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The Carmel Room at the Rampart Casino By: The Lady of The Night Out Why should you eat at the Carmel Room? When I was growing up in Chicago during the 1950’s, the Windy City was loaded with fress to impress places. But the best restaurant in the city wasn’t in the city at all. L’Francaise was in Wheeling, a Chicago suburb 45 minutes from the Loop. Culinary history is repeating itself. Now, one of the finest restaurants in LVNV is not in Las Vegas at all. The Carmel Room at the Rampart Casino is in Summerlin. While there are plenty of restaurants lining Charleston, there are precious few fine dining establishments. It’s about time locals located in the southwest didn’t have to drive to the Strip or Henderson for a five star meal to celebrate birthdays or Valentine’s Day. Who should eat at the Carmel Room?
Who shouldn’t eat at the Carmel Room?
Ok, so what’s the food like? The crab cakes receive our “Big O” award. The cakes themselves are pure crab – executive chef Paul O’Shea uses no bread crumbs as filler. They’re so marine you can smell them before they arrive at the table. Their two pals put this dish on the map. First is the mango and papaya salsa, a colorful, chewy, fruity counterpoint to the crab. But the best part of the dish is the creamy vanilla ice cream laced with fresh cilantro. Ice cream with crab cakes? Trust me – it works brilliantly. The contrast between hot and cold, sweet and briny, spicy and subtle make the crab cakes worth the drive from Green Valley. You have to order something made on the miniature gas grill that rolls to your table on an elegant cart. I sampled a terrific duck a l’orange. The maitre d’ lights the grill which glows with a beautiful turquoise flame. He poured Grand Marnier into a copper pan. With an expect flick of his wrist the flame jumped from the burner to the pan; the Grand Marnier was now a sea of flames. He then spooned the blue fire over my duck breast, which was immediately encased in flames. (The burning duck could have been a CSI visual.) While the duck burned, the maitre d’ torched the orange sauce, spiked with Grand Marnier and bejeweled with figs, mandarin, oranges and raisins. Watching the duck incinerate, I assumed the end result would be a charred carcass. Nay. Nay. The flambé made the skin potato chip crisp and burned off all the excess grease inherent in water fowl. The end result was juicy and intense dark meat. The coquille St. Jacques – now there’s a blast from the past – mix three of the most delicious flavors from land and sea. Portabella mushrooms – grounded in their earth tones – look like they have a wig of curly red hair. That’s fresh caviar, which adds a luscious saltiness to the dish. The mushrooms sat on top of sweet scallops the size of hockey pucks. Strips of dark truffles added muskiness to the mix. A confetti of parsley added some veggie overtones to the light garlic sauce. All these different voices might have ended up a discordant mess in less skilled hands. They sang a great melody in Chef Paul’s rendition. A very modern dish is the ahi tuna, which is also finished at tableside. The raw fish is covered with sesame seeds. The maitre d’ places the tuna in the pan along with a goose liver. After the pan erupts in flames, he places the foie gras on top of the tuna so it melts into the fish. Then fresh spinach and tomatoes end up in the pan once the fire dies down. This flash searing makes the tuna astonishingly moist and the spinach wonderfully toothsome. There’s also one barbecue shrimp sitting on a salmon wedge. There’s a teriyaki glaze, served on the side, so you can decide whether to dip the various offerings. The dish is served with enoke mushrooms. They look like the forest in the Lord of the Rings film. Dessert in the desert: Bananas Foster and cherries jubilee are 1950’s favorites done well here. After all this food, we opted for the assorted fruit. Rum and Grand Marnier join hands in the pan. As soon as the fire crackles, the maitre d adds cinnamon – the shards spark. The dining room looks like the Fourth of July sky! After the pyrotechnics, three types of melon balls – they’re so fat they look like eyeballs -- as well as blueberries and strawberries are heated in the pan. The seared fruit becomes the topping for a Brandy snifter full of vanilla ice cream and cinnamon sticks. The hot fruit melts the chocolate and the ice cream to create an exotic dessert drink. History: The restaurant opened November 1, 2002, replacing the high roller room. Chef Paul’s father was a pharmacist who moved the family from Ireland to Africa. There he experienced a wild variety of food before going to hotel school in Dublin. The last word: Chef Paul told me 65 percent of the restaurant’s clientele are local repeat customers – proof that Summerlin needed a fress to impress room. I predict the Carmel Room will enter the pantheon of the Top 10 restaurants in LVNV. The food is inventive and tasty. The service is polished and expert. And the pyrotechnics make it worth the drive. Where is it? At the Rampart Casino at the Resort in Summerlin. It’s part of the J.W. Marriott. 221 N. Rampart Boulevard. 702.507.5900.  By: The Culinary Curmudgeon LVNV has more revival shows than Elmer Gantry. If casinos can pack ‘em in with Elvis impersonators and Sammy and Sinatra shows, why not do the same with food? The Rampart Casino was the first in town to cook up the ’50’s; it has a winner with its new retro room. There’s something deeply satisfying about serving items popular when Eisenhower was president. One of the bedrocks of Rat Pack cooking was food prepared at tableside. Who ever thought that was a bad idea? In my book, nothing adds some heat to a meal like a good flambé. I’ve never seen anyone start a fire as deftly as the wait staff at the Carmel Room. A simple wave of the hand and a wall of flame erupts from the burnished copper pans. The fire is so close you can feel the heat. I felt like a kid in a candy store. Who knew that cinnamon sticks explode like bottle rockets when they hit burning rum? I ordered every flambé item on the menu to watch these professionals work. Kids, don’t try this at home. I met lots of nice Clark County firemen after my preliminary attempts su casa. I think the restaurant would make a fortune holding flambé classes at the Fire Academy. True to its retro roots, the Carmel Room serves coffee with real sugar cubes. I haven’t seen a sugar cube since “Hair” created a stir on Broadway. I’d forgotten how elegant coffee service is when you not worrying blue or pink. If you are looking for a quiet getaway, the Carmel Room is not a good choice. The lounge singer attracts a noisy crowd right outside the front door. His thumping bass sounds like you just pulled up next to a near deaf teen-ager. My advice: save the intimate discussions for his 15 minute breaks. The only bad thing I can remember about the ‘50’s is you always had to wear a tie, even when having dinner at home. Very few patrons of the Rampart Casino wear silk neckwear, so your attire will stick out. Just act like you’re an employee and folks won’t stare. Aired 07 February 2003
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