Desert companion - July 2017 by Nevada Public Radio

07 JULY

m e m r u s DINING

Now arriving: faraway flavors! Global cuisine brings the world to your table CAN GOOD FOOD SAVE A METH ADDICT? #TBT NEVADA AND THE RECESSION HEAT-BEATING TREATS

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EDITOR’S NOTE

EAT GLOBALLY

t would be true to say our Summer Dining Issue celebrates the diversity of the Las Vegas Valley. But it would also be pat, smarmy, and a little boring. I guess I hang up on how the word diversity — to be sure, a word and value of meaning and significance — just doesn’t capture the deep, complicated backstory of so many dishes we once upon a time called ethnic. There’s another problematic word, but my reservations in that case have less to do with political correctness than precision: ethnic is freighted with dubious presumptions of pure origin — spaghetti from Italy, sushi from Japan, curry from India, etc. — and ignores the back-and-forth of culinary stealing, borrowing, and remixing that results in the favorite dishes we love to eat and, more importantly, showcase on our Instagram feeds. Look back far enough, and you discover that everything is fusion cuisine. So, yes, diversity, but not a simplistic, schoolbook diversity. Inside this issue, you’ll find Jamaican curry that recast what was already a British/Indian mashup with sweet native spices — frequently served on goat, no less; bulgogi quesadillas born of the happy culinary collision between L.A.’s Korean and Mexican populations; sweetbread tortillas that pay homage to the Romani of Granada; and sea urchin and tomato cream linguine, a wholly unlikely Japanese/Italian combo that emerged in the wake of World War II. If I’m starting to freak you out a little bit, don’t worry: Fortunately, diversity also celebrates tacos, udon, kabobs, sushi, and split loaves of bread smothered in melted cheese (with a fried egg on top). Amid the parade of must-eat-this and gotta-try-that, it can be easy to forNEXT get that the dining experience isn’t just MONTH a transactional process of supply and See you in consumption; particularly in the case health, my of global cuisine, serving and sharing friend! It’s our health and food often implicates a personal story medicine issue.

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of hope, enterprise, and risk. Recognizing that, we also highlight five culinary professionals — Khai Vu of District One and Le Pho, Maggie Reb of La Maison de Maggie, chocolatier Melissa Coppel, Girma Abebe of Lucy Ethiopian Restaurant, and Raquel Flores of Garduños — whose passion for food is intertwined with family and identity. And sometimes food is simply a longing attempt at connection, at rescue. In Kim Foster’s “The Meth Lunches” (p. 50), Foster recounts a season of preparing lunch for a man who came into her life as a day laborer to help rehab an aging Downtown home, but who stuck around to become part of a decidedly nontraditional, ad hoc, extended family. That the man happens to be a meth addict — that the grip of addiction is far too powerful for any one person to break — doesn’t stop Foster from inviting him into her family’s life. It makes the meals she cooks for him that much more vital — and fraught. It would certainly be nice to say this is a hopeful story about redemption through the bonding power of food, but that might be pat and smarmy as well. But it is about hope and sober sense in the face of the heartbreak of addiction — and she expresses that hope through a busy kitchen, a hot pan, and a crowded table Andrew Kiraly editor on the back porch.

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July 2017

letters@desertcompanion.vegas

VO LU M E 1 5 I S S U E 7

ORDER UP! TEN YEARS OF DINING IN DESERT COMPANION

f it’s not quite accurate to say that food is Desert Companion’s (wink, wink) bread and butter, there’s still a whole grain of truth to it. Whether we’re showing our nom-hunting readers an out-of-the-way taqueria or guiding them through the Strip’s cathedrals of haute cuisine, dining coverage has been baked into our pages almost from the beginning. (Clearly, we also enjoy a tasty food pun now and then. An amuse bouche, if you will.) That continues with this issue’s Summer Dining feature, née DEALicious Meals, one of two food issues we publish each year. The other is December’s Restaurant Awards. Las Vegas’ culinary reinvention — for context, picture a Michelangelo painting of Wolfgang Puck extending a tasting spoon toward the outstretched tongue of a Vegas buffet patron ready for something

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new — was already well underway by the time the first Desert Companion rolled off the presses 10 years ago. Still, the magazine’s first decade coincided with a certain maturation of the scene. While absentee celebrity chefs still opened splashy branded restaurants on the Strip, more of them actually stayed here, personally overseeing the kitchens that bore their names. Neighborhood dining got deeper, richer, more sophisticated. Desert Companion’s crack squad of reviewers and reporters kept pace, reviewing restaurants, recommending dishes, profiling chefs, analyzing trends, and compiling guides to every kind of food — we have the expense reimbursements to prove it. We dispensed shout-outs to the talent in the kitchen, whether we found it in a suburban bar (say, Sporting Life lounge, for one of many examples), in

Chinatown (Mio Ogasawara of Sweets Raku, who won a 2013 Restaurant Award for Best Pasty Chef), or in joints probably no one’s ever heard of (Le Cirque, whose executive chef Wilfried Bergerhausen took last year’s Chef of the Year award). Often, cuisine tells a specific story, and we love when it does — indeed, this month we use food both to explore the immigrant influence in the valley, and to examine the potential, and limit, of food as a mode of communication and healing. Other times, it’s just about putting something good in your chomp-hole. Either way, our philosophy has been that quality dining adds volumes of texture to our quality of life, and reminds us all that, even at the super-basic level of fueling up your body, life in Las Vegas is a movable feast. How do you like them ... ( final food cliché cut — eds)

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DEPARTMENTS

39 WE EAT THE WORLD Celebrate the immigrant influence while letting your palate roam the globe — no passport required! — with our guide to the best ethnic dishes in the valley. Plus, meet five people who transform culture into cuisine.

18 31 DINING 32 THE DISH Hot out

50 THE METH LUNCHES He is a temp worker and meth addict. She is a cook who believes in the healing potential of a good meal — but it turns out there’s a limit to the power of lunch. By Kim Foster

there? Do what the cool people do — chillax with these cold treats 35 COCKTAIL It’s July, but you’re gonna want this Sunburn 36 AT FIRST BITE At

ALL THINGS

20 OPEN TOPIC She

13 WATER

awoke to find a homeless woman in her bedroom. Now what?

A pipeline haunts the valleys of Eastern Nevada 16 FIELD NOTES Into

the tank 17 ZEIT BITES Photo ID

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18 PROFILE Call him a

restaurant stylist

22 Q&A Looking back at the Great Recession with Elliott Parker and Kate Marshall, who wrote the book on it By Heidi Kyser

the new Andre’s Bistro & Bar, you’ll experience a certain je ne sais Rochat 59 THE GUIDE Sun’s out, fun’s out! 64 END NOTE Food explained in a series of tasty Venn diagrams By Andrew Kiraly and Scott Dickensheets

ON THE COVER PHOTOGRAPHY Christopher Smith

E G G : C H R I S T O P H E R S M I T H ; I L LU S T R AT I O N : A A R O N M C K I N N E Y ; P O R T R A I T : A A R O N M AY E S

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P U B L I S H E D B Y N E VA D A P U B L I C R A D I O

MISSION STATEMENT

Desert Companion is the premier city magazine that celebrates the pursuits, passions and aspirations of Southern Nevadans. With awardwinning lifestyle journalism and design, Desert Companion does more than inform and entertain. We spark dialogue, engage people and define the spirit of the Las Vegas Valley. PUBLISHER Flo Rogers CORPORATE SUPPORT MANAGER Favian Perez EDITOR Andrew Kiraly ART DIRECTOR Christopher Smith DEPUTY EDITOR Scott Dickensheets SENIOR DESIGNER Scott Lien STAFF WRITER Heidi Kyser GRAPHIC DESIGNER Brent Holmes

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TREASURE ISLAND

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CONTRIBUTING WRITERS Jim Begley, Cybele, Kim Foster, Bruce Gil, Melanie Hope, Desiree Scheck, Greg Thilmont, Kristy Totten, Mitchell Wilburn, Misti Yang CONTRIBUTING ARTISTS Jon Estrada, Aaron Mayes, Aaron McKinney, Hernan Valencia, Emily Wilson EDITORIAL: ANDREW KIRALY, (702) 259-7856; ANDREW@DESERTCOMPANION.VEGAS FAX: (702) 258-5646 ADVERTISING: Favian Perez (702) 259-7813; favian@desertcompanion.vegas SUBSCRIPTIONS: (702) 258-9895; subscriptions@desertcompanion.vegas WEBSITE: www.desertcompanion.vegas Desert Companion is published 12 times a year by Nevada Public Radio, 1289 S. Torrey Pines Dr., Las Vegas, NV 89146. It is available by subscription at desertcompanion.vegas, or as part of Nevada Public Radio membership. It is also distributed free at select locations in the Las Vegas Valley. All photos, artwork and ad designs printed are the sole property of Desert Companion and may not be duplicated or reproduced without the written permission of the publisher. The views of Desert Companion contributing writers are not necessarily the views of Desert Companion or Nevada Public Radio. Contact Tammy Willis for back issues, which are available for purchase for $7.95.

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n May 31st, The Historic 5th Street School and the City of Las Vegas was host to the 5th Annual Desert Companion “Focus on Nevada” photo showcase and award presentation. Over 300 guests came to honor this year’s winners while enjoying live music, light bites, and beverages. Thank you to all of our sponsors for an enjoyable evening in celebration of photography focused on our home state of Nevada.

WE H AVE SEEN THE FUTURE, AND I T I S THIR ST Y

WATER

Striking a balance Opponents continue the fight against the water pipeline — with some unlikely allies at their side B Y H E I D I K YS E R

I L LU S T R AT I O N A A R O N M C K I N N E Y

When a woman crawls through your window in the middle of the night. page 20

tanding on a hill overlooking Meadow Valley, near Pioche, a couple of people in a group from Las Vegas ask incredulously, “Is it natural?” Having left behind bone-dry desert when they turned off highway 93, they’re surprised by the lush vegetation blanketing the valley floor, food for the domesticated cows and wild deer that lounge on land settled by Farrel Lytle’s ancestors. Yes, the octogenarian Lytle affirms, with a quiet smile, his family and other ranchers have subsisted on the water that nourishes these pastures for 150 years. “This was actually a destination for a group of pioneers,” he says. “In 1866, my second-great-grandfather was the guy in charge, and those houses you passed coming up, he was the stone mason (who built them). He arrived here with five wives, and he never got to live in any of those houses. He had to keep busy working to feed the family.” The group that Lytle addressed was part of the Great Basin Water Tour, a

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water

Lynn jokingly characterizes the origin of the water network as an “unholy alliance.” To understand what she means, compare Lytle with Henry “Hank” Vogler, who owns a sheep Water ways: The ranch in Spring Valley, Snake Valley Festival just north of where in Baker, top. Delaine the water pipeline Spilsbury (in white) would begin. Lytle is a in a swamp sacred to soft-spoken intellectuthe Ely Shoshone. al who holds a Ph.D. in chemistry and was an adjunct professor in X-ray physics at Stanford. Vogler, on the other hand, is a sarcastic insurgent, as in this critique of SNWA: “They’re running around telling everybody how the boar ate the cabbage, and I’m not sure that they know whether Christ was crucified or shot in a craps game!” It’s hard to imagine the two men having much in common, other than a love of family and land — but that was enough to convince them to support the water network. Each owns property in the valleys targeted mid-June educational trip through eastfor the pipeline project’s pumping, which ern Nevada organized by the Great Basin they believe would lower the water table Water Network, Progressive Leadership and dry up now-fertile plots that they hope to someday pass to their children. Alliance of Nevada, and Great Basin Resource Watch. The route roughly followed “There are Native Americans and the Southern Nevada Water Authority’s ranchers who think the land is everyproposed pipeline to transport to Las Vething, and the water makes it producgas water pumped from several valleys tive,” Lynn says. “That is the lifestyle running along the eastern side of the state. they’ve chosen to live over the decades.” Although there’s no current construction In some cases, the land isn’t just proactivity on the project, opponents say that ductive; it has profound cultural value, it’s not dead, because the SNWA continues too — for instance, the cedar swamp to seek related water rights from the state where Western Shoshone mother and engineer and lists them in its long-term son Delaine and Rick Spilsbury took the resource plans. The next hearing on those tour group the afternoon after the Vogler applications is scheduled for this fall. (An Ranch stop. The area off Highway 50 SNWA spokesman said no one from the northwest of Great Basin National Park is agency could speak to Desert Companion sacred to the Ely Shoshone tribe because for this story before press time.) of its history both joyful and painful. A “We know the Legislature will be back to fertile oasis where generations of Native change state water law,” says Susan Lynn, Americans gathered to hunt, harvest pine who helped found the Great Basin Water nuts, and collect herbs, it was also the site Network in 2004, referring to a couple SNof brutal massacres by the U.S. military WA-backed bills that failed in the 2017 state in the mid- to late 1800s. legislative session, and which the water “We believe the spirits of our ancesnetwork believes would have made it easier tors who were murdered here live in for the authority to lay claim to rural water. these trees,” Delaine Spilsbury says, “And we know that if the ruling by the state adding that she fears the water pipeline, engineer is similar to his past rulings, we’ll which is slated to run through the area, be back in court again.” would destroy the forest.

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Hydrologist Tom Myers, a consultant for the water network, says her fears may be justified. Explaining the existence of areas like Lytle’s pastures and the Shoshone cedars, he notes that precipitation from the north-south mountain chains bordering the eastern Nevada valleys feeds a system of springs and aquifers that are replenished either from above, through runoff, or from below, with water that has soaked into the ground and circulates through a vast web of cracks in the carbonate rock. “I’ve spent a lot of time exploring in these areas, doing field work in similar parts of the state,” Myers says, “and I’ve realized how dependent they are on what little water there is. It wouldn’t take much of a change in that to have a major upset in these fragile desert ecosystems.” This view suggests that Myers would object to land use such as farming and ranching, which divert natural flows, but he understands that operators like Lytle and Vogler use water with their own sustainability in mind. And he believes that SNWA’s pumping hundreds of thousands of acre-feet of water annually from the area would cause degradation “many orders of magnitude greater” than anything the existing family businesses could wreak. Similarly, the Spilsburys’ Shoshone heritage makes them suspicious of public officials, such as the White Pine County Commission, but the tribe and county have joined lawsuits to fight the water pipeline. Regardless of their philosophical differences, ranchers and environmentalists, Indians, and politicians have banded together against a common enemy. “We agree to disagree,” Myers says. “I mean, yeah, I’m on the environmental side of many things, but I’m looking at the technical stuff, and I’m not going to argue with any of these ranchers as to whether they may have voted for Donald Trump, for goodness sake. … We set aside our views on social or cultural issues or things like that.” The approach has worked for 13 years to help protect the delicate coexistence of high desert and green meadows. If enough Las Vegans set aside their biases and joined the conversation, the network believes, a statewide water balance could be struck.

