SO. MANY. STEAKHOUSES.

   Speaking of beef, yours truly has maintained for thirty years that every restaurant in Vegas would be a steakhouse if it could be, and The Venetian/Palazzo seems hellbent on proving me right. In less than a month, three new ones (Bazaar Meat by José Andrés, COTE, and Boa) all opened within a two-minute walk from each other, bringing the total number of carnivore emporiums inside the complex to six. Bazaar Meat brings with it the most intrigue since for the past ten years, it's been a bastion of prime stuck in a less than choice hotel (Sahara). With flashy new digs on the ground floor of the Palazzo, it boasts a similar menu, a huge front and center bar,  two large dining rooms and an open kitchen in front in  which you can examine the premium/pricey cuts ready to be Josper-grilled to your cholesterol-enhancing satisfaction.

    They tell me menu changes will be made, but from where we sat, the pan con tomate, jamon Iberico de Bellota de pata negra, steak tartare, tomato tartare, air bread "Philly cheese steak" sandwiches, and vaca vieja (8-10 year old Black Angus, aged on the hoof) steaks, are as fine as ever (right). You can appreciate Bazaar Meat as a steakhouse, a Spanish restaurant, or a wine and tapas bodega (with corresponding price points), and be assured of a fine time. Our last meal here was comprised of only "little snacks" and "little sandwiches" all of which are priced well under twenty bucks. Be advised though, those prime cuts get way north of a hundred bucks in a hurry. Go with a group and split the cost to get the most bang for your buck.

COTE is a steakhouse of a different slice. Korean barbecue to be precise, where the meat is pre-cut and cooked in front of you. Right next door to Delmonico and only a chip shot from CUT, it aims to capture the "We're looking for a vibe-y experience without steak" crowd––the same folks who consider Papi Steak (with sparklers in its steaks) and STK (with its DJ-curated incessant din) the ne plus ultra of a meal on the town.

    But COTE throws these party-goers a curve ball by actually being food-focused, as opposed to a glorified nightclub with obscenely-priced meat. Its vibe was honed by Simon Kim in New York City, where, in 2017,  he captured the zeitgeist of the time by combining a dark, moody vibe with superior cuts of Korean barbecue and a world-class wine list. Faster than you can say bulgogi, the world beat a path to his door. As concepts go, this one is born to travel, and this fourth incarnation (after NYC, Singapore and Miami) is sure to hit with both gastronauts and food fashionistas.

    From a person-of-a-certain-age perspective, the lighting isn't that dark, the music not intrusive, and the booths as comfortable as booths can be. They cook the meat for you here over smokeless grills, and the choices are geared to steer you to one of two tastings: and $88.88/pp "Butcher's Feast" or the $225/pp "Steak Omakase." Our group of famished flesh eaters found the smaller menu more than enough, with its four cuts of various fattiness more than enough to overwhelm our livers. The limited banchan  still  earned our Korean companions' seal of approval, as did the shochu offerings. Of the various sides and apps we tried, some––Korean "bacon," Caesar salad––were fine but unmemorable, and the kimchi wagyu "paella" felt like nothing more than a misnamed plop of spiced rice. The wine list is truly impressive, with prices to match, natch.

PLANTING A SEED

    The name––Stubborn Seed––is, depending on your generosity of spirit, either confusing or really stupid, since it tells you nothing about what to expect. Perhaps it makes more sense in Miami Beach, where Chef Jeremy Ford made it big, won a TV cooking competition then got recruited to bring his concept to Resorts World in hopes of enhancing his brand and the foodie the cred of the hotel. Confused you may be as you walk to your seat, but several bites in, seated in full view of the large brightly-lit window framing the kitchen, you will realize you are in for something special––a different sort of restaurant, featuring high-wire, aggressive, veggie-focused (but not strictly vegetarian) cooking unlike any in town.

    Ford's claim to fame is the intricate mixing of food metaphors, playing with odd combinations (and lots of leafy accents) that always seem to work. Thus will you find carrots charred with jerk seasonings and spiced yogurt, and a whole cauliflower roasted with a cashew puree, then garnished with seemingly every herb in the garden. House-cured olives come with a festoon of fried jamon Iberico,  yellowtail crudo is cured by sake and citrus, and small pasta pyramids of harissa lamb fagottelli get gussied up with a ginger tomato emulsion, sweet hot peppers, pine nut dukkah and crispy leeks. This is high-wire cooking without a net and Ford and his crew clearly have the chops for it.

