and his equally high-performance colleague Mark Carnazzola popped by.
Girlahead loved the amuse. Water from a miniature glass carafe poured around a pair of one-bites, a salmon and caviar sandwich, and a caviar cone, thus setting off the dry ice stored below. Appetizers were an oval dish of thinnest salmon sashimi liberally topped with truffle, and an enormous oval mound, parmesan shavings apparently hiding Caesar. The latter was a best-seller, said a manager, who promised the same, for a Dover sole, when it came to the entrées. Successfully lured, we shared the latter. To be honest, a Dover sole does present better when it’s still on the bone, and sauce-free, but the accompanying truffle-topped mash raised the overall appreciation no end – as did glasses of Ch Sainte Marguerite Cru Classé Côtes de Provence Symphonie. And boy, the finishing tastes of dessert would have compelled a re-eat on the morrow if the diary had allowed. It didn’t. So If Wishes Were Fishes (salted caramel ganache layer cake with warm fudge sauce) and Dubai Chocolate Rocher (a dark chocolate block embedded with white chocolate ‘fish bones’ that melted when pistachio semifreddo was poured over) have to remain one-time glimpses of heaven. We never even tasted the best-seller, a Warm Olive Cake To Share (it comes cut into eight segments, with Amalfi lemon cream).
As must by now be apparent, Wynn Las Vegas is a mecca for foodies – there’s a whole weekend of buffet-style gourmet grazing coming up mid-September. For now, sadly, the one-nighter who’s known as Girlahead had to be on her way. After breakfast. Tableau doesn’t open until seven but thanks to server Armando and others she was out by 7.30. White linens, green-rimmed Legle china and single red roses were the order of the day in this extraordinary space, lollipop-shaped and pool view. It’s predominantly a brunch menu (?post all-night playing the tables?) but Girlahead pounced on the colourful granola parfait, with yogurt – looks Greek but isn’t, said Armando. It’s worth noting that chairs’ cream leather oval backs have unique Picasso cartoons, full colour. As she left, dressed in travel-goes-to-dinnerparty-at-destination – our traveller went through the stylish conservatory, a real-life Rousseau of greenery and big orange koi. Up she clambered, unaided, into another of Wynn’s gold-embossed adult baby-carriages, and she was off. To the airport, where Delta’s departure area is a reminder how sordid the rest of Las Vegas is – below.
