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The Steakhouse at Camelot at the Excalibur

By: The Lady of The Night Out

Why should you eat at The Steakhouse?

Since my youngest is 25, I don’t spend much time at the Excalibur. But I’ve found a very adult reason to visit the castle… and it’s not those beefy Thunder from Down Under guys. But it does have something to do with beef: The Steakhouse at Camelot dry ages its own meat. Mirabile dictu! The aging room is right there in the restaurant lobby. You can see the slabs of meat tenderizing before your eyes.

Drying aging is a very big deal. Even though there are dozens of fine steakhouses in LVNV, to my knowledge, there are only three other places in LVNV to get a dry aged steak: Smith & Wollensky, Gallagher’s at New York New York, and the Steakhouse at TI.

Here’s why dry aging is such a big deal. Most fine steakhouses wet age their beef for 28 days. That means the beefs age in warehouses with humidity as high as 85 percent – you know, like Houston or Miami. If you’ve eaten at Morton’s of Chicago, the Palm or Ruth Chris’, you know the luscious limpidness of wet aged beef.

But the Steakhouse at Camelot goes one step further. It locks its steer up in that glass cage that’s as dry as desert day. Gallagher’s dry ages its meat on the casino floor for a week, but the Steakhouse at Camelot ages its meat a full 28 days. Dry aging forces the restaurant to throw away 25 percent of the steak. But the steak that’s left – the taste is so rich it will rock your socks off. And you can eat this steak on an airplane because it’s so tender you don’t need a knife. I christen these steaks “the Mercedes of meat.”

Dry aging is serious stuff. Executive chef Brian Diumenti monitors the temperature of the aging room, as well as all the coolers, with a Palm Pilot he carries with him 24/7.

Who Should Eat at Steakhouse?

Carnivores. According to the menu, less than two percent of USDA beef earns the prime label. And then the restaurant does its aging magic. Do the math and you’ll see you’re in for a treat.
Romantics. While the beef at Gallagher’s and Smith and Wollensky -- two New York City satellites on the Strip-- is comparable, their atmosphere recreates Times Square at rush hour. Why not get the same steak in a room with subdued lighting and live piano music? I can’t imagine a man pulling out a ring at the first two. But there’s no question this is the place to pop the question.
Discriminating diners. Since Clark County health regs don’t allow chefs to host dinners in the kitchen, the Steakhouse at Camelot built a special room that shares a glass wall with the kitchen. Dinners inform the chef in advance how much money they want to spend and what foods are taboo. Then the chef cooks a special meal his way. The food is a surprise. How fun!
Adventurous eaters. If you haven’t had the pleasure to sample buffalo, camp out at Camelot. Chef Brian serves sushi-thin slices of smoked buffalo tenderloin, topped with a slick garlic chive aioli (the homemade French version of ultra-thin mayo.) (No, it doesn’t taste like chicken!) Chef Brian knows how to wrangle with buffalo since he lived in North Dakota for six hours.
The fress to impress clientele. It’s no surprise that Chef Brian knows how to take a six inch slab of meat and sear it crispy on the outside and perfectly pink at the center. (The menu says his grill hits 1200 degrees.) But I was continually surprised at his clever touches: he served snails in a fondue pot, complete with those arms-length prongs. And the chocolate lava cake, LVNV’s au currant de rigueur dessert, is encased in a pyre of chocolate timbers.
Pyromaniacs. Three waiters are certified pyromaniacs. I mean they know how to flambé your dessert without singing your eyebrows or theirs.
Oyster connoisseurs. The Steakhouse serves slimy, slick, slithery – in other words, perfect – Malapeg oysters on the half shell. Chef Brian serves three sauces with his Prince Edward Island beauties.
Diners demanding over the top service. One of the restaurant’s trademarks is lifting the silver bells sheltering the entrees simultaneously – an old tradition that deserves reviving.
Seafood lovers and vegans. The restaurant has a wide selection of seafood. And Chef Brian is big on veggies. (All steaks this time of year come with smoked asparagus.) Just ask.
People who like magic. A roving magician comes to your table. He’s very talented but he couldn’t make my bill vanish.

Who shouldn’t eat at The Steakhouse?

Parents. Leave the kids at home unless they can behave. The only whines appropriate are the vinified variety.
Folks on a budget. The food is worth every penny, but the Steakhouse can be pricey. Locals used to cheap steaks will choke on the prices. Dry aging is an expensive process. Make this your anniversary spot.
Smokers. The bar is the only real estate with ash trays.
Singles. Some restaurants – like Del Frisco’s, Olives, Roy’s and Le Cirque – have seats at the bar where it’s fun to strike up a conversation with the foodie next to you. Not here. You have to dine alone in this romantic spot.

Ok, so what’s the food like? So what does an aged steak taste like? Slightly crisp on the outside, buttery, juicy, flavorful, intense on the inside. There’s an overlay of gaminess. The New York Strip is a great choice. Love the sherry-soaked giant mushroom perched on top like a flag.