    His proteins don’t miss many beats either: a foie gras/truffle tart reminds you of a glorified PB&J; branzino in nutty brown butter and hazelnuts, is a worthy upgrade of an often boring fish, and a slow-cooked smoked beef rib (priced-to-sell at $85) are as good as anything you’ll find in most steakhouses. None of this is cheap (the rib runs $80), but compared to most Strip restaurants these days, $145 for a set tasting menu feels like a bargain. You can also downsize by going à la carte, which is how to get the crispy, charred double-smash burger with "crave" sauce ($28), which should not be missed. Desserts––peanut butter/fudge brownie candy bar, olive oil cake citrus Pavlova with caramelized pistachios, warm snickerdoodle cookie with toasted barley ice cream––pull out all the stops and hit all their marks, impressing even this jaded palate.

    Stubborn Seed is definitely the most compelling Strip restaurant to open this year, full of interesting ideas and flavor combinations which delightfully challenge your taste buds without intimidating them. We are rooting for it to find an audience.

SUBCONTINENT SUPERSTAR

    Calvin Trillin once wrote that the average Italian restaurant gets more customers in a night than a good Indian joint sees in a month.  Indian food – one of the world’s great cuisines –  has been so underrepresented in America as to be almost invisible. Urban areas have their generic tandoori parlors and AYCE buffets, but for decades that was about it. But the tide may be turning. The elegant, sophisticated Indian cuisine of the sub-continent might be having a moment, here and elsewhere, and in Las Vegas, Tamba is leading the way.

    Located in the Town Square shopping mall south of the Strip, Tamba has as much in common with your standard, cookie cutter curry shop as a Bentley does with a Dodge Dart. This is apparent from the moment you step inside. Instead of cliché-ed decor and nonstop Bollywood videos, what confronts you is a subtle, subdued restaurant of overstuffed chairs, refined tableware and an eye-popping bar that would be right at home in the Bellagio.

    Once you are seated, Chef Anand Singh flies you around the sub-continent (and across the Pacific rim), dabbling in everything from upscale tuna sushi with smoked sea salt to artichoke sashimi to a Hakka noodle stir-fry. Spicings are precise, presentations polished, and the multi-layered flavorings a revelation.  A one-curry-fits-all stop this is not. You can go traditional with an intriguing hand-folded Samosa Chaat (stuffed with curried chickpeas, masala-spiked potatoes and tangy pomegranates), dry-spiced lamb chops, or soothing butter chicken, or test the kitchen's more modern chops with its takes on grilled Afghani saffron paneer, banana leaf-wrapped sea bass, or grilled octopus with purple cauliflower. Either way you will be wondering where all these spices have been hiding. You can also be assured that whatever hits your table will be like nothing Vegas has ever tasted.

    Upscale Indian restaurants like this have been in England for a century, and updated takes on this food have been the rage in London for twenty years. Vegas may be late to the party, but with Tamba and, later this year, the arrival of  Gymkanha to the Aria, Las Vegas may be maturing into a deeper appreciation of broad range of ingredients, techniques, and flavor packed into these dishes. Whatever magic spice Singh and manager Olivier Morowati have concocted seems to be working. (Grinding and mixing all of their masalas and curries in house is part of the secret.) Whatever the alchemy, local foodies have taken to this place like naan to a tandoor, portending, perhaps, the long overdue celebration of one of the world's most fascinating cuisines.