WAT E R T O U R P H OT O S : H E I D I K Y S E R

ALL THINGS

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ALL THINGS

field notes

TANKED

Void oh boy! How I learned to stop worrying and just have a damn out-of-body experience already in a float tank B Y A N D R E W K I R A LY

he manager gestured at the tank’s open hatch. “So, you’re going to step in, pull the door closed, orient your head at the opposite end, and just float,” he said. Inside the tank was what looked like 10 inches of salt water, but I knew what it really was: a void at once claustrophobic and endless. “It’ll be completely dark,” he continued. “What’s going to happen is you’re going to relax, maybe meditate, maybe fall asleep — and then, before you know it, it’ll be over.” I’d been looking forward to my first time in a sensory deprivation tank, but now I wasn’t so sure. Scenes from Altered States and Event Horizon flickered through my mind, with supplemental clowns. Too late to turn back. The manager left the room. I stripped, showered and stepped in. The deal was that I had lately started to feel like I was slowly drowning in needles, being stung to petty psychic death by a million tiny digital things: texts,

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emails, pings, Facebook messages, cat memes, open tabs, account alerts, sitcom GIFs. I had developed a hunger for an elemental quiet beyond what a 15-minute morning meditation could provide. Thus my recent visit to a float tank. Once a somewhat obscure device — a curio of experimental psychiatry and tripping tool of devoted psychonauts — the float tank has come into the mainstream as something akin to a spa session for mind and spirit. It speaks volumes about the excesses of first-world techno-capitalism that we’re willing to pay for what amounts to a dose of solitary confinement in what looks like a Japanese hatchback. But damn, I needed some time in the void. But, I’d hoped, not void as mere novelty or diversion or pacifier. We use such ad hoc private voids and shields all the time, right? Plugged into Netflix at the gym, earbuds deployed at the grocery store. We temporarily excuse ourselves from reality by subbing in replacement realities.

I didn’t want just that. Rather, I wanted the kind of nourishing void that would rekindle, I dunno, the guttering rainbow flame inside me where I seem to recall abiding some sense of sure purpose and native cosmic equanimity. Once I had settled into the water, hatch shut, limbs adrift, it was only after the motion-sensor light outside the tank clicked off that I realized, gee, I had never really thought to ask myself whether successfully making it to adulthood meant that along the way I must have just sort of automatically shed my standard-issue primal childhood fear of the dark. Turns out: Not really! So, for a moment, I was seized by gelid terror. But an equal and opposite primal fear of the embarrassment associated with a newspaper story about firefighters having to rescue a wailing, naked 45-year-old man from ooh scary ghost water canceled it out. Then I simply let the fears go. I embraced letting them go. Then I let go of embracing. I was like, Woo-hoo, come on, purifying void! But then I was like, Wait, words don’t exist in a true void. It’s certainly easy enough to shut out the physical world, but what about the hunk of it constantly roiling in your own head? Knowing that, is seeking void folly? And is void really a pure absence, or just a presence of a different kind I’m chasing? Is nothing … a something? So, yeah, my mind reverted to that of a 14-year-old stoner and started eating itself. Then I eventually just floated — relaxed but alert, disembodied but strangely enlivened. I thought a lot, then didn’t think at all. Then I thought about lunch, and then had an astral rebirth in which The Infinite Love that is the universe rechristened me Q’iarra the Starchild. Okay, that didn’t happen — nor did I turn into a primordial blob of ur-mind like William Hurt in Altered States, nor did I accidentally summon a devil spaceship through a dimensional rift á la Event Horizon. But an hour later, I did emerge from the tank refreshed and reset — ready to tackle the 27 emails that appeared in my inbox in the meantime. A little dose of nothing did close to everything I’d hoped.

I L LU ST R AT I O N B R E N T H O L M E S

PICTURE THIS NUMBERS

HOT IN THE CITY

Photo ID required Any of these folks look familiar? If so, the Las Vegas News Bureau wants to hear from you.

We recently noticed a steady stream of press releases hitting our inboxes about The Red Cross helping victims of home fires. May, it seemed to us, was a very hot month. Yet, as the first of these statistics, provided by the Red Cross, about the agency’s house-fire responses suggests, May’s rash of fires might’ve been a bit below average: “Nearly every 20 hours”: Average frequency with which the Red Cross responds to a house fire in Southern Nevada, according to a press release 24: House fires the Red Cross responded to in May, according to Frank Rutkowski, a spokesman for the Red Cross 205: Victims of house fires assisted in May 2: Average number of caseworkers dispatched to each incident to help survivors 600: Total Red Cross volunteers in Las Vegas “No limit”: Amount of time volunteers spend helping victims with food, shelter, clothing, and medical attention, according to Rutkowski 100: Years the Red Cross has served Southern Nevada; it was chartered on June 14, 1917 For more information: redcross.org/volunteer Bruce Gil

he Las Vegas News Bureau has, to use a technical term, a boatload of photos — many thousands of images that chronicle decades of the city’s events, attractions, celebrities, resorts, and culture. An arm of the Las Vegas Convention and Visitors Authority, the bureau uses these images to help market the city. It also curates exhibits, including the photo show hanging at the Centennial Hills Library through July 30, which celebrates the agency’s 70th anniversary. (Congrats!) But with such a rich, voluminous archive comes a problem: lost information. There are plenty of photos about which the News Bureau knows little or nothing. Who are those stylish gals taking aim in the photo above? Why is that man wearing a ridiculous mustache years before it was cool? To help answer such questions, the bureau will host a talk about its history on July 6, at 7 p.m., at the Clark County Library (702-507-3459). On hand will be binders of unidentified images for public perusal, in the hope of crowdsourcing useful caption information.

Locally sourced lit

VALLEY POETS get their due — a big 280 pages of it — in the recently released Clark: Poetry From Clark County, Nevada (Zeitgeist Press). Sampling the best work of some 105 poets, the anthology casts a wide net, gathering in poets you might’ve heard of, from Bruce Isaacson to Angela M. Brommel to Lee Mallory, to many you haven’t: slam poets,

academic poets, free-versers, even talented high-schoolers. Curious? There will be readings July 1 at Barnes & Noble in Henderson, July 15 at the Writer’s Block and July 29 at the West Charleston Library. Visit poetrypromise.org for more details. Scott Dickensheets

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PROFILE

Martin Koleff RESTAURANT STYLIST

f you’ve ever eaten at the James Beard-nominated Aburiya Raku, or iconic ramen spot Monta, or beloved neighborhood sushi joint Sen of Japan, or tried the exotic fusion pastas at Trattoria Nakamura-Ya — basically, if you’ve eaten at pretty much any of the buzzworthy Japanese restaurants in the valley — you can thank Martin Koleff. He’s not a chef, manager or owner, but rather a restaurant consultant who specializes in Japanese cuisine. Actually, make that restaurant stylist. “I call myself a restaurant stylist because I consult on so many different things,” he explains. “I consult with some restaurants on training, I consult with some on menus. Some of the owners lack a marketing plan, some just lack the power to move onto their dream, so they get stuck selling sushi all the time.” Fluently bilingual, Koleff is one of the key figures who’s brought Las Vegas’ innovative Japanese culinary scene to national attention. When a restaurant needs help spinning a new concept, they call Koleff. When GQ or Bon Appétit wants a short-notice photo shoot for a feature spread, they call Koleff. “I’ll make sure the answer is yes.”

Koleff’s path to the restaurant industry was a long and winding one. He grew up in Japan, the son of an American GI and a Japanese woman. (“My father proposed through a translator.”) At the height of the disco craze in 1976, an 18-year-old Koleff began DJing at Tokyo nightclubs. Being half-Japanese made him a novelty, and it helped propel him into a music career, during which he released several albums and appeared on late-night Japanese pop shows. From there, he moved into nightclub management, and eventually began managing bars and restaurants, inspiring him to launch a food-and-beverage industry design and management company in Japan. In 2005, Koleff was hired for a bilingual management position at Okada (now Mizumi) at Wynn Las Vegas. That was his springboard into the Las

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Vegas dining scene. “When you’re with Wynn, you meet everybody,” he says. And Koleff met lots of restless, ambitious chefs and executives who wanted to strike out on their own off the Strip. A case study of a Koleff success story: Sweets Raku. The high-concept, desserts-only restaurant, brainchild of Mitsuo Endo and Mio Ogasawara, was a startling first for Las Vegas when it opened in 2013. “The concept was almost too … city, too … futuristic,” Koleff recalls. He helped parlay the Raku brand connection into a surge of early and enthusiastic press, while marketing the avant-garde menu by, well, not marketing it. “We made the message, ‘I can’t explain these desserts to you — you just have to come in and see them!’”

Koleff’s culinary ambassadorship goes both ways. He also writes a restaurant column, in both English and Japanese, for the Las Vegas Japan Times newspaper. The goal is to introduce Japanese locals (he estimates there are about 14,000) to restaurants outside their comfort zone. What’s next for Koleff? He hopes to open a sake retail venue at the beginning of next year with a food component. “It’ll be retail, and we’ll have fun in a lounge. There might be food, and I might call it a restaurant.” Since he’s currently a sales rep for World Sake Imports — yet another way he’s plugged into the Japanese food scene here — it sounds like he’s perfectly suited for it. “I want everyone to experience sake. And to pair it with food. It’ll be my hobby; it’s not going to be my main gig.” Knowing Koleff, the project is sure to appeal to a wide audience without compromising authenticity. “I want to educate America that Japanese is so much more than just sushi, tofu, teriyaki chicken,” he says. “Here is robata, here is curry, here is kaiseki. There’s so much more out there.” Jim Begley

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Stranger in the night What happens when you wake up to find a homeless woman in your bedroom? BY DESIREE SHECK

arly on a freezing November morning in 2015, I was pulled out of a dreamless sleep when my bedroom door creaked open. I jolted up, half-awake and confused to see a woman silhouetted in my doorway. She had turned on the hallway light, so I could see she was black and wearing a thick, old, red coat. She had to be in her 40s. Raising her hands, she stepped back in alarm, as though I was the one breaking into her house in the middle of the night. Disoriented, I sat up and pulled my blanket to my chin. “Who are you?” I asked. Still foggy with sleep, I was half-rationalizing that she was a ghost. “I-I’m sorry, missus,” she said. “It’s so cold outside. I was looking for a place to sleep.” Damn. She was real. As she explained that she thought the house was empty, I stared at her, fear threat-

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ening to lock my brain. She wasn’t holding a weapon, though she might have been hiding one in her puffy coat. But she didn’t seem dangerous. Her hollow eyes locked onto mine as though she was afraid I was the one hiding a gun. “How did you get in here?” “The window.” Her voice was raspy, melancholy. “I was just looking for a place to stay.” Her coat was faded. Her skin looked faded. Her soul seemed faded. If she were going to attack, she would have by now. And it was cold outside. Despite my fear, I couldn’t help but pity her. But I wanted her out of my room. “Okay,” I said, “you can sleep on the couch.” She thanked me profusely and backed away, disappearing into the living room, leaving my bedroom door open and the hall light on. I sat there, trying to process: What just happened? Where the hell was my dad? How was he still asleep? I checked my phone: 5:14 a.m. Should I call the police? No. She seemed harmless, and for some reason, I felt I’d be the worst person in the world if I sent a homeless person into the cold, even though she’d broken into my house. “Missus?” Her frail voice made me jump. She called out several more times before I summoned the courage to get out of bed. Trembling, I shuffled into the living room. She was lying on the white leather couch next to the window, which was still open, and winter clung to every bit of the air. Her hands wrapped around her torso. Her legs hung off the couch, so I doubted she was comfortable. “Missus?” Why was she calling me that? “Do you want me to close the window?” “Sure,” I said. I backed into my room, still debating what I should do. I had pepper spray in my purse. Maybe I could grab that, then go wake up my dad. But he would send her out into the cold. I found myself arguing with my subconscious, which wanted to know, What is wrong with you? She broke into your house. She could have hurt you. Why do you pity her? I didn’t know. I really didn’t know. My dad always said that I am too nice, that I

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have the curse of a bleeding heart. I tried to reason with my subconscious about my dad’s temper. Who knew what he would do when he found out about this lady? He couldn’t stand in line at the grocery store for more than 30 seconds without getting pissed. Or what if she was desperate enough to attack him when he tried to make her leave? My worries turned out to be pointless. My dad woke up to use the bathroom, saw the hallway light, and came out to investigate. When he saw the homeless lady, he first thought it was my older brother Sean, who moved out five years ago, when he was 17, because he and my dad were near fistfights every day. But then he took a closer look. Miraculously, a gentler side existed in his frozen heart, and he didn’t scream or threaten her. He listened while she lied to him, insisting she was a friend of his wife — oh, that was why she called me missus; she meant Mrs. — who invited her to sleep on the couch. He had her show how she got into the house before making her leave, giving her $20 and an old coat I never wear. He warned that if she ever showed up again, he’d call the cops. “You’re useless,” I said to my dad over breakfast later. “I’m alone here almost every night, and the window is unlocked?! How the hell didn’t you hear her — she could have had a gun or a knife or something! I could have died!” Was I overreacting? Maybe. I was overflowing with conflicting emotions, fear for my safety versus empathy for the woman. But I was angry that the one person who was supposed to make me feel safe always seemed to fall short (there’s a history here) — even though he did manage to get her out of the house without a catastrophe. To be honest, one reason I didn’t wake up my dad was because I was afraid she was hiding a weapon and would attack him. As much as I couldn’t stand him sometimes, he was my dad, and the idea of losing him was terrifying. Not because I needed him to take care of me. I was afraid he would die before I could forgive him for all of the pain he has caused me — for example the time he told me that he wasted 20 years raising my brother and me. My dad didn’t even blink at my tirade.

His face, lined with weariness, softened into a laugh as he explained that the window had been locked — she unlocked it with a screwdriver she’d found in the shed. My dad believed that she was trying to rob us and thought no one was home. Maybe that should have been a wakeup call. I had always understood the danger that existed in Las Vegas, but I considered my neighborhood safe. I grew up on the east side, Flamingo and Sandhill, six minutes from Sam’s Town. I lived my entire life in the same one-story white and brown house with the rose bushes in the yard and paint chipping off the trim. I just never worried about someone breaking in, even though, according to AreaVibes, there is a 1-in-26 chance of becoming a victim of a crime in Las Vegas. There were 180 homicides in Clark County that year, according to the Review-Journal. And 8 News NOW reports that Las Vegas has the nation’s fourth highest-homeless rate. Out of every 10,000 people, 50 are homeless. Mostly, though, our lives didn’t change after the incident. Sure, my dad installed an alarm on every window, but I never kept the monitor on — I hated the loud noise it made when I went near a window. Otherwise, I didn’t have nightmares, and I didn’t put a lock on my bedroom door. My dad still refused to replace the porch light that had been dead for 13 years, so that at night my house looked like an abandoned shack for ghouls on crack. My mom will never let me live down how I handled the situation. “Are you crazy?” she yelled over the phone from her apartment across town. “Why didn’t you call the cops?” When I was 12, my brother accidentally set the microwave on fire, and my mom ran out of the house without either of us. So she might not be the right person to dispense advice in this situation. “Why didn’t you get your dad?” she asked. “I was getting to it,” I replied. In the end, no one got hurt, so I suppose I handled the situation well enough. I still don’t know why I didn’t completely lose it that night. Maybe I have no self-preservation instincts whatsoever. Or my dad’s right about my bleeding heart: I’m just too nice. But what’s wrong with that?

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RECESSION STATE OF MIND Kate Marshall and Elliott Parker discuss their new book about Nevada in the downturn and (hopefully) beyond B Y H E I D I K YS E R

NR economist Elliott Parker likes to tell this joke: Doctor: I’m very sorry, but you only have six months to live. Patient: Oh my gosh, what should I do? Doctor: Marry an economist. Patient: Will that help me live longer? Doctor: No, but those six months will feel like an eternity.

Parker certainly didn’t want reading his first book, Nevada’s Great Recession (University of Nevada Press, scheduled for release this month), to feel like an eternity. So he wisely recruited his wife and former Nevada treasurer, Kate Marshall, to spice up his economic treatise on the 2008-2010 economic crisis with her first-person accounts of turmoil and damage control in Carson City. The result is unexpectedly emotional, an invitation to see the recession from the perspective of two people who fervently believed they knew what needed to be done, but, despite their positions of relative knowledge and power, watched — often helplessly, like the rest of us — as the freight train of foreclosure and unemployment flattened their state. It doesn’t hurt, from a literary standpoint anyway, that the economic story coincides with the Marshall-Parker relationship story. In the wake of the mortgage meltdown, the state treasurer began consulting the economist (among others) for urgently needed budget and

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finance advice. But, over the course of the book, and the recession, the two divorcees become friends and eventually marry. They visited Nevada Public Radio in June to talk about the book, how it came about, who it’s for, and why it’s still an important read. The book goes back 10 years and traces events up to last year, often through your own previous writing. What inspired you to gather it all into one work? PARKER: Kate and I wrote a series of 12 to 14 columns in 2015, after the debacle of the 2014 election, and then I wrote a couple more on my own that year. I felt like there was a coherent story we were telling in these columns. And that alone made me start thinking about the book. Then in considering what matters for Nevada, I thought the Great Recession was a very interesting story, because Nevada suffered more than any other state, and the recession was very difficult for us to get out of. So the columns that I had written were addressed to the people of Nevada and the legislators of Nevada to help them understand. I thought they could be made into a coherent story, so I approached a few publishers and got lucky very soon.

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Reading the book, I got a feeling similar to the one I got watching the movie The Big Short: nausea. I wondered if you thought about that — that people might be adverse to reliving this horrible time. MARSHALL: I think we felt that if we didn’t reflect on what had happened, then what’s a small state to do? You’re in the throes of a worldwide crisis. How can you manage the state to its best for its citizens when there is a lot you can’t control? We talked a lot about what other countries were doing. What did Ireland do? What did Israel do? What did Belgium do? What did other states do? How come there were other states that grew faster and quicker out of this than we did? So if you’re getting the brunt of the financial crisis bearing down on you, what can you do? That’s what we were trying to address, and the only way to address it is to begin to ask, What are the parts that made up that crisis that bore down on us? You don’t present the story of Nevada’s recession in standard economic history form. For instance, the main narrative is punctuated with what you call “treasurer’s vignettes,” first-person reflections full of dialogue. Where did those come from? PARKER: Yes. During the Great Recession, over a period of four to five years, I had written a number of articles on a certain number of themes, as Kate said. We talked about the housing markets, and budgets, and economic growth, and other issues that economists care about. There are nine chapters in the book, and the first six are all mine, in terms of the basic structure. I took my columns and put them into these categories: the overall view of Nevada, higher education, the budget, what’s going on at the federal level, etcetera. But Kate had all of these experiences about what was happening at that time, so she would write a story about something she told me about or that we talked about — sometimes I was totally surprised by what she wrote — and we would insert that as a vignette. And then we would write an introductory section for each chapter about where we are now, what it looks like from 2016.

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Q&A Did you settle on this arrangement, with these personal, sometimes dramatic episodes, to make it interesting? MARSHALL: I think people think finances are boring. And I have to tell you, I thought the state treasurer’s office would be a quiet office — not heavily political, not on the front pages, not on the front lines. But then the crisis came, and it was anything but quiet. In my favorite vignette, Kate describes an interview that she did with NPR’s Melissa Block. You had just gotten a call that morning about Lehman Brothers filing for bankruptcy, but it wasn’t widely known yet. So all you could think about was the impending implosion of the U.S. economy, and all Block wants to talk about is the 2008 election and Sarah Palin. Your frustration and dread are palpable. PARKER: Yes, (Kate’s) stories make it real. It’s easy for me as an academic to

talk about things at a 30,000-foot level. But when you come down to Earth ... there were real people hurt by this. MARSHALL: Real consequences. PARKER: I still remember October of 2008, and I felt like I was looking over a deep cliff that had no bottom. And thank God that people who were in office at that time were in office. At least there are some people who understood they needed to do certain things. We escaped from a terrible catastrophe. Elliott, was there a story Kate had told you that you knew you absolutely had to include in the book? PARKER: There were several like that. There was certainly one that was a dialogue between her and an unnamed reporter in Carson City. It was mostly just playful, but I had to edit it so that people didn’t read too much into it, but making

sure it was still true. I had so much fun with that one, because it showed that playful banter back and forth. Can you recap that one, Kate? MARSHALL: So, this reporter just comes in (my office), and I say I have a meeting, and he says, “No, you don’t.” I had lost a special election (to Mark Amodei, for Congress, in 2011), and I just felt like, “Oh my God, people think I’m useless.” … And he was like, “You aren’t useless; you’re just not good at being a politician!” The reporters who are in the capitol are very knowledgeable, perhaps more knowledgeable than a lot of the elected officials, on the budget and how the state works, so he knew from what we had done during the crisis that I had a plan in my back pocket. And his view was (that I should) let the Legislature do its job and not bail them out.

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What did you want to do? MARSHALL: My instinct was, we need to deliberate, so I will find a way to give you some financial breathing room so you can deliberate. And after a few special sessions there was also a view, which I think was also an incredible view, that people are going to have to acknowledge just how bad it is, and they are going to have to address it. PARKER: What she’s talking about, in terms of coming up with ideas, is the story of the refrigerator breaking down.

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Which is …? MARSHALL: Our minds work differently. Elliott is an economist, so his mind works in graphs. My mind works in narrative and (by asking), “How do you put things in a frame that one can grasp?” One time, my refrigerator broke down, so I had to go to the store. The guy said that in 20 days the refrigerators were going on this massive sale. I thought, “I don’t need the refrigerator; I need refrigeration.” So I just went to the store and bought large blocks of ice and put them in the refrigerator for the 20 days, so I could then get the refrigerator on sale. In the economic crisis, I thought what the Legislature needed was to get it into regular session and have 120 days to deal with it long-term. All I needed to do was to get the budget to that regular session. I needed to put it on ice. Which I did.

In the book, you don’t shy away from talking about the development of your relationship, from professional advisors to friends to spouses. PARKER: Yeah, I thought it helped to make us real, the experiences that we had, because dealing with a crisis like this is not just this abstract thing that you do with one part of your brain. There are also letters I wrote to Governor (Jim) Gibbons and Governor (Brian) Sandoval. Yes, I published the letters (in newspapers at the time), but I also wrote them because I was hoping I could persuade them, because I was watching damage being done and wasn’t enjoying it. There’s a human part of this story; it’s not just an abstract thing. So, what was going on with us? I did have to push Kate to tell the story of how we met. I remember it better than she did, but we had this purely professional

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relationship until after she got divorced and then ran for Congress. I had already been divorced, and if she won that election, I wouldn’t have asked her out, but because she lost I had the courage to ask her out, and it worked out really well. Elliott, you referred to your letters to Gibbons and Sandoval, and Kate, at one point in the book, you discuss emergency decisions that you had to make after the mortgage bubble burst, saying you were scared because you had a governor at the time who wasn’t the greatest decision-maker. MARSHALL: That’s right.

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And then there is a foreword by thenU.S. Senator Harry Reid, and, of course, you’ve held public office as a Democrat. Were you concerned about the book taking a partisan political view of history? MARSHALL: We didn’t want it to be partisan. We wanted to tell a true story that affected everyone. PARKER: I try — I don’t always succeed, but I try — to be respectful to people and acknowledge those I disagree with. Maybe I acknowledge where they are right and where they have good reason for believing what they believe, but that doesn’t always necessarily mean they’re correct. Kate tried very hard not to name names. She didn’t want to make this a personal issue. There is no one that we wanted to attack. It is hard not to imply some criticism of some decisions made at that time, and the people who were in charge. That doesn’t necessarily mean they’re bad people. We want to be respectful as much as we can, but yes, there has to be a political undertone, because all of this took place in a political context. Kate, you ran for Congress. You served two terms as treasurer. Does the release of the book now foreshadow something? Are you going to run for office again? MARSHALL: At the time we wrote the book, no, I was not thinking about that at all. PARKER: I want to answer that a slightly different way. At the time we wrote the book, Kate had been nominated by President Obama for a position on the federal Election Assistance Commission, and we were expecting Senate confirmation. It was supposed to be a noncon-

troversial, nonpartisan position, because there are two Democrats named and two Republicans, and there was another Republican nominated at the same time as Kate. … So we thought Kate was going to Washington to be a commissioner. Now, having said that, writing and thinking about these things makes you realize there are still things that you wish people would fix because you care about the state of Nevada, and if they don’t (get fixed), sometimes you feel it’s your responsibility to step up and try. She is not a natural-born politician, but she is certainly a much better politician than I am, and she has this ability to inspire me. When she says things could happen, it’s hard to put that totally aside. I just wanted to clarify that this book wasn’t written with any of that in mind. It was written in a time where we thought her path was decided. MARSHALL: I also think that too often people are nervous about leaving footprints or taking difficult positions, and I think in this crisis at some level the public is yearning for people to take a position, stake out a view, and support that view — (or in our case) write about what was really going on. They want an honest answer. They may agree, they may not agree, but they would like to hear how you feel about something and why you feel that way, with no spin. So in the last chapter, I really tried to say, “Look, this is how I view this going forward. Here’s where I think we are. Here’s what I think the American people deserve.” And in a straightforward way, not trying to couch it in terms that are well-polled. Elliott, you begin the book by saying you were appalled by some of the misinformation you were hearing about what was going on. I wonder if you are thinking that now, too, in the current environment. PARKER: I am much less appalled by what’s going on at the state level. The national level, on the other hand, I can’t even begin to tell you how appalling that is. Everything I believe as an economist, everything I learned, is thrown up in the air. Can you give a couple of examples? PARKER: I just wrote a column for The Nevada Independent about the pres-

Table 34 ident’s budget. It, more or less, makes up a growth number with no substantiation and that most economists think can’t happen, makes budget projections on assumptions that are beyond heroic and have no basis. MARSHALL: In the book we talk about whether you are going to try to achieve economic growth from the top down, or organically, from the bottom up, and the book comes out strongly in saying top-down is not going to get you there. It’s not going to create less inequality, it is not going to create more opportunity, it’s not going to strengthen the American Dream, and the pieces that make up the American Dream for working-class and middle-class people. So to the extent the current administration believes in a budget that’s all top-down — large tax cuts for a very well-off subset of individuals in this country — you’re not going to get the opportunity and the abilities that will help America’s working class reach the goals they want to reach for themselves and their families. PARKER: Kate and I agree that a focus on the plight of both the working man and woman — their wages stagnating and technology undermining their ability to get a good job, and how global trade-related issues have made that a little worse — is a good thing. … I just don’t currently see anything coming out of D.C. that has a policy to actually address that. Aren’t those typically Democratic values anyway? PARKER: Yes, but Trump did a good job tapping into them, and I think Democrats sometimes forget about this, not just as part of their base, but also the fact this focus on the middle and working class is important to the country as a whole. … Another dialogue that came up with (2016 presidential candidate) Senator (Bernie) Sanders is the focus on inequality. We talk about inequality and poverty in Nevada in the book. Getting the conversation focused on that issue was a good thing. But the policies right now coming out of D.C. are the complete antithesis of anything that helps working men and women who are dealing with inequality and poverty. There’s a lot in the book about the

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size of the state government, what the state lacks, and how that hinders the recovery. Since the book was written, a Republican governor backed a tax increase to improve education. Democrat majorities in the Assembly and Senate got funding for scholarships for low-income kids to go to private schools. Marijuana taxes will beef up the state’s rainy-day fund. Has your view shifted? PARKER: The numbers say we are just treading water. We have a tax base that is declining — because it was primarily based on sales taxes and the gambling tax — relative to our overall economy. The taxes we do have, the commerce tax for example, have just enabled us to keep steady. It’s not like we’re going back to some grand, glorious state or even trying to be like an average state. We are still at the bottom. It’s prevented us from shrinking any more. But we still have the smallest state budget. For a state our size, we should have a lot more. MARSHALL: I think in the state administration, including the Legislature and the governor, there is an acknowledgment that education is important. Workforce development is important. We are behind compared to our neighbors. … The administration knows what the priorities are. I think they struggle with how to put in a long-term plan, because you’re not going to turn it around in one session. How do we put in place a long-term plan and get to where Utah is when we’re grappling with the structures that we’ve outgrown? … Nevadans value things that are lean and efficient, and sometimes they get caught up in this language of small. Small is not lean. Small is not efficient. You can be small and inefficient. They get caught up in smoke and mirrors and oppose a structure that is going to work for them, that’s going to cost them the least and that’s going to be the most efficient for them. Why should people read this book? MARSHALL: To try to understand their state, what it went through, what its opportunities are, and what its path forward can be. PARKER: It’s possible we will have a recession again, and we ought not to have to reinvent the wheel.

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THE DISH 32

COCKTAIL OF THE MONTH 35 AT FIRST BITE 36

OUR C I TY'S BE ST SPOTS TO EAT & DRINK

Chill session: Andre's Bistro & Bar's seafood platter, with lobster, crab, shrimp, and oysters, is an elegant and indulgent starter.

P HOTO G RA PH Y BY JON ESTRA DA

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DINING OUT

SNOW CREAM “Snow” is often thrown around to describe things that are cold, but in this case, the term is spot-on: It’s light, it’s fluffy and it’s fun as long as you don’t get it in your ears. Europeans began whipping up snow cream in the 1600s, and until recently, the recipe was quite literal — a modest mixture of exactly what you’d expect. But the old treat got a refresh not long ago when Taiwanese foodies Cold embrace: From left, green tea and froze it and shaved it into delpurple yam custard on icate, cascading ribbons. The a black sesame cone at experience is ephemeral at Recess; snow ice and first — more texture than taste fresh fruit at Snowflake — but as the snow melts and Shavery; a flowery condenses, remarkable flavors gelato creation at Amorino Gelato emerge. It’s decidedly more elegant than anything you might scrape from a snowbank. Snow cream also goes by “snow ice” and “shaved snow,” the latter being the preferred snow-noun (sorry) at Snowflake Shavery in Chinatown. It’s a small, plain space, but its quality holds up alongside THE DISH neighbors Monta and Raku. Coconut, mango, green tea and cookie butter are the most popular flavors here, but if you’re daring, try the Black Sesame Sensation combo, with peanut-buttery black sesame snow ice, mochi and a condensed milk From boba to rolled ice cream, here’s the complete low-down on drizzle. Just keep it away from your ears. delicious cold things you can put in your mouth this summer 5020 Spring Mountain Road, 702-333BY KRISTY TOTTEN 2803, milkywaveicecream.com (Snowflake will undergo a name change soon) ecause ice cream was invented 65 million years ago, it’s hard to innovate. Except apparently ITALIAN ICE AND CUSTARD it’s not, because it happens all the time. Statistically speaking, a new cold treat is born every 2.74 seconds, or at least it seems that way. It’s a known fact that everything Japanese is cuter, and the same goes for The truth is that ice cream is not quite as old as dinosaurs, but it’s up there. A 16th-century Chinese emperor dreamt up the first cold treats, mixing snow with buffalo milk and camphor, sweets. At Recess Italian Ice and Desthe main ingredient in Vicks VapoRub. Improvements were clearly in order, but even after creating serts, the Asian-influenced concoctions are so photogenic, the shop has its own a perfect, edible container called a “cone” more than a century ago, Americans are still unsatisfied. red-carpet-style step-and-repeat banner Here are some lively alternatives for when a scoop of French vanilla in a waffle cone just won’t do.

FEEL THE BRRR!

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P H OTO G R A P H Y B R E N T H O L M E S

attached to the window. Even the Instagram-allergic will want to snap a pic. The taiyaki with custard is the aesthetic star here. The f luffy, aromatic waffles are shaped like fish, and thankfully that's where the resemblance ends. Taiyaki smell like cake fresh from the oven, and they look like decorative casts, the kind of thing you'd hang above your door for good luck. Traditionally, they're plain waffles stuffed with red bean, but at Recess they come in black sesame, green tea, red velvet and purple taro. They're intriguing stand-ins for ice cream cones, and the perfect palette for eggy custard, in green tea, taro, vanilla or a swirl of two. The menu at Recess matches its whimsical decor. It serves up a dozen or so cheeky parfaits, blending custard and Italian ice with playful toppings. The Jolly Rancher, for example, starts with a base of sour watermelon and apple ices, layers on custard and tops off with sour gummy worms for extra zing. The Almond Joy combines coconut ice, chocolate custard and a dusting of almonds, shaved coconut and chocolate sauce. For traditionalists, there's always plain custard or ice. Whatever you choose, stopping by recess is a break from the norm. 5035 S. Fort Apache Road, #104, 702893-2317, recessice.com

GELATO It’s true, “gelato” is basically Italian for “ice cream,” but there are key differences: It’s denser, it’s typically made with natural ingredients, and it’s kept at a lower temperature. It’s also tastier than regular ice cream, but I’m told that’s a matter of opinion. Gelato dates back to 16th century Sicily, because of course it does. It takes a base

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DINING OUT of straightforward ingredients and transforms them into something exceptional. At Amorino Gelato, cream and fruit amount to more than just the sum of their parts, and the result is presented in enchanting flower shapes, no less. Amarena cherry is a show-stopper, and coffee is so strong you can use it to chase speculoos. But don’t overlook sorbettos, particularly the seasonal flavors. The summer special, organic green detox, combines kale, cucumber, apple and pineapple. While chocophiles might be skeptical, it’s a tastier take on green juice, and it’s as guilt-free as ice cream gets. 875 S. Grand Central Parkway #1258; Linq Promenade, 3545 Las Vegas Blvd. S., 702-229-2807; amorino.com

ROLLED ICE CREAM Rolled ice cream is pretty impractical and you have to wait a long time to get it.

For these reasons the Thai-street-foodturned-global-sensation seems like a fad. But its loyal following suggests otherwise. Rolled Ice Cream on Flamingo and Fort Apache attracts a line all day, every day, sometimes even out the door. Perhaps that’s because it takes several minutes to whip up each order, or perhaps that’s because it’s ice cream with a side of performance art. The concept is a lot like Cold Stone Creamery — it’s ice cream mixed on a frozen pan — but unlike the creamery it’s made by pouring liquid cream into a thin puddle, mixing in ingredients like fruit or chocolate, letting it freeze and scraping it into pleasing, rosette-shaped rolls. With five pans, the shop looks like something that happens behind the scenes at the North Pole — elves pouring, chopping and scraping together treats. Though the process is fun to watch, people clearly come for the flavor. The

cream in rolled ice cream creates enough volume to fill a cup, though realistically you’re only eating about a few ounces of it. And the rolls themselves melt in your mouth but stay cold — a unique sensation when eating solids. Strawberry Nutella is the most popular, but there’s a vast menu divided into fruit and creamy creations: coffee ’n’ donuts, red velvet, caramel pretzel, banana split. If you’re still undecided, come for the show and see what inspires you. 9484 W. Flamingo Road #95, 702-541-8644, rolledicecream.com

BOBA No. 1 Boba lives up to its name for using fresh fruits when others use syrups and artificial flavoring. At other places, honeydew tastes chalky and fake, but at No. 1, it's a bite into summer, chin dribble and all. The shop had humble beginnings,

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tucked inside the Chinatown mall, but has since opened three more locations, where it still draws a loyal following. This is no doubt thanks to the women behind the counter, who know what's good and how to blend it. The Taiwanese apparently have a lock on all new sweet treat patents because boba, or bubble tea as it's sometimes called, also sprang from their turf. It combines teas and smoothies with chewy, freshly made tapioca balls, called boba. Lychee coconut is a slushy crowd-pleaser, marrying subtle coconut and sweet jelly. But if you want to go all out, order the durian, a divisive Asian fruit with an impressive ability to clear a room. Whatever you do, definitely get the boba. Chinatown, Eastern Avenue, West Flamingo Road, Galleria Mall, no1bobatea.us

ICE POPS Like Kleenex, Popsicle is actually a registered trademark, but everyone uses the word to refer to the generic thing. La Flor de Michoacán elevates that “generic thing” into a high art, offering its patrons a dizzying spread of every kind of ice pop you could want, from strawberry and watermelon to Mexican mashups like chile limon and chamango (!) to pops dipped in chocolate and rainbow sprinkles that transport you to childhood. La Flor isn’t limited to ice pops, though. They carry a unique roster of handmade ice cream, with flavors like rose, elote, and tuna, which, for the record, is not what you think. But you’ll have to go try it for yourself. 3021 E. Charleston Blvd., 792-366-1447, laflordemichoacanicecreamshop.com

Cocktail of the month THE SUNBURN AT THE BLACK SHEEP Summer is the best drinking season because of its implicit approval of volume: I will argue until my death that lightly alcoholic, simply flavored concoctions such as shandies, corporate mullet beers, frooty wine coolers, and hard lemonades demand to be heroically consumed by the gallon over epic multi-hour inhabitations of The Party Zone (i.e., my sister’s pool). So, noting that The Sunburn includes ingredients such as Stiegl Grapefruit Shandy and ginger lemonade, I got into guzzle mode. Mistake. This song of a cocktail, with its mandarin blossom vodka and contratto, is certainly easy to drink. But its floral delicacy and citrus notes did this thing to me where I was like, Wow, this complex sensorial mouth-borne alco-event is kind of satisfying in itself! I may have also used the word “delight.” Andrew Kiraly 8680 W. Warm Springs Road, 702-954-3998 J U LY 2 0 1 7

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DINING OUT

Strong accent: The menu at Andre's is assured and expansive. Far left, golden trout amandine; left, beet and goat cheese salad

AT FIRST BITE

SAVOIR-FAIRE EVERYWHERE The latest incarnation of Andre’s offers a masterful survey of French dining — with a breezy assurance and a few welcome twists B Y G R E G T H I L M O N T

he scene suggests an iconic fine dining restaurant on the Strip: In a room illuminated by twilight and flickering candles, I drizzle shallot-sherry mignonette on a chilled platter of Maine lobster tail, king crab legs, shrimp, and oysters on the halfshell. But this scene is taking place in a strip mall on Fort Apache Road — and yet it’s still totally classic Las Vegas. It’s the new Andre’s Bistro & Bar. Over the past two years, there’s been a flourishing of French cuisine in town: Oh La La French Bistro, EATT Gourmet Bis-

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tro, Rosallie Le French Café, Café Breizh, and La Maison de Maggie are some of the new names. But none have the old-school Sin City track record of Andre’s, or of its namesake, André Rochat. He’s been a top toque here since 1973, well before the fine-dining boom of the past 15 years. For many locals, Rochat is known and revered for his original but long-gone Downtown location, which once earned him a street with his name. Then came Andre’s in the Monte Carlo (which closed in October) and Alizé in the Palms. Fans have been waiting for his new venture since fall, and they’ve

been dutifully filling its chairs every day since it opened in January. They’re satisfying an appetite for more than just fine food. The latest incarnation of Andre’s offers a complete French dining experience that, from entrées to ambience to service, reflects an assured, expansive mastery. You get full foodie immersion before you even walk through the door, as the space’s front windows are adorned cookbook-style with quotes from culinary luminaries like Brillat-Savarin, Julia Child, and Thomas Keller. The interior is warm and inviting, filled with rustic wood, whimsical framed vintage restaurant menus, and de rigueur rooster art. The bar at the entrance sets a welcoming note for the entire room, tables to booths. The appetizer list leaps out with time-tested French favorites with a modern twist, such as frog legs Provençal paired with herbal garlic-white wine sauce and tomato concasse. The legs are lightly breaded and fried to give them a fried-chicken familiarity for newbies. The charcuterie board features an abundance of imported and housemade cured meats. And while it might sound like a dessert at

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The dessert selection is wide in variety and exuberant in its presentation — once again, the servers add a theatrical touch. Puffy souff lés (either Grand Marnier or chocolate) are pierced with a spoon by a server, then either crème anglaise or chocolate sauce is poured down the middle. The elegant pot de crème, baked chocolate custard with Chantilly cream and a beautiful, delicate vanilla wafer, is light and silky first, the seared foie gras on grilled brioche without being cloyingly sweet. For those with a smattering of Nutella and vibrant who love the hits, there’s crème brûlée, strawberries in Sauternes glaze is sumpand ice cream shows up in sundaes, floats, tuous but not overly sweet. The onion soup and even milkshakes. is solidly traditional, with a red wine broth But to suggest Andre’s is only an that interplays with the nutty flavor pro“event” restaurant would overlook the file of a Gruyère cheese-laden croûton. The rest of the menu. My first visit to Anbeet salad is stunning, with roasted golden dre’s was for a seemingly simple weekend and garnet roots sided with goat cheese, lunch: a hot dog with sautéed onions. The candied walnuts and frisée. beef frankfurter, crafted by Andre’s staff, The dinner menu features numerous was superb, served with the restaurant’s French favorites, such as moules frites — signature Dijon mustard and cornichPrince Edward Island mussels sautéed on trays for added zing. Other notables in a rich garlic-parsley sauce and served include a Maine lobster roll; a mighty with crispy duck-fat fries for dipping. hamburger with melty imported Swiss The roasted chicken breast elevates the cheese, red onion marmalade, and trufcut with mushrooms, bacon, pearl onions, fle mayonnaise; and an open-faced croque and fingerling potatoes. Another standout madame with ham, Gruyère, béchamel, is the golden trout amandine, with Idaand fried egg. The brunch menu brings on ho-raised fish fillets covered in almonds even more eggs. In particular, the quiche and green beans in a luscious beurre Lorraine is done to perfection, with its supple, custard-like filling of bacon and noisette sauce. For red meats, braised lamb shank with orzo is a popular order. Comté cheese. Numerous cuts of Black Angus beef are Having excellent French dining in a sizzled in the kitchen, too: flat iron, filet, Vegas neighborhood is a fine enough and ribeye. thing. But it’s not just the food that Then there’s the cassoulet, a show enmakes Andre’s Bistro & Bar noteworthy. trée all its own. The baked white bean It’s the sense of continuity and tradition dish arrives steaming in a cast-iron casseit carries forward; the fact that much of role pan, with slices of Polish Rochat’s close-knit staff, kielbasa and hunks of tender from servers to chefs, have ANDRE'S duck confit concealed under a worked with him for deBISTRO & BAR 6115 S. Fort crust. A server then stirs the cades suggests it’s someApache Road stew and deftly spoons porthing like a longtime famiandresbistro tions onto your dinner plates. ly business. It continues to andbar.com Packed with slow-cooked, saearn that distinction with vory flavor, it’s consummate every dish coming out of HOURS 11:30a-9p, Mon. to Thu.; comfort food. the bustling kitchen. 11:30a-10p, Fri.; 10a-10p, Sat.; 10a-9p, Sun.

HAPPY HOUR PLATES & POURS STARTING AT $3.95 MONDAY-FRIDAY 3:30 PM - 6:30 PM

Tivoli Village | 702.433.1233 | BrioItalian.com

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Passport to flavor!

DINING ISSUE You know what the universal language is? Soup. Also noodles. And sandwich — everyone speaks sandwich. In other words, whether it’s lahm bi ajeen, an oggie, a crêpe or a cachapa — all sandwich-like flavor bombs from various points of the globe — some forms of food are universal. And yet each particular dish is a unique expression of culture, history and geography. That’s the theme of our 2017 summer dining feature: celebrating diversity through food. Now, cue up “We Are the World” and dive into some delicious global harmony!

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dish! And while Viva’s arepas are outstanding, the more obscure Venezuelan cachapa might be my favorite meal on their menu. Essentially a sweet corn pancake disguised as a quesadilla, the cachapa oozes with the mozzarella-like queso de mano, whose richness balances the corn’s sweetness. It’s practically dessert for dinner. JB 1140 S. Rainbow Blvd., 702-822-2116; 1616 Las Vegas Blvd. S., 702-366-9696, vivalasarepas.com n THE OGGIE AT CORNISH PASTY CO.

FOOD HELD TOGETHER WITH OTHER FOOD

Sandwiches and the sandwich-like ADOBADA TACOS

Tacos El Gordo

If you haven’t experienced the, uh, interesting ordering system at Tacos El Gordo, then you haven’t truly lived. One of the valley’s more confusing restaurant arrangements that involves three ordering lines — each specific to meat or dish — means picking the wrong line can be disastrous. Luckily, the best meat lies at the end of the first, and inevitably longest, line: adobada. This marinated rotisserie pork cooked by open flame is crispy,

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flavorful and tinged with cinnamon — and always worth the wait. JB 3049 Las Vegas Blvd. S., 702-982-5420; 1724 E. Charleston Blvd., 702-251-8226, tacoselgordobc.com

LAHM BI AJEEN Khoury’s

Lahm bi ajeen is an iconic Lebanese street food, a popular staple of bustling street bazaars from Turkey to Egypt to Jordan, a meal truly engineered for eating on the go. Folded up like a calzone, it’s full of spiced, ground, grass-fed lamb, along with fresh tomato and onion. It’s intended to be eaten while walking, but I won’t blame you if you sit down to properly savor each bite of Khoury’s signature menu item. MW 9340 W. Sahara Ave. #106, 702-671-0005, khouryslv.com

THE OGGIE

The Cornish Pasty Co.

Hankering for some rutabaga? Who isn’t? You don’t have to be a miner to fork into “The Oggie” pasty, the mainstay pie at this popular Downtown establishment. Beyond the rutabaga, each crusty beauty is stuffed with hunks of steak, potatoes, and onion. Slather it all with the house red-wine gravy and wash down with a frosty pint of beer. GT 10 E. Charleston Blvd., 702-862-4538, cornishpastyco.com

GALETTES

La Maison de Maggie

Maggie Reb is a stickler for details. And at her westside crêperie, Reb specifically sources the buckwheat flour for her galettes (savory crêpes) directly from France. It’s more than just

principle; the nuttiness of the buckwheat flour perfectly complements the quality cheeses and meats that go into each crêpe. That certain je ne sais nom you taste is authenticity. JB 3455 S. Durango Drive #112, 702-823-4455, lamaisondemaggie.com

CACHAPA CON QUESO Viva Las Arepas

The cachapa con queso challenges a cardinal rule of mine: When a restaurant is named after a dish, you absolutely have to order the eponymous

n GALETTES AT LA MAISON DE MAGGIE

PÂTÉ BAGUETTE SANDWICH

Delices Gourmands French Bakery

Pâté is a curious thing. The accent marks suggest a highbrow delicacy, but it’s really just good old dependable country food. (It is ground meat, after all.) At Delices Gourmands French Bakery, you can get savory slices of the viand with cornichons on some of the finest — and crustiest — baguette in town. Even better, it’s just $7.50 for a substantial baton. GT 3620 W. Sahara Ave., 702-331-2526, delicesgourmandsfrenchbakery.com

USE YOUR NOODLE

process David Wong has turned into an art. The result is Asian comfort food at its finest. JB

From pasta to pad see-yew

2980 S. Durango Drive #101, 702-629-7464 davidwongspanasian. com

PAD SEE-YEW

WILD BOAR PAPPARDELLE

David Wong’s Pan Asian

Pad Thai is a takeout staple. But pad see-yew is better. It’s all about surface area: Because pad see-yew is made with wide rice noodles (versus spaghetti-like pad Thai), they absorb more smoky, caramelized essence during their plunge into the superheated wok — a

Nora’s Italian Cuisine

Many Las Vegans held the old Nora’s Italian Cuisine close to their hearts for Old Country dining, and the new, larger location is doubly impressive. So is this rich, nearly decadent pasta dish. Fresh ribbons of chewy pappardelle support a

WORLDLY TASTES O G G I E A N D PA P PA R D E L L E : C H R I S TO P H E R S M I T H ; G A L E T T E : B R E N T H O L M E S ; M E L I S S A C O P P E L : J O N E S T R A D A

n WILD BOAR PAPPARDELLE AT NORA’S ITALIAN CUISINE

‘That’s when I started to develop my own style’ Melissa Coppel, chocolatier Atelier Melissa Coppel One woman tells me, “I am from Nigeria.” She’s here to learn how to make bonbons from chocolatier Melissa Coppel. Another student is from Houston. “It’s the only class in the world like it,” he says. Others at Coppel’s workshop are from Argentina, Georgia and Wisconsin. Why do aspiring chocolate artists from around the world come to learn from Coppel? “I am like a specialist doctor,” Coppel explains. “I take a very specific area of chocolate and focus my efforts on that.” She teaches a suite of advanced techniques that turn bonbons into works of art: enrobing, spraying, coloring and combining flavors. Just as her students span the globe, so does her background. Coppel was born in Colombia but first studied French pastry in Argentina under acclaimed chef Olivier

Hanocq before continuing her studies at The French Pastry School in Chicago. She came to Las Vegas in 2006 for a position with Joël Robuchon at the Mansion, and through her work with Robuchon discovered a passion for chocolate. Last summer, after working as a chocolatier for Caesars Palace and Bellagio, she was ready to launch Atelier Melissa Coppel. “When you go beyond merely emulating the people you admire, that’s when you truly start,” she says. “The moment I realized anything I created had to be a part of me, that’s when I started to develop my own style.” Today she conducts chocolate workshops around the world. Recounting a recent visit to Ukraine, she talked about the challenges of teaching without standard equipment or even, sometimes, air conditioning. “Now that I travel a lot, I really see how those experiences can make you a better professional by pushing you out of your comfort zone,” she says. With her cosmopolitan résume, she’s challenging the conception of chocolate-making as a predominantly European culinary craft. Misti Yang (melissacoppel.com)

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n SHAKSHUKA AT OSI’S KITCHEN

SOUP’S ON!

deeply porcine Bolognese sauce and await the twirl of tines. You can almost imagine yourself dining high in the verdant Apennine Mountains, not the sere Mojave Desert. GT

Hot and hearty liquids sure to satisfy

5780 W. Flamingo Road, 702-873-8990, norascuisine.com

HOT POT

SPAETZLE

Café Berlin

Eastern Bloc food is generally hearty to fortify you for harsh winter weather. So it’s no surprise that spaetzle — German pasta — is a meal in itself. Café Berlin’s wavy egg noodles can be ordered plain as a side. But why would you do that when they can be ordered swimming in melted cheese? Gooey with stringy goodness clinging to the bowl’s edge, it’s a delicious mess. JB 4850 W. Sunset Road #105, 702-875-4605, cafeberlinlv.com

KAO-SOI (NORTHERN THAI CURRY NOODLES) Nittaya’s Secret Kitchen

Let’s leave the familiar land of typical Thai for a memorable bowl of kao-soi at the charming and snug Nittaya’s Secret Kitchen. The dusky dish is influenced by Burmese cuisine, and arrives as substantial slow-cooked pork shoulder in a spicy coconut curry sauce. Crispy egg noodles top off a hearty entrée. GT 2110 N. Rampart Blvd. #110, 702-360-8885, nittayassecretkitchen. com

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DIP IT GOOD You’re gonna need a bigger chip CEVICHE

Mariscos Playa Escondida

Hidden in a strip mall on Charleston and Maryland Parkway, Mariscos Playa Escondida is a splendidly authentic Mexican joint — not a single palabra of inglés on this menu. But words won’t matter anyway when you try their ceviche. Order the mixto (mixed) to get a little sampling of all they offer, including octopus, scallops, crab and shrimp. Acidic with a hint of heat, it’s the essence of the ocean, Baja style. JB

matter who your server is, it’s always perfect. While it’s a simple dish, the clarity and freshness of Bonito’s guac is exceptional. It’s a lesson in the magic that happens when you let the ingredients speak for themselves — in the hands of a well-trained expert. JB 3715 S. Decatur Blvd., 702-257-6810, bonitomichoacanlasvegas.com

MTABEL BABA GHANOUSH Khoury’s

Khoury’s mtabel baba ghanoush exudes a rich, satisfying smokiness from the grilled eggplant. Coupled with pita hot from the oven, you’ve got an appetizer hearty enough to order

on its own as a meal. JB 9340 W. Sahara Ave. #106, 702-671-0005, khouryslv.com

SHAKSHUKA

Osi’s Kitchen

If you haven’t tried shakshuka, the Israeli-viaNorth Africa egg-tomatochili pepper stew, the kosher version at tiny Osi’s Kitchen is a vibrant introduction to the Mediterranean comfort food. Served in a small frying pan, the eggs come soft-poached, the sauce piquant but not fiery. On the side comes multiple bowls of pickled gherkins, carrots, cabbage and a side of puffy pita for sopping up all those savory drops. GT 4604 W. Sahara Ave. #6, 702-826-2727, osiskitchen.com

While this bustling Chinatown eatery describes itself as “conveyor-belt hot pot,” rest assured, there’s no factory food to be found at Chubby Cattle. Every hot pot dish starts with a choice of liquids that simmer in personal cooking stations. They come in flavor profiles with playful titles— “Heaven and Hell (Yin-Yang),” “Beautiful Tomato,” “Dragon King,” and “House Hellishly Spicy” — and are built with surprising ingredients that are far from industrial: Think goji berries, dates, angelica root, ginseng, and Tibetan cardamom. They’re nuanced, roiling baths that await your personalized additions, like Canadian geoduck, pork belly, fish balls, slices of Kobe beef, taro root, and wood-ear mushrooms. GT 3400 S. Jones Blvd. #15, 702-868-8808, chubbycattle.com

POZOLE ROJO

1203 E. Charleston Blvd., 702-906-1124

El Menudazo

Anyone who tells you there’s no good Mexican food in town likely doesn’t venture into the barrios of East Lake Mead, mining strip malls for hidden gems. Once a weekend-only restaurant, El Menudazo has not

GUACAMOLE

Bonito Michoacan Apparently, everyone on staff at Bonito can prepare a killer tableside guacamole because no

n CEVICHE AT MARISCOS PLAYA ESCONDIDA

P O Z O L E R O J O , H OT P OT: B R E N T H O L M E S ; C E V I C H E , S H A K S H U K A : C H R I S TO P H E R S M I T H ; R A Q U E L F L O R E S : J O N E S T R A D A

Chubby Cattle

Las Vegas. One in particular, the Mekong River-style noodle soup, typifies deepest South Vietnam cuisine. So deep south that it’s really closer to Cambodian, this soup is almost like a bouillabaisse, with shrimp, pork, and fish balls swimming in super-savory broth heavy with minced Asian aromatics. MW 3400 S. Jones Blvd. #8, 702-413-6868, districtonelv.com

n POZOLE ROJO AT EL MENUDAZO

only expanded to being open seven days a week, but also into an adjacent tenant space. That’s all the more opportunity to dine upon a hearty, unctuous staple of robust red broth generously stocked with short rib and hominy. Add crema and avocado, and you’ll be eating like a regular. JB 3100 E. Lake Mead #18 702-944-9706, menudazo.com

meant winter holidays at the many idyllic resorts nestled in the Alps. Whether at Chamrousse, Orcières-Merlette, or even as far north as the Swiss Eggli-La Videmanette, tradition calls for fondue, particularly using Raclette cheese. In this inventive rendition, Chef Bergerhausen puts dippable vegetables — as confit, purée or pickles — inside the silky, ripe cheese. MW In the Bellagio, 702-693-8100

UDON WITH EGG Marugame Monzo LV

Marugame Monzo LV’s handmade udon bowls might surprise firsttimers. If you order a soft-boiled egg addition, you can opt for a tempurafried version. It’s sizzled with a light touch and served on the side, leaving just a gossamer coating and a wisp of texture when you plop it into your dashi. GT 3889 Spring Mountain Road, 702-202-1177

RACLETTE SOUP Le Cirque

For young chef Wilfried Bergerhausen, growing up in the Cannes region

MEKONG RIVER-STYLE NOODLE SOUP District One

Chef Khai Vu came to the U.S. at age 11, and his restaurants District One and Le Pho have brought countless unique dishes to

GAMJATANG (PORK BACKBONE SOUP)

WORLDLY TASTES

TangTangTang may be known for its seolleongtang, or Korean ox bone soup, but we go for the pork backbone. As you probably guessed, the -tang suffix means soup, and this contender is a worthy challenger to brothy rivals such as Japanese ramen and Vietnamese pho. You have to navigate some tricky bones, but in return, you earn succulent pork bits swathed in a pungent broth sprinkled with anise-scented perilla leaves. And all for just $9.99. MY

Raquel Flores, tamale chef Garduño’s of Mexico

TangTangTang

6000 Spring Mountain Road, 702-464-5177

n HOT POT AT CHUBBY CATTLE

‘Nothing but chiles’ When Raquel Flores began cooking full-time, she didn’t entertain visions of herself, 50 years on, as the best-known tamale-maker in one of America’s biggest foodie towns, which is what she’s become at Garduño’s of Mexico in Fiesta Rancho casino. She’d left school after completing the fourth grade to stay home and help raise her 10 younger siblings while the adults worked the family farm in Zacatecas, Mexico. “We bought no food,” she says through a translator. “Everything came from our property.” By the age of 10, Flores and her sisters had learned to make tamales from their mother and grandmother for special meals during the May and December holidays. Their family kitchen may seem a world away today, but Flores has kept the spirit of it alive in Garduño’s modern commercial cooking space, through her devotion to traditional tamales. When she got a job as a kitchen helper there 18 years ago, she quickly noticed that the tamales were not as good as those back home. “They were putting all kinds of extra things in them … cheese, garbanzo beans, potatoes,” she says. “I told them that, other than masa (corn-flour dough) and pork, there should be nothing but chiles.” The head chef got wind of Flores’ critique and gave her the chance to win him over with her family recipe. She’s been making the restaurant’s tamales — some half a million to date, by company estimates — ever since. They’re so popular that the restaurant now sells them by the dozen, cash-and-carry, and the Fiesta Rancho location is the only one in the Garduño’s chain that uses its own tamale recipe — that is to say, Flores’ family recipe. Heidi Kyser (In the Fiesta Rancho casino, 702-638-5602)

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GO TEAM PROTEIN

beloved among Muslim and Hindu alike — proving that a love of spice knows no border. MW

Meats from snout to tail

700 E. Fremont Street, 702-906-2700, turmericflavorsofindia.com

CHICKEN CURRY n BARBACOA AT TACOS EL RODEO

Marché Bacchus French Bistro and Wine Shop

This morning menu extravaganza isn’t anything near an austere espresso-and-croissant Continental breakfast. But then, this is Nevada, not Nice. A selection of beef tenderloin slices nestled on a bed of creamy, truffle-infused grits with Parmesan cheese, mascarpone, poached egg, and red wine sauce, there’s more than a hint of South Carolina Lowcountry and Northern Italian influences in this brunch entrée. Devour it lakeside. GT 2620 Regatta Drive #106, 702-804-8008, marchebacchus.com

rice), sprinkle it all with sour grape powder, and finish the dish with the cilantro-laden chatni gashneez for a fully flavorful trip. JB 3854 W. Sahara Ave., 702-830-9495, lasvegaspersianfood.com

LAMB ROGAN JOSH n GRITS AND BEEF GRILLADES AT MARCHÉ BACCHUS

tortillas, garnish it with chopped onion and cilantro, and you, too, can partake of the Hildagoan experience. JB 2115 N. Decatur Blvd., 702-638-1100

by a sublime schmaltzinfused rice, layering poultry upon poultry. Pro tip: Order a side of the complex broth to wash it all down. JB 380 W. Sahara Ave., 626-616-6632, flockandfowl.com

Turmeric: Flavors of India

Turmeric bases most of its menu on Indian classics from both city and coast. But the most interesting are the specialties of the Kashmir region. With its rich, spicy red broth, lamb rogan josh is a dish

Paradise Place Jamaican Cuisine

The Kentucky Fried Chicken in Kingston used to serve goat curry because The Colonel knew: Curry is a Jamaican thing, too. The dish arrived with indentured East Indian laborers in 1845, and today East Indians are the largest ethnic minority in Jamaica. Unlike its Indian cousin, Jamaican curry is flavored with native pimenta berries, a.k.a. allspice, infusing it with warm, sweet notes of cinnamon, nutmeg, and clove. Paradise Place does serve goat, but we can’t resist the stewed-’til-ohso-tender chicken. MY 7365 W. Sahara Ave. #C, 702-834-8188

HAINAN CHICKEN BARBACOA

Tacos El Rodeo

On a stretch of North Decatur in a nondescript strip mall stands Tacos El Rodeo, where the marquee proudly exclaims “Barbacoa Estilo Hidalgo.” That means barbacoa in the style of Hidalgo, a state north of Mexico City. Their barbacoa is lamb cooked among hot rocks in a method akin to a pig roast. Swaddle the rich, cumin- and cinnamonlaced meat in handmade

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Flock & Fowl

It was a leap of faith that led chef Sheridan Su and his wife Jenny Wong into opening an effort of love in a restaurant centered around a relatively obscure Chinese poached-chicken dish. But crowds have overwhelmed the miniature spot as people flock to an incredibly subtle dish unfamiliar to American palates. The poached chicken is accompanied

KABOBS

Pro Kabob Persian Cuisine

Pro Kabob showcases an accessible introduction to a rather uncommon Middle Eastern cuisine: Afghani. With their namesake kabobs, your choice of protein (I suggest the beef ) is skewered and skillfully grilled, arriving juicy and well-seasoned atop flavorful rice. Get the qalebi palao (the brown

n BEEF KABOB AT PRO KABOB

B E E F G R I L L A D E S : B R E N T H O L M E S ; K A B O B , B A R B A C O A : C H R I S TO P H E R S M I T H ; G I R M A A B E B E : J O N E S T R A D A

TRUFFLED GRITS & BEEF GRILLADES

CRISPY PATA

Max’s Restaurant

Max’s is a Filipino-cuisine chain restaurant that serves an outstanding crispy pata. Deep-fried trotters (i.e., pig knuckles) with crisped skin exteriors crack open to reveal juicy, fatty pork within. Cut the unctuousness with some strong garlic rice, another Filipino staple that completes this plunge into porky goodness. JB 1290 E. Flamingo Road, 702-433-4554, maxsrestaurantusa.com

CEVAPI

IN THE RAW

Sushi and other surprises BATTERA

Chabuya

Essentially translated as “pressed,” battera is an Osakan style of sushi unlike the typical nigiri found at most sushi bars. At Chabuya, lightly cured mackerel topped with kombu paper is compressed atop sushi rice. The dish is intensely

fishy, so it’s not for the faint of heart, but adventurous diners will be rewarded by a blast of umami. JB 3210 S. Decatur Blvd. #104, 702-220-6060, chabuya.net

SPECIAL KITFO Abyssinia

Westerners react strangely to raw meat; some who happily eat steak tartare steer clear of similar dishes from other geographies, such as Ethiopian kitfo. And

that’s unfortunate, because Abyssinia’s special kitfo couldn’t be more, well, special. A serving of raw, diced beef stirred with spicy mitmita (an Ethiopian spice mix) and niter kibbeh (a clarified butter similar to ghee) is clean and filling. Mixed with mild ayibe (cottage cheese) and gomen (collard greens) on spongy injera makes for a dish that’s uncooked, yes, but very refined. JB

“JEWEL BOX” CHIRASHI

4780 W. Tropicana Ave. #108, 702-220-5304, abyssinialasvegas.com

5900 W. Charleston Blvd. #10 (702) 823-2110, hiroyoshi702.com

Sushi Hiroyoshi

Sure, sushi and sashimi can be gorgeous, especially at this Japanese culinary gem. But the aptly named “Jewel Box” chirashi is a showpiece of some of the finest fresh fish, pickled vegetables, and seasoned rice served in town. While the chirashi translates to “scattered,” this selection is artfully composed. JB

Prince Restaurant

Pronounced cha-vapi, these thumb-sized Balkan sausages are made in-house at this Eastern European bar and social club. Hearty and smoky, the links are layered between the halves of a flaky, piping-hot housemade bun and served with kaymak, a rich butter/cream cheese amalgam. JB 6795 W. Flamingo Road #A, 702-220-8322

COLITA DE PAVO Juarez Border Food

All Mexican restaurants have carnitas, and most have barbacoa. But very few have the regional specialty colita de pavo — turkey tail to you and me. Fried like carnitas, the shredded turkey is crispy and juicy in each bite. Stuff it in a burrito or, if you’re like me, go turkey torta by layering it between grilled bread slices slathered with mayo and guacamole. JB 412 N. Eastern Ave., 702-242-0055, jepborderfood.com

WORLDLY TASTES

‘I’m in the U.S. now!’ Girma Abebe, partner and chef Lucy Ethiopian Restaurant Girma Abebe knows how to wire a house, and he knows the fastest way to McCarran during rush hour. But long before he studied the electrical trade, long before he drove a cab in Las Vegas, he learned to cook. “Every Ethiopian has to learn to cook. It’s part of growing up,” says Abebe, chef, partner and manager at Lucy Ethiopian Restaurant. “In most families we are cooking at 8 years old. I had to help my mother. We have a big family — I have nine sisters and two brothers.” Cooking for his family in Addis Ababa allowed the young Abebe to develop culinary skills that would serve him well in Las Vegas. He and his wife immigrated to the U.S. in 2005 as part of a visa lottery program, originally settling in Nashville, Tennessee, near one of his sisters. Abebe was lured to Las Vegas by friends who were making a good living driving cabs. “Nashville is all like the countryside. There are cows in the roads. When I was finally coming to Las Vegas, I said, ‘This is America! I’m in the U.S. now!’” He drove a cab for eight years, saving money and planning with his partners to start a restaurant. On the Lucy menu, he’s particularly proud of his doro wat, a stew of slow-cooked chicken. The secret is berbere, a spice blend. “The hard part is you have to know how to make the combinations of spices,” he says. “And a lot of onions. We do like onions!” Andrew Kiraly (4850 W. Flamingo Road, 702-473-5999, lucyethiopianrestaurant.com)

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The sea — it’s so full of meat! SCUNGILI AL DIAVOLO

The Blind Pig Pub & Restaurant

WORLDLY TASTES

‘I don’t want to lose my authenticity’ Maggie Reb, chef and owner: La Maison de Maggie In a prior life, Maggie Reb was a flight attendant — but even then she was an avid cook who frequently made meals for fellow crew members on transatlantic flights. “There was a rule the pilots shouldn’t eat the same food (as each other), in case of food poisoning. But when I was on board, believe me, they were eating the same food. My food!” She later pursued a degree in hotel and restaurant management with the intent to open her own place. But she jettisoned a pasta concept in France for a stateside crêperie when, after a trip to Vegas, she noticed the dearth of “real” crêperies. Surely she could romance American palates with this French classic? There were a few bumps. It took two years for Reb to get a lease because, in a Catch-22, landlords wouldn’t lease to her without a visa — but she couldn’t get a visa without a lease. She finally found a landlord who “just decided it was worth taking the risk,” and she began reviving recipes and importing flours from France. “I knew I was doing something good, but I didn’t expect people would love it so much,” Reb says. Because of her success, she hasn’t felt pressure to compromise her recipes; however, there is the occasional customer who wants something more trendy, like crêpe burritos and fried crêpes, but Reb remains loyal to true French cuisine over faddish fusion. “I don’t want to lose my authenticity,” she says. Sticking to your guns — that’s as American as it gets. Jim Begley (3455 S. Durango Drive #112, 702-823-4466, lamaisondemaggie.com)

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Of the many ingredients that Italian cuisine elevates to sublime heights, shellfish is among the most exciting. And that includes scungili, or sea snails. At this bricklined establishment in the Panorama Towers, mollusk meat is paired in the traditionally fiery al diavolo red sauce for an oceanic delicacy. Enjoy with a glass of white wine and give a toast to “The Boot.” GT 4515 Dean Martin Drive #1, 702-430-4444, theblindpiglasvegas.com

“KING FISH”

Big Jerk Caribbean

It’s all irie at this new food truck that serves Jamaican recipes. And that means more than just jerk chicken, including the deep-fried “King Fish” cod sided with zippy escovitch, a vinegary condiment of onion, peppers, and carrots. Add traditional starches like rice and peas or plantains for a full island meal. GT 1830 N. Martin Luther King Blvd., 702-427-5267, bigjerkcaribbean.com

KERALA FISH CURRY Turmeric: Flavors of India

For an enticing tropical dish, Turmeric’s Kerala fish curry unites fried sea bream with curry leaf and coconut milk. With a side of with sweet coconut rice, it’s a culinary passport from the neon-tinted East Fremont District to the verdant Western Ghats. GT 700 Fremont St., 702-906-2700, turmericflavorsofindia.com

GOLDEN TROUT AMANDINE

Andre’s Bistro & Bar

The recently opened Andre’s Bistro & Bar is bringing classic French bistro fare to the ’burbs. Among such classics is the golden trout amandine, a filet finished with a brown butter sauce, nutty and slightly sweet. It’s a staple on bistro menus throughout France, but there’s nothing standard about this superbly prepared rendition at Andre’s, at once rich and delicate. JB 6115 S. Fort Apache Road #112, 702-798-7151, andresbistroandbar.com

n FUSION FARE AT KOMEX

IN WHICH THE ‘CLEVER CATEGORIES’ PREMISE IS MOMENTARILY CONFOUNDED Don’t put your labels on this food!

YAMAIMO SOMEN Kyara

Obscure vegetables are the norm in global cuisine. In Japan, there’s yamaimo, a mountain yam not commonly found on valley menus. At Kyara, the tuber is shredded like pasta, julienned and served cold in a sharp dashi broth. Word of warning: Eat this dish quickly or risk the crisp yam devolving into sliminess which, in Japanese cuisine, is not a deterrent, but may challenge American palates. JB 6555 S. Jones Blvd. #20, 434-8856, kyaravegas.com M AG G I E R E B , K H A I V U : J O N E S T R A DA ; KO M E X : B R E N T H O L M E S

FRESH FROM THE OCEAN

WORLDLY TASTES

‘All-in’ Khai Vu, owner: District One Kitchen & Bar and Le Pho Vietnamese Kitchen Khai Vu, owner of District One Kitchen & Bar on South Jones Boulevard and the Le Pho Vietnamese Kitchen in Downtown, hails from one of the most contested pins on the past century’s geopolitical map: Ho Chi Minh City. And while he left Vietnam with his parents as a youth in 1993, nearly 25 years after the Fall of Saigon, venturing to the U.S. at that time was nevertheless a leap of faith. “We moved to Orange County for one year, and my dad learned about the restaurant business,” says Vu. An uncle had already immigrated to California and opened an eatery. Once his father had learned to run his own venture, burgeoning Las Vegas beckoned. “We decided to move here before Chinatown was built,” he says. Today, pho, Vietnam’s savory national noodle soup, is about as popular as

BULGOGI QUESADILLAS

KoMex Fusion

Some forms of fusion cuisine are a fascinating product of culinary cross-pollination. Korean and Mexican cuisines originally commingled in Los Angeles, where the two communities lived and worked next to each other; in the case of KoMex, the Yi family owned Mexican markets where they mixed Korean ingredients from home with those available at work. Those dishes, such as bulgogi quesadillas and daeji bulgogi tacos, now reflect their lives

tacos al pastor, but in the mid ’90s it was still obscure. It was a gamble to open a Vietnamese restaurant. “My mom and my dad went all-in.” The result was the pioneering Pho So 1 on West Spring Mountain Road. Vu worked with his parents on evenings and weekends through high school, and then while he studied finance and business at College of Southern Nevada. They had hoped he would find a new career track outside the service sector. But the 2008 crash took the shine off the corporate life for Khai, and the restaurant industry kept whispering in the back of his mind. So, four years ago, he secured a location and financing for District One, without telling his parents until he had the key to the front door in his hand — uncommon in traditional, family-focused Vietnamese culture. Today, Vu’s innovative dishes (like whole Maine lobster pho) and his beautifully designed establishments are garnering worldwide press as well as locals’ loyalty. It was another all-in gamble that paid off. Greg Thilmont (District One, 3400 S. Jones Blvd. #8, 702-413-6868, districtonelv.com; Le Pho, 353 E. Bonneville Ave. #115, 702-382-0209, lephodtlv.com)

— and the diversity of our city — on KoMex’s menu. JB 633 N. Decatur Blvd., 702-646-1612; 4155 S. Buffalo Drive, 702-778-5566, komexexpress.com

TORTILLA SACROMONTE

Bazaar Meat by José Andrés

Bazaar Meat is so much more than a steakhouse. It’s a culinary cathedral, showcasing dishes that challenge the palate. A prime example is the tortilla Sacromonte, an homage to the Romani

neighborhood in Granada of the same name, which delivers a trio of offal — crispy bits of kidney, sweetbreads and bone marrow — atop an omelet finished with a soft egg. Decadent and daring, this rich dish isn’t for the faint of heart. JB Inside SLS, 702-761-7610

SPINACH PIE

Village Center. Blending culinary influences from Greece to Lebanon, the house specialty is goldenbaked phyllo dough loaded with ricotta, feta, and spinach. The addition of green onions and fresh dill make it the most fragrant fatayer or savory spanakopita in town. GT

BANCHAN

“National Technical Qualification” in South Korea as a craftsman cook in four cuisines: Chinese, Japanese, Western and Korean. So, it’s no wonder her banchan, lovely little dishes featuring fermented and seasoned vegetables served with every Korean meal, are the best in town. In traditional Korean cuisine, you receive three, five or seven small bowls, but quantity is no matter because the sprouts, leafy vegetables, kimchi, and occasional sliced omelet include bottomless refills. MY

Chef and owner Sung Hee Choi earned her

5600 Spring Mountain Road #A, 702-333-4845

1910 Village Center Circle #7, 702-8383221, sultansgrilllv.com

Sultan’s Grill

On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, you can order the spinach pie at Sultan’s Grill in Summerlin’s

Kkulmat Kitchen

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Trattoria Nakamura-Ya

Wafuu pasta highlights an amalgam of cuisines — a melding of Italian and Japanese dating back to the post-World War II era. It combines Italian pastas and sauces with traditional Japanese ingredients, resulting in some strange-sounding combinations that aren’t so strange when you taste them. Exhibit A: uni (sea urchin) and tomato cream sauce with linguini. The urchin’s brininess provides a foil for a rich tomato cream sauce — an early form of fusion cuisine that will delight modern palates. JB 5040 W. Spring Mountain Road #5, 702-251-0022, nakamurayalv.com

ADJARSKI KHACHAPURI

Forte Tapas

After a fateful Diners, Drive-ins and Dives appearance, Nina Manchev’s Forte has evolved from a dark, somewhat seedy space into a brightly lit venue with an expansive retail section. Thankfully, certain menu staples, such as the adjarski khachapuri, have remained constant. The national dish of Georgia is certainly befitting its accolade: canoe-shaped bread layered in a funky, feta-like suluguni cheese that serves as a vessel for an over-easy egg. The gooey combination is a cardiologist’s nightmare, but a diner’s dream. JB 4180 S. Rainbow Blvd. #806, 702-220-3876, barforte.com

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THE DUMPLING GANG

upscale gelato at this Australian import emporium. Even better, you can watch staffers create inventive flavor combos like luxurious poached figs in Marsala and snappy pear with rhubarb. It’s July, so you might want to finish your scoops before venturing out into our very own triple-digit Outback. GT

Wrapping it up in a package of pure flavor

PELMENI

Café Mayakovsky

Adjacent to the remnants of the Liberace Museum is the valley’s only Russian restaurant/nightclub, Café Mayakovsky. Among the hearty, cold-weather dishes meant to warm you during your Siberian countryside jaunts are pelmeni, a miniature meat-filled dumplings akin to ravioli. Finished with a dollop of smetna, a mild sour cream akin to crème fraîche, these tiny packages of flavor are a real treat no matter the weather. JB 1775 E. Tropicana Ave. #30, 702-848-1775, cafemayakovsky.com

NUMB-TASTE WONTON Chengdu Taste

There are many good reasons to visit Chengdu Taste, a mecca of spicy Szechuan fare hidden in a corner of Chinatown, but the most memorable is the numb-taste wontons. Served in a fiery red oil spiked with Szechuan peppercorns, these dumplings seems to get more spicy with each bite, until your lips are tingling and numb. Spice hounds will find the rich flavor and intense sensation strangely compelling. JB 3950 Schiff Drive, 702-437-7888

2010 Festival Plaza Drive #130, 702-848-1688, gelatomessina.com n ADJARSKI KHACHAPURI AT FORTE TAPAS

CHICKEN BLINTZES

Tina’s Gourmet Sausage House

A bastion of all things Eastern European, Tina’s deals in a variety of both dry and prepared goods. Among the latter are some remarkable blintzes, pan-fried and stuffed with ground chicken hinting of dill; a crisped shell enwraps moist, juicy meat in a super-sized version of an eggroll. A limited number are available each day, so order early and often. JB 2101 S. Decatur Blvd. #22, 702-850-8333, tinasgourmetsausage. com

PIEROGIS

Pierogi Café

It’s surprisingly hard to find good Polish food in the valley. But it’s worth the hunt — even if it takes you somewhere as unlikely as the Fantastic Indoor Swap Meet.

That’s where the Pierogi Café serves up wonderful Eastern European dumplings. I recommend the Sweet Cheese, with its hints of vanilla — and be sure to get them pan-fried for texture and smokiness. Made in-house from scratch by a pair of friends from Poland, these pierogis bring a worthy taste of Warsaw to the valley. JB 1717 S. Decatur Blvd., 702-370-3493 pierogicafelv.com

SAVE ROOM FOR DESSERT! A sweet ending to a globetrotting meal

FLAVOR COMBOS

Gelato Messina

In a sleek Downtown Summerlin space, chill out with a cool cup of

SAFFRON RICE PUDDING Standard and Pour Kitchen + Bar Persian cuisine drew from a culture that spanned the ancient world. This particular dish at Standard & Pour has more contemporary connections: Chef John Courtney uses the recipe of his wife, originally from Iran. This rich, slightly sweet, chilled pudding is flavored with rosewater and several classic spices (including saffron from Iran) and comes with sides of pomegranate, dates, and pistachios. This is a dessert worthy of Cyrus the Great, with ingredients plucked from across his kingdom, from the Nile to the Himalayas. MW 11261 S. Eastern Ave., #200. 702-629-5523, standardandpourlv. com

A D J A R S K I K H A C H A P U R I : C H R I S TO P H E R S M I T H

LINGUINI UNI TOMATO CREAM

MIX IT UP THIS SUMMER

Cock t

ard Poll

with these fun twists on favorite, refreshing classics!

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Daiquiri des Caraïbes

Summer Fling

Up in Smoke

The Cuban-based classic daiquiri takes a Caribbean cruise to Martinique, highlighting Rhum Clement Canne Bleue, a fresh-pressed sugarcane Agricole R(h)um, accented with a touch of pure Mahina coconut, Caribbean pineapple and Blue Curaçao, taking you on a vacation in a glass.

This aperitif-style Sangria, light and dangerously easy drinking, keeps you coming back every sip with a bright balance of bittersweet, sour & savory.

Mexico’s beloved cocktail, The Paloma, takes a steroid shot, beefing up with Mezcal in lieu of Tequila, plus bittersweet Americano and a refreshing dosage of a grapefruit shandy.

•1.5 oz. Rhum Clement Canne Bleue •0.75 oz. Giffard Caribbean Pineapple Liqueur •0.5 oz. Rhum Clement Mahina Coconut Liqueur •0.25 oz. Giffard Blue Curaçao •1 oz. Fresh Lime Juice •0.25 oz. Simple Syrup

•1 (750ml) Bonterra Rosé •8 oz. Tito’s Handmade Vodka •6 oz. Contratto Aperitif •8 oz. Homemade Strawberry-Beet Syrup* •8 oz. Fresh Lemon Juice •16 oz. Filtered Water •1 bunch Fresh Basil •1 cup Fresh Strawberries •2 Whole Lemons

Combine all ingredients in a mixing tin with ice, shake, strain over crushed ice and impress your guests with an appropriate tiki garnish.

Combine all ingredients in a large mixing pitcher, stir ingredients, pour over ice and garnish with fresh fruit and basil. Refrigerate or add ice to pitcher to keep chilled. *Strawberry-Beet Syrup: In a medium saucepan, combine 1 pint of strawberries (halved) with 2 medium beets, add 2 cups of sugar with 2 cups water and allow to simmer for 25-30 minutes. Strain, cool, transfer and refrigerate.

@BreakthruBevNV @BreakthruVegas @BreakthruBevNVLasVegas

•2 oz. Veras Joven Mezcal •0.75 oz. St. George Bruto Americano •0.75 oz. Fresh Lime Juice •0.5 oz. Monin Ruby Red Grapefruit Syrup •Fill: Stiegl Grapefruit Radler Combine all ingredients in a mixing tin with ice, shake and strain simultaneously with Stiegl over fresh ice. Garnish with a grapefruit wedge dusted in Tajin.

Meth {THE }

LUNCHES

The care and feeding of a drug addict by K I M F O S T E R

photography E M I LY W I L S O N

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here is a meth addict eating chicken yakitori on our back patio. Actually, we are all eating chicken yakitori — me, my husband, David, our girls, Lucy, who is 10, and Edie, who is 8. And Charlie, the guy who is working on our house, who has four days clean. It’s a fall day in Las Vegas. The sky is clear. It’s 72 degrees, which is like a small miracle if you are from New York City. Which we are. It feels good to see the girls in shorts, and to eat on the back deck, while the Northeast is frozen under the Polar Vortex. David and I lived in New York City for 25 years both together and separately. I know that city like it’s my skin, but something is happening — I’m starting to like living in the Mojave. I like the hot sun and wide-open skies. I like that a few months in, I’ve found my people — artists, writers, circus people, Elvis impersonators, lounge singers, weirdos. Vegas is full of weirdos. That’s part of its charm. I barely miss New York. It shocks me to even write this. I want to say that Vegas is easier and kinder than New York, but I can’t hit a grocery store without being accosted by homeless people hoping for spare change, or a young mother who tells me, with teary eyes, how short she is at the end of the month and could I buy diapers for her baby? It is not easier and kinder for a lot of people. It’s like 1980s New York here, except with big open skies that turn shockingly pink and violet at twilight. And meth. Meth is everywhere. You can’t walk a mile without seeing someone with the telltale hollowness etched into their sinking faces. Vegas feels like the old New York my friends back home whine about and long for — gritty and real, unrelenting, exciting and unforgiving. High highs, low lows. The beautiful and the ugly, the easy and the impossible, all plastered together in one glossy, throbbing, well-lit city. Maybe this is why I am falling in love with Las Vegas. It’s NYC the way I remember it. We live here only two weeks before we meet Charlie, the first of several meth addicts. It doesn’t take long for meth to become a huge part of our everyday lives.

+ + + + + Lucy passes a platter of chicken skewers to Charlie. Thigh bits swim in soy sauce, fish sauce, lime, garlic, ginger, rice wine, some cilantro, and a few chopped up Thai chilies. We fell in love with yakitori when we were in Tokyo the month before. David is a producer of the Vegas show, Absinthe, and its sister show was playing in Tokyo. I made a silent promise during that trip that yakitori, in one form or another — particularly grilled, heavily salted, crunchy chicken skins — would become a staple.

I throw all the thighs on the grill, on skewers. I like a hot fire, and I like my chicken bits slightly blackened and grilled up crunchy, but still soft and supple on the inside. I like to smell the last steak I made on the grill infused into my chicken. Edie takes a large spoonful of jasmine rice and ignores the salad, just simple greens that I quickly toss with lime juice, olive oil, salt, and a handful of cilantro, and chopped spring onion. There are wedges of fried up scallion pancakes. Charlie puts three on his plate, heaped

with all the chicken and veg. He doesn’t think you can get scallion pancakes anywhere but a Chinese restaurant. He thinks it must’ve taken me hours in the kitchen. I want him to continue on with his fantasy, but I can’t help it — I can never keep anything food-related to myself — and I tell him how easy it is to make scallion pancakes, and the three ingredients required, and how anyone with half a cerebellum and a hot plate can do it. David, hell-bent on cutting carbs, ignores the pancakes for salad and chicken. We talk about the work Charlie is doing in the casita. Charlie and David are transforming it from a dirty, overrun garage, infested with black widows, into a light, airy studio, one that will house David’s work as a theatre producer, mine as a writer, and the children as constant makers of one thing or another. There will be windows that let in light, and glass doors that open into what will be the garden. It’s David’s ideas and Charlie’s hands that will make it happen. They talk about the inner workings of a miter saw. I pretend to listen while Charlie fills his plate again. Then he tells us, kind of abruptly, that he hasn’t heard from Tessy, his wife, today. She is a meth addict, too, and he knows what phone silence means. That little sign — her simply not picking up the phone for several hours — is a bomb that flattens him. We see it land, all except for the kids, who are joyful and clueless. She has started using again. It’s what always happens. In just three months, we have seen Charlie and Tessy through a lifetime of crises — temporary sobriety, meth binges, two stints in jail, three moves, one eviction, several religious, end-of-the-world texts on our phones, a dozen different phones and phone numbers (meth addicts go through “Obama Phones” like packs of cigarettes), and a stay in a psychiatric hospital. Every day brings some kind of cruel surprise, some hardship that would pummel me, but is just business as usual for them. Their lives are a tedious wreckage, and it never becomes more clear than when we eat lunch together. He is quiet about Tessy in front of the kids. I watch his face and wonder if he is more scared of Tessy being high or Tessy pulling him back into his own high, which she always does. Maybe both. What I know is that when he leaves our house, he will run straight to her. He will say he is going to rescue her, but they will drown each other. They will get high together, and he will pillage the four sober days he has under him. J U LY 2 0 1 7

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Kitchen magic: The

On the weekends, when David is home and the girls are out of school, we all eat lunch together. During the week, when Charlie works a full day, I make him a lunch he eats alone at the same table on our back deck. I don’t set the table or put out bowls. I make a plate, a big one, with several servings of each food, usually leftovers from the night before. I put out a cold glass bottle of water and a glass. He prays over the food, and I go back inside, writing or washing dishes. When he finishes, he brings in a neatly cleaned and scraped plate and drops it into the sink. He thanks me profusely and swears I am a brilliant cook. I don’t mind hearing this. When we are all there, and Charlie is working on the house, we all eat together. One big happy, weird, extended family that isn’t a family. And meth is always there. I no longer ask myself why there is a using meth addict eating with us, around our table, next to our children, eating our grilled chicken thighs, but that wasn’t always the case. In the beginning, there were a lot of questions.

{AUG UST} It is natural to call them to lunch. Charlie and Mike are jackhammering cement in our backyard in 107-degree heat for $20 an hour. Charlie and Mike work on our house, in the Huntridge section of Downtown. Our house is old, built in 1944. It pre-

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author in her kitchen, immensely. As the Lexapro setdates even the Strip. Some of mid-preparation. tles into my system, and David the neighbors who grew up Opposite, a plate of and I paint a crisp white over around here refer to it as “the her Shaking Beef, a the psychiatric hospital green, Snow White House” because Vietnamese dish. I start to see how this house of all the ivy and the big, leafy can change, how it can be ours. green tree in the front yard, We hire an exterminator. We so the opposite of an organic throw out the sad debris of other people’s Vegas landscape of ficus and barrel cactus. lives. We buy two excruciatingly beautiful Maybe that’s the reason we bought it — beantique couches, a gloriously battered farm cause it could be a quiet, ivy-covered refuge, table from the 1800s and a primitive sidesomething not very New York City and not board. And we start to plan, to look forward very Vegas. Something new and all our own. to what the Snow White House can be. A fun reinvention. An adventure to shake out That’s where Charlie and Mike come in. the cobwebs. David calls the Nevada Day Laborer Office But the house is a hot mess. Renters have and asks if he can get a couple guys to break up left behind broken, cheap furniture, and the concrete with a jackhammer. The office conwalls are dirty and painted a dingy greynects day laborers with jobs. There is only the green. Cockroaches, the big ones that look exchange of cash, no taxes, no garnishments. like tiny puppies and run really fast up the A little cash for people down on their luck, but walls, have taken residence. I find a pissedwilling to put in an honest day’s work. off mouse in my sink. And the outside of Mike is white, in his late 50s. He had been the house is covered in empty cicada shells, a rootless tramp his whole life. No family. No which the girls collect and keep in tin cans, ties. Just a backpack, a network of homeless much to my consternation. veterans and old pals who fill up the vagrant It is the most depressing house I have ever hotels, and a gambling problem that he embeen in. My mood quickly absorbs all the braces with joyful clarity. He came to Vegas sadness left behind, and I teeter from being to minister to his gambling addiction. He obsessed with the vermin to being sucked knows he can’t keep a dollar in his pocket, down the black hole of sadness. I am either but he doesn’t care. He works hard when searching the walls frantically for roaches or he needs money. He accepts he will always slumped into myself, bleak and worried. be a gambler. That he is an addict. And that David responds to my plummeting mood he doesn’t want to stop. Mike is a walking, and strange obsessions by doing two things: talking lesson on accepting and embracing He (1) gets me to a doctor, who puts me on yourself, welts and all. anti-anxiety meds, and (2) paints. These help

Charlie is in his 30s, boastful, blonde, darkly tanned from sleeping in the desert for the last three months with Tessy. He wants to do the hard bits, jackhammering relentlessly, rarely taking breaks. He calls Mike “old man” and tries to be the most useful one. He is from Texas and has big Texas manners. I am Ma’am and always will be. The day before, we cooked pork butts all day long in the Caja China. I have one left over, for another day of bo ssam. No one will complain. I warm it in the oven and tear off warm, soft chunks of meat. I set the pork out on the table with little bowls of David Chang’s quick pickles, pickled watermelon, homemade kimchi, rice, and ginger scallion sauces. It takes 15 minutes to pull together the leftovers. I call everyone to lunch. What I don’t know is that meth addicts often don’t eat. Not really. Mike dives in. Charlie is silent. He sits there looking at us, looking at his empty plate. I shove a platter of food in his hands and tell him to eat. He forces himself, to be polite, but he’s a great actor — addicts are — and it doesn’t register with me that he is resisting the food. Mike cleans off three plates full of pork and sides, and talks about his love of Chinese food, mainly dan dan noodles, while Charlie chokes down two. Charlie tells us about his family, Tessy, and his five boys. He talks about working in his father-in-law’s plumbing business. He talks about love, and staying together, and Jesus. He talks about God a lot. All of this makes me wonder how he ended up as a day laborer, how he came to be jackhammering in our backyard. I wonder if it was the econ-

omy. Had the business gone belly up? Had he simply been downsized? It could easily have been the economy. He talks so intimately about his children and his wife. I pass around the sauces and say nothing. Later, I find Charlie in the backyard, bent over, crying. He tells me that seeing Lucy and Edie hanging out, everyone eating together, reminded him of his kids. He told me their names are Josh, Jackson, Evan, Daniel, and Cade. And even though he had spoken about them like they all lived together and did things as a family, he tells me that Child Protective Services took them away, and he hasn’t seen them in months. They are back in Texas living with Tessy’s uncle, a pastor, and his wife. He tells me that he is so fucked up on meth that he barely thinks of them, that they are some intangible whisper of smoke in his head, and that seeing us, remembering what this feels like, having a family, talking about normal things, forces him to look at what he has done, and what he’s lost. And this is intensely painful. Charlie gets high after he leaves that night.

cept for bringing him lunches. He is always busy and moving, but sometimes not really doing anything. He might take an hour to build himself a worktable to cut something, or a podium out of leftover wood for his list and his pencil. His mind is addled with meth. He’s a talented carpenter, tile layer, plumber, and workman, but he is also hopelessly brain-dead. This is something he will have to live with, his Swiss cheese head, because meth is a lifelong affair. The success rate for getting off meth is about 3 percent. Dismal. Charlie knows he will probably never do it. He talks about it openly when we eat together. He tries to stop. He never stops trying. He’s the rat on the wheel, and it keeps spinning. Here’s how it works: He comes to work disgusted with himself that he did meth. But he’s better on meth. He works harder. He’s happier. He has less drama in his life. Meth takes away all the pain, the turmoil. He talks fast, a machine gun of words and ideas. This time it will work, he tells us. This time, he won’t do meth again. This time everything is different. The circle wheels around. He disappears for the withdrawal, but after he comes back to life again, I make him an omelet with baby arugula, from a small pot I hope will be my garden someday. I add goat cheese. He watches, and something about the simplicity of the omelet makes him want to cook. Lots of questions. He borrows my Jeep to go to Walmart for groceries. He is trying to find normal again, and cooking for himself seems like something sane, non-tweaking people do. Drug addicts do not keep a full pantry or fresh herbs in the fridge. He wants to be the kind of person who has fresh herbs on hand. I teach him how to make the omelet — the heat, the butter, the flipping, the spectrum of ingredients, the-anything-you-have-in-thefridge no-rule of making an omelet. This cooking heals him. He starts cooking for his wife, and his friend Salvador, a meth addict who also has zero days clean and lives with them in a pay-by-the-week apartment complex in the drug alley that is East Fremont Street. The wheel turns. When he gets a few days clean, Charlie buys scallions and salt and cream cheese and hot sauce. He cooks and feels the old life coming back into him. He feels like he can do it this time. I believe him. Because I’m stupid, and I have no idea this is the pattern, the endless, circuitous pattern, where all hope is

He says that seeing us, remembering what this feels like, having a family, forces him to look at what he has done, and what he’s lost.

{SEPTEMBER} Mike disappears after a couple weeks, but not before I blow his mind and make him dan dan noodles. Charlie stays on. Charlie comes nearly every day now. David gives him a chore list. I ignore him, ex-

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House warming: The author, her husband, David, and their daughters Edie and Lucy in their Downtown home, long after Charlie exited their lives.

false hope, and addicts have good intentions but horrendous rates of success. He tells me what he cooked. Salmon over greens. Noodles with shrimp. He asks about Chinese black vinegar. His interest grows under the sobriety. For a couple of days. It’s like having a toddler in the house, exclaiming joy at every color, every ray of sunshine, every tiny blessing. Then he and Tessy have a fight, or they just watch TV and are bored, or whatever triggers them into using. He uses and feels like a god for a couple days, then tumbles into the dark hole of withdrawal. A shell again. Boom, that wheel. He stops caring about food, or anything. After staying up for days, he sleeps for days. Once Edie found him face-down in the casita. “Charlie is dead in the casita,” she tells me, breathless. He is passed out but breathing. David checks his mouth for obstructions. He tries to rouse him, but he is lead. This is the first time Charlie’s addiction is noticeable to the kids. That evening, while he sleeps on the cement floor of the casita, we eat dinner on the patio. The kids eat sukiyaki noodle bowls, their favorite, a dashi base, rigged with soy sauce, sake, sugar, thin slices of rare lamb, enoki, Nappa cabbage, udon noodles, thick slabs of tofu, and a few loud spurts of Sriracha. For David and I, a pan of bacalao al forno, salt cod baked on top of thin wafers of potato, onions, peppers, briny olives, and lemon halves that get squirted warm and tart over the fish. We eat and talk about this dude like he isn’t passed out in our backyard. We talk about firing him. We talk about what is good for us and what is enabling. We talk about boundaries, how I struggle with mine, how David has them drawn in great, bold, permanent strokes around him and us. We talk about Charlie’s work pace, how it is suffering, how Charlie is suffering. We talk about how we can’t fix him and have to protect the kids, and ourselves. We talk about how we just want the work in the casita done, and how we want Charlie to finish. We wonder whether the lunches are a good idea.