When you deal with raw materials this rare, you don’t want to add any distractions. So, I assumed the New York Fromage steak was a culinary abomination until I savored the first bite. Why would you want to melt Roquefort cheese and a forest of smoked asparagus on top of a beautiful New York strip? Because the big flavors of the steak interact beautifully with the pushy voices of its compadres. The whole is far greater than the sum of the parts. The Fromage is my favorite steak in Camelot, no, I mean LVNV.

The Big O award goes to the escargot, an appetizer. The traditional presentation is to broil them in their shells with garlic and butter. Here Chef Brian selected a fondue setting. He serves his snails in a Barbie doll-sized sauce pan and skewers. The snails bob in a lovely, light cheese sauce with chunks of fresh tomatoes the same size as the snails. You fish out the goodies with the skewers. Everything tastes great and it’s fun! What a delicious combo.

I also liked the lobster tempura. Tennis ball sized hunks of sweet tail meat are encased in a thick batter that’s flecked with truffles. These succulent squares are flash fried, preserving the lobster’s juiciness, and topped with a chopped mango salsa, which adds a refreshing coolness to the dish.

Lump crab meat accounts for 95 percent of the crab cakes, a deliciously high percentage. You need a microscope to find the filler. A tomato sauce spiked with horseradish gives these crabs a kick. Slice of fried tomatoes which look like wagon wheels are a tasty tiara.

The best selling salad is the steakhouse salad. It’s a mixture of finely chopped iceberg and red lettuce, Cobb style. Even though the salad is dressed in Thousand Island dressing, crisp crumbles of smoked bacon are the predominant taste. Crispy strings of fried onion rings add a down home touch.

The Caesar salad is packed into an edible shell. The salad is swimming in sardines. I ate the thin slices of parmesan cheese in the salad with my hands.

Dessert in the desert. The Steakhouse in Camelot does Bananas Foster better than Commander’s Palace across the street. That’s quite a complement since Commander’s invented the dessert. The restaurant freezes the vanilla ice cream rock hard, so it doesn’t turn to soup when the incinerated sauce hits it. The waiter sautés the bananas in the liqueur which he torches with a dramatic whoosh.

Best Waiter. Ask for Leon. He’s an accomplished waiter and a great stand-up comedian, Big Apple style. And he’s the resident fireman. Order a flambéed dessert from him. He has a great tableside manner.

Summing Up. Shh! I’m sharing a big secret: The Steakhouse at Camelot is a cut above, thanks to its dedication to dry aging. You have no idea what real steak tastes like until you sample one. But there’s a lot more to the restaurant than meat. How about snails and buffalo?

Where is it? At the Excalibur, 3850 Las Vegas Boulevard South. It’s on the restaurant level next to the buffet. 702.597.777.

By: The Culinary Curmudgeon Lady of the Night Out

We’ve been friends for awhile, but I’m still reticent to share a deep, dark secret with you: I like steak – any kind of steak – with ketchup. Hey, I grew up in the Wild West where the steer was so tough you had to slather it with A-1 or ketchup. So you can picture my quandary during my recent meal at the Steakhouse at Camelot. Here I am, staring at the most beautiful piece of beef I’d ever seen and I didn’t have the courage to ask the waiter for ketchup. The purists just wouldn’t approve. So here’s what to do if you’re breaking bread with grouchy gourmets: Stop at McDonald’s first and stuff some of those ketchup packets in your pocket. Squeeze surreptitiously when nobody’s looking and you’re all set.

You know our community is facing a serious threat from the Indian casinos. Chef Brian has found a delicious way to fight back. Eat their buffalos! Now that will show ‘em we mean business. I was surprised how truly tender smoked buffalo is. Try them tenderloins– and that’s not a bum steer.

I didn’t realize the Clark County Fire Department training facility also offers a flambé course for valley waiters. Did you know you have to be certificated to torch sauces in public? (Of course, this is an LVNV rule. Anyone can play with matches in Texas.) I wonder if the guy who sets himself on fire in the TI pirate show can use his training to torch Bananas Fosters at the Excalibur.

I’m always amused when my food arrives in an edible container. Being this show’s bon vivant, I certainly know how to extract salad from an edible plate. But everyone else at the table was confused about how to eat the Caesar salad. The great fear was a misplaced fork would shatter a side of the vessel, causing the well-dressed leaves to land in your lap. The trick, of course, is to start at the top and rappel down the sides of the phyllo dough very carefully.

Las Vegas is always full of surprises. Who would have guessed a hotel that caters to kids would have a steakhouse that is a refuge from the rug rats. Let’s hear it for protein power. And I just love the feel of a place that forked over the largest slot jackpot in gaming history. Everything seems to taste better in a casino that hands out $37 million.

Aired 06 June 2003

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