       After a few moments of stunned silence, Katie said, “Is it really possible Louise Jourdan is Judith Baer?”
       The hotel employees had no idea what she was talking about, but Catherine explained briefly that Judith Baer was a doctor at the Pasteur Institute who had obtained samples of the virus and studied it, linking it to a Russian laboratory.
       “You mean, this Dr. Baer is working with the Russians?” asked the concierge.
       The Americans didn’t want to say too much to the hotel employees, so Catherine said it just sounded like Louise Jourdan seemed to look something like Dr. Baer, then, thanking them profusely, showed them out.
       “This seems incredible,” said Katie. “Why would Baer have anything to do with attacking the Victoire?”
       “And pose under the name Louise Jourdan?” asked Catherine.
       David was thinking while the women shared speculations, then said, “The fact that the Victoire is not Saudi-owned or  a deluxe a hotel like the others makes me think this attack had nothing to do with the Russians or their stash of the virus. I think that, for whatever reasons, Baer  might have used the virus from her own lab to attack the hotel. I know it sounds crazy but it’s putting two and two together.”
       “Should we call Borel?” asked Catherine.
       “We should, but, Katie, I think we should try to speak with Baer first, don’t you?”
       “You mean just out-and-out accuse her of being Louise Jourdan and attacking a hotel with a virus? It just doesn’t seem like something an established scientist would do within her own field.”
       “Well, remember Gorgo Toth?” said David, referring to a Hungarian pharmaceutical magnate who had tried to poison David while he and Katie were on an investigation two years before.
       “How could I forget!” said Katie. “But what would Baer have to gain—or lose—from such an act? If discovered, she’d be jailed and ruin a lifelong reputation as a dedicated scientist.”
       “There’s only one way to find out, and that’s by trying to go see her. Obviously, she’s been contacted by the health officials to be in on the case, as she was before. So, if we can get to see her, we can begin by asking her about this new attack and why the virus seems to be weaker than the previous one. She might very well want to make a show to the press—us—that she’s on the case and working to find out more about the virus. She has no way of knowing what we’ve heard so far about Louise Jourdan.”
       Katie turned to Catherine and said, “Catherine, I hope you don’t hate me if I ask you not to come along with us to see Baer, assuming we can see her. It’s just that you haven’t seen her before and she might be spooked.”
       Catherine said, “I completely understand, Katie, as long as you share what you find as soon as you get out of the interview, promise?”
       Katie crossed her heart  then crossed David’s.

       Katie dialed the direct number Dr. Baer had given her and was relieved when the physician picked up the phone. Without mentioning the Louise Jourdan connection, Katie asked if she and David could interview her about the new virus. Thinking that Baer could have easily given her the new information over the phone, Katie was surprised that Baer asked if they could come right over.
       Within fifteen minutes they were at the Institut, and the lobby attendant said Dr. Baer was expecting them and brought them straight to her office. She was not wearing a lab coat, dressed instead casually in black slacks and a dark blue turtleneck sweater. She was putting folders into an attaché case, and Katie and David saw that her desk had been cleared of all papers.
       With her usual coolness, Baer said, “Please sit down. As you can see I am leaving soon.”
       “On holiday?” asked Katie.
       “No, I am moving to Israel and semi-retiring to do some work for the Public Health Ministry in Tel Aviv.”
       Katie showed no other reaction than to say, “Well, I suppose I should congratulate you, Doctor.”
       “Thank you, but you came to hear about the new virus?”
       “Yes, is there anything you can tell us?”
       “It appears to be a milder form than the first Russian samples. It is only about as dangerous as the seasonal flu, as far as I can tell. No one has died from the first incidents, so I don’t expect any to do so this time.”
       “So,” asked David, “ is it likely this new one  also came from the Russians?”
       “That I could not tell you without further study. I’m sure my colleagues here at the Institute will find out soon enough. And that is really all I can tell you.”
       Katie and David sensed that what Baer had just told them could have been relayed in under a minute on the phone. Why would Baer want them to come to the Institut to receive such basic information?   Katie began to think that there was more Baer wanted her to know and that she and David only had to pry a little further.
       “Well, I don’t want to keep you, Doctor, but can you think of any reason an individual—if it was not the Russians—would plant such a virus in a non-Saudi hotel?”
       Judith Baer raised her chin and closed her eyes for a moment, looking somehow relieved of a burden, but she said nothing.
       David leaned in and asked, “Dr. Baer, are you familiar with the name Louise Jourdan?”
       The woman put her fingers together and said, “Yes, people of my age know who Louise Jourdan is. She was a hero of the French Resistance.”
       Baer took a handkerchief from her bag and kept it in her closed hands.
    “I knew her quite well,” she said. “We grew up together in the 1930s. We lived in the same Jewish neighborhood. Later, quite late in the war, she was taken away by the Nazis and sent to a concentration camp, and I lost track of her. But before that, she had a very difficult, very complicated life.”
       “Can you tell us more about her life?” asked Katie.
       Twisting the handkerchief in her fingers, Judith Baer began to tell the story of Louise Jourdan.