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+ + + + + David wakes up Charlie at 9 p.m. He is sobbing and remorseful. A mess. We tell him Edie found him, and he immediately gets where this is going. We double-cop him. David goes stern and hard, pissed-off dad. No tolerance. I go soft and talk about how we will never let his drug-addict behavior touch our kids, although it has. I know that because we explained it to the kids, all of it: what meth is, how to tell if someone is on meth, why Charlie and Tessy lost their children, why we gave him a job — because he is talented in areas we need talent, and to give him a chance. We also explain that we can give the chance to someone who needs it, but we cannot make them take it. I see they are imagining themselves there, in the shoes of Charlie’s kids, thinking about what it must be like to lose their parents, and they ask a barrage of questions. Then, when we have fed their curiosity, they dismiss it, finding it so otherworldly that it could never happen to them. Like we were telling them an ultra-ugly fairy tale. It has to be fiction, right? Losing your parents is serious shit. This makes them sad in a very deep place. But they are resilient, and they bounce off to their bedroom. I hear them laughing. They are fine. Charlie is still a remorseful, sobbing mess, but just like a switch had been thrown, he brightens and tells us he has news. Great news. News that will change everything. News that will make him quit drugs. News that is a blessing from his God. He tells us Tessy is pregnant.

{O C T O B E R } Charlie looks bleary. Hunched over. He shaves his head, cuts off his beard. He doesn’t come through the house anymore to get to the casita. No more stopping in with the day’s news, or problems, or drama. Now he goes through the side gate and never tells me he’s here. He’s late some days, cryptic about when he’s coming in. He works, but barely, it’s all uneasy busy work, moving around. David is getting more and more disgruntled with his progress. Charlie moves like a ghost in the backyard, there but not there. Some days he never shows up at all. He’s largely unreachable by phone or text. He tells me he’s doing meth, which I know. Duh. I’m like a meth expert these days. He says Tessy is gone, disappeared. Last time he heard she was living with a guy in a different shitty motel on Fremont. “Using and she’s pregnant?” I ask. I can’t hide the disdain I feel. He nods. “Did she use with your last baby?” “For six of the nine months.” “Fix the problem, Charlie,” I say. I’m hard and unyielding. I have no compassion. “You and Tessy have to go to rehab. Get a counselor. Stop white-knuckling. Fix the pain,” I tell him. At the word “pain,” he cries. It’s a flood. He tells me about the pain. How his dad sexually abused him and how he had, in turn, abused his sister, and how he would never abuse this baby, he would never, not this time, things were going to be different, and it’s a jumble, all this confession and crazy that he is spewing.

He looks in the mirror and can’t stand himself. He changes his hair, his clothes. He shoots meth into his veins. He tries to be the person this isn’t. But it’s always there in the mirror, this person he hates. He is both victim and perpetrator. And the wheel keeps turning. Perhaps I might do meth, too, if I were Charlie, if I carried that pain and shame around with me all day, every day, like a great iron balloon, weighing me down, crushing everything, squeezing me until I’m flat. Meth takes all that away. Which is why he will never quit it.

{NOVEMBER} Charlie finishes off the Shaking Beef at lunch — thin wisps of chuck grilled, crunchy and rare, and tossed in a mixture of Thai chilies, garlic, fish sauce, oyster sauce, soy sauce, lime, and sugar, and served on watercress tossed with a light vinaigrette. He leans in and tells David and me he has something to tell us. These announcements are wearing us to the bone. Turns out his friend, Salvador, showed up at the apartment with drugs and a pocket full of works and wanted to get high. Charlie smiles and tells us he told the friend “No,” that they would not do drugs. He tells us this with a big smile. Salvador, breaks down and tells him about the voices he hears, how the voices have been with him since he was a kid, how he was almost pulled under the bed by spirits and whispering monsters when he was a boy, how no one believed him. How a shrouded figure follows him around. Has always followed him around. Still does. How meth makes the shrouded man go away. But then Charlie talks to Salvador about Jesus and his plan, and convinces him to not get high. Salvador agrees. “Best night of my life,” Charlie tells us. And he stabs at the drunken slabs of beef with his fork and smiles. Salvador relapses the following night. Charlie stays clean for another week.

{DECEMBER} I’m making steamed pork, mixed with shiitakes, garlic, and fish sauce. In the steamer basket I add thin strips of ginger and pieces of salted fish. It’s a Charles Phan recipe that has come to be an easy lunch staple. Our Chinese neighbor in New York called it “Chinese Meatloaf,” and the name sticks with the kids. I put out some jasmine rice, a few leftover, cold Imperial Rolls. I quick-sauté some bok

choy with bits of garlic and fish sauce. I ask Charlie about the new baby that’s coming. He hasn’t been working for us as much, a few days a week. David gave him very specific projects with lots of limits. He has trouble focusing, more and more all the time, but the bathroom in the casita is almost tiled, and we want to see it done. I wonder about this baby. If she will be born meth-addicted, if she will be hurt, neglected. If she will be fucked up with her fucked-up parents. Of course she will be fucked up. It is unavoidable, even when they are on their best behavior. I also wonder if she will end up in our care. Yeah, I think about this, and in a chain of thoughts, I imagine her with us. And this makes me want more kids. Makes me want to love the fucked-up kids. The ones who had been dealt a bad hand from the beginning. David and I talk about becoming foster parents. Worlds are opening up in my head, and David is kinda on board. Kinda. I put out the Chinese Meatloaf lunch, and we talk about none of this. But Charlie is talking, rattling on. He is a child we know like our own, and we know innately he is high again. Tessy has returned home after her affair, he tells us, and he sees clear sailing ahead. Instead of concerns, he talks about remarrying Tessy on a beach in Florida. He draws the picture for us, how he will be barefoot in khaki pants and she will be in a sundress and all of us will be there. Our girls will carry flowers and throw petals at their feet. David takes a full bite of that gingery, fishy pork, and says nothing. He doesn’t engage in the crazy. Charlie talks of throwing Tessy a baby shower, and he hopes I will throw it. I am the shower-thrower-type, for sure, but I can’t bring myself to get near this. There is so little to celebrate here. He keeps going, his plans, his dreams, how he will rent a house for the three of them, how he will get the other boys back, even though they have long been adopted, how this baby is a gift from God, a sign to him that everything will be okay. He doesn’t seem concerned that Tessy is probably five months along, has used meth all of her pregnancy, and has not been to a doctor. I become so angry I stop cooking for him. I stop making the lunches. We stop inviting him to join us for meals. I cut him off without explaining why. I use food as a weapon. Not that he notices. Addicts only see themselves.

{JANUARY} The love-fest doesn’t last long. Tessy moves a drug addict and prostitute into their studio apartment. Charlie gets pissed and borrows our Jeep and moves his stuff out. “She is jeopardizing my sobriety,” he says. Two days later, he shows up for work in the casita. With Tessy. “Tessy is going to help me work,” he says. Everything they say is as impermanent as steam. One minute they are madly petting each other like teenagers. The next they are screwing other people, breaking bonds like they are toothpicks, finding the soft spot in the other and poking at it until it bleeds. I stop listening. I turn into David, which I should’ve done long ago. When Charlie speaks, it’s like a lonely, clueless wind in David’s ear. This is harder for me because I am an aching ball of nerves. I want to connect, ask questions. I like the drama, too. I like to be pulled into these crazy worlds because I get to feel like the sane one, the one who has her shit together. But I’m over that now. This is too much. Charlie whispers to me that Tessy’s uncle just died in rehab. I see her eyes are ringed red. I pull her in and hug her, hard. She is uncomfortable and wiggles out of my grasp, laughing nervously. I make a mental note about being too touchy-feely. Tessy, mostly, watches him work. She calls me “Mrs. Foster,” which makes me feel like an old lady. She smokes cigarettes and sweeps a little to busy her hands. Her belly is huge, like a giant wasp hive protruding from her stick body. She has all kinds of social anxiety. Her leg jackhammers fast, always. She is not comfortable here. Tessy is in her mid-30s, sickly pale, like the color of dumpling skins. I can tell she was once pretty, but the meth has gotten to her face. She looks hard, jagged, beaten up. And I know she is empty inside. This is why she keeps her distance from me. She is so empty that anything alive and warm seems otherworldly. I decide to break my not-cooking-forCharlie streak. I might be mad at them, but I can cook for the baby. I make a quick salad — greens with pear slices, cilantro, olive oil, lime, and salt. Catfish, marinated in tequila and lime and dredged in potato starch and fried in oil. Slices of hard goat cheese. A quick garlic, Sriracha, and lime aioli for dipping the catfish. I plate it and set it on the table outside. It’s Tessy’s first meal here, out on the patio, in the cool night air, twinkle lights above their heads like they are

He does not seem concerned that Tessy is probably five months along, has used meth all of her pregnancy, and has not been to a doctor.

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in a Sandra Bullock rom-com. After they eat and David and I struggle through the girls’ homework, Tessy brings in their empty clean plates and stands in my kitchen, asking me about the catfish, how I make it, and if the cooking is expensive. She wants to know if they can make it in their efficiency kitchen, in their weekly apartment. Then she hugs me. Deeply. Much more so than I expected. “My mother never hugged me as hard as you did,” she says. I’ve never heard a sadder thing.

{FEBRUARY} Las Vegas is breaking 80 degrees. Uncommonly hot, even in the desert. I think of those people in New York, with their feet of snow and below-zero wind chill, making stews and hearty soups, and me grilling the shit out of everything, windows and doors thrown open, sun everywhere, light. I am just reveling in the light. I make the food Australians are making now, because it’s summer there and David is Australian, and I swear it’s summer here. Seared nubs of negimaki, lightly charred lemongrass pork skewers, and chili and lime-grilled prawns with a tub of Romanesco for dipping. The seasons are all turned around. We are into the yakitori again, too. Chicken livers, oysters, neck, gizzard, heart and skin, belly of the pig, tongue of the cow, and stuff from the dirt, shishitos, scallions, shiitakes. I throw it on the heat and let it rip into smoke and flame. It all feels so good, this forever summer. But I’m not feeding Charlie anymore. Not because I am angry anymore on behalf of their unborn child. We just want the casita done. Charlie is a goner. We have no more investment. We are exhausted by him, and he is exhausted by himself. My girlfriend, Adrienne, who was once married to a heroin addict, is like “Duh,” when I tell her this. I see it now so clearly. Everything she had told me about her marriage: Investment, even in its most remote form, is stupidity. Lunch is stupidity. David says he has never seen Charlie this bad. He is confused, chaotic, shooting up before coming to work. He breaks down in even the most casual conversations. He doesn’t stay at work long enough — when he comes — to eat anything anyway, so there are no lunches, and because there are no lunches, there are no connections. I find out from Facebook there has been

an intervention. Tessy’s family gives her an ultimatum, just like on one of those shows on TV. They offer her treatment. Again. And tell her if she doesn’t take it, they will refuse her help with the baby. They tell her they have readied the nursery not because they are excited another grandchild is coming, but because they know if they can’t take her, this baby will be taken away by Child Protective Services. Their responses are cold. Hard. Unrelenting. And necessary. Family fights break out on Facebook. I secretly stalk them and watch what unfolds. It’s a clusterfuck. I eat crunchy little pork empanadas at the counter, crumbs falling on the keyboard, completely weirded out, yet fascinated, by this soap opera. We Fosters are a messy people, but this is otherworldly, messy shit. I’m enthralled and horrified. I am my redneck relatives all of a sudden. I’m not proud of this. It is simply true. Charlie refuses treatment. On Facebook. It’s not his thing, he writes, too rigid, he needs to move, be physical, use his hands. They shut him down, humiliate him. He quotes Scripture, invokes Jesus, says he must follow his own path. His meth-addict friends tell him to keep going on his own path. “Stay with the Lord,” one writes. “Jesus will get you clean.” Charlie does not think Tessy will go to treatment. “This child will make us different,” he says. But his voice is weaker and weaker. Tessy has moved out again. He can only access her on Facebook. Then Tessy does the unthinkable. She gets on the bus and goes to Texas, to a special house for Christian pregnant women. Some are drug addicts, but mostly they are girls who are lost, kicked out, abandoned, alone in the world, with their big bellies. Tessy begs Charlie to get treatment. She messages me and asks me how he’s doing. But the more sober she gets, the more tired she is of his excuses. She blocks him. Her family blocks him. She refuses his phone calls. This makes him crazy. He sinks into meth even more. He stays high all the time. “I have to buy a birthday present for my son and send it to Texas ...” he tells me. “Wait,” I interrupt. “Didn’t you buy him a present last week after you got paid?” “No.” “You told me you did.” “I lied. He never got a present from us for his birthday.” “Where were you?” “Using. But I’m a good dad.” “No matter what Tessy says,” he tells me

I forget about Charlie, and meth, and his abandoned kids, the baby who’s going to be born into all of it. I head to the kitchen to make supper.

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and wipes away the tears. But he cries because he knows. We both do. His kid didn’t get a birthday present from his parents because they were high. David and I get a new laborer to finish the casita. We let Charlie go. Lunch doesn’t save a life.

{MARCH} Charlie is high. He blows his one week clean. He is all over the place. He doesn’t work for us anymore, but he is doing work on the house next door, which is going up for sale and the landlord got a desperate deal from Charlie. Sometimes he stops over, and says Hi. He is a mess. All over the map. He is going back to Texas to be with his family, he says. He isn’t going back to Texas, because Jesus has a plan for him. He is going to find a program five hours from where his sons live. He is not going to go to a program because he has Jesus, and Jesus will save him. He is going to go to college to be a pastor. He is going to run a ministry. He is going to run a ministry on Facebook. His addiction goes from drugs to Facebook, where he posts persistently about Jesus and his mistakes and his triumphs, to inspire other people to get clean, all while he is using. He doesn’t see the contradiction. He writes long, too-intimate public missives to Tessy on Facebook, and because she has blocked him, she doesn’t see them. So he writes them to whomever will listen and agree. It’s pitiful and hard, even for a stalker like me, to watch. Then, the landlord lets him move into the house next door while he fixes it. “It’s a sign from God,” he tells me. “Everything will be all right.” Then asks if we want to get together and grill something for dinner. Like we are neighbors. We decline.

{APRIL} I’m growing a garden on the side of my house, the side next to the house where Charlie is working and living for the next month. It’s small and just a container garden of lettuces, several varieties of hot peppers and herbs, as many herbs as I can plant. “She won’t talk to me. Her family won’t talk to me ....” he complains while I am planting a shiso cutting into a pot. It is so hard to find shiso, but I am excited to grow it. I have whole wok-fried snapper with shiso and lemon in my head, and screaming-rare, grilled NY strip un-

derneath a melting chunk of shiso-shallot butter. I’m cooking them already in my imagination. