Foo-Detour - CRAVINGS at The Mirage

“There have been few times in my life that I have ever been this hungry!” exclaimed John this past Sunday afternoon while trudging past Caesar’s Palace on our way to The Mirage in Las Vegas.

TIME OUT (Zach Morris Style): Questions you have right now may include…

1. What is with the funny looking Foo-Detour logo in the corner of this blog? Well, I didn’t want to just limit the scope of the blog to 99 pLAtes in Los Angeles. So, in an effort to continue and vary the posts (read: write off more meals as ‘expenses’ due to my non-profit writing venture) I’ve decided to cover some other restaurants that aren’t on the list. We’ll call them Foo-Detours. Get it…foodie+detour…brilliant I know, thought of it in the middle of the night.

2. What are you doing in Vegas? A group of nine 20-something, one 30-something and one almost-30-something (sorry Pat) headed out to Vegas this past weekend to run in an insane National Urban Scavenger Hunt competition…which is a whole different blog post…so we’ll just call it a Reunion Weekend.

3. Was John really that hungry?  
Yes – Exhibit A: He had resorted to eating paper.

 TIME IN

 


Things most people do in Vegas include: eating at any number or exclusive restaurants, taking in a Cirque-de-Soleil extravaganza or rolling the dice at high-stakes casino games.

Things this group did in Vegas include: ordered sandwiches at the not-so-exclusive Carnegie deli, watched the non-Cirque water show playing at the Bellagio and rolled the dice (health-wise) by playing flipcup in the not-so-sanitary O’Sheas Casino.

Regardless of the different vacationing styles, I wouldn’t have had it any other way…

Around 10:50am on Sunday, Stacey (small in stature but large in adventure), John and I made plans to have an early-ish brunch and then start our trek back to Los Angeles. At around 1:20pm (hence John’s famished state) we finally put that plan in action and lined up for CRAVINGS, The Mirage’s signature buffet.

Each of us had a mission…Stacey hoped to compare this buffet against the one at the Bellagio (her current favorite), I hoped they had king crab legs and John hoped to make it through the line without passing out from starvation.

“Maybe I can actually eat 99 plates worth of food” John exclaimed as we made our way past the Jazzie Scooters scattered through the dining room. Forget showgirls and the Hoover Dam, a Las Vegas buffet is really a sight to see. Imagine every possible food group available for consumption, then multiply it to the 6^th degree and you have the multiple-thousand foot long troughs of food neatly adorned with sneeze-proof glass.

“They have a noodle bar!” Stacey exclaimed, “This place is amazing!” This ain’t your neighborhood Sizzler…The noodle bar was just the first of 13 (yes a bakers dozen) food areas flanking the perimeter of a room the size of a football field. Salads, Chinese, Hot Grill, Sushi, Noodles, Fishmonger, Raw Bar, BBQ, Latin, Rotisserie, Carving, Italian and Desserts. 

After a brief huddle at the table, we decided a three-man zone offense would be the best way to tackle the field. I loaded up on seafood and Asian cuisine while Stacey made a beeline for the deli. Meanwhile, John…well he blitzed just about every other section. “They had eggs benedict over there!” he protested when questioned on his odd combination of breakfast foods and pho.

Here’s the thing about buffets…none of the food is AMAZING, it’s all sub-par. There are just a gazillion choices so your stomach never has a second to get bored (or get any oxygen for that matter). From chicken chimichangas to pan-fried potstickers...the world is literally at you taste buds.

Two plates deep, Stacey and I were starting to slow as John came back with a fresh made vegetable omelet from the chef’s grill. “I started with dinner and am ending on breakfast,” he firmly stated, “I am like the foodie Benjamin Button.”

Meanwhile, the buttons on my jeans were hanging on for dear life as I saddled up to the gelato bar for a scoop of vanilla bean (which – gasp – I could barely even finish). 

Like a gambler folding his last hand at the poker table, John conceded defeat to Cravings. Despite the glimmer in his eye as we rolled by the panini grill on our way out the door, the food comma had won out. “Can I throw up and start again?” he asked. ‘You gotta know when to walk away’ John, ‘know when to run’ (for the restrooms).

As we cruised down Tropicana Ave toward the freeway, I was reminded of our newly minted Vegas motto. “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas…until it moves on down to your love handles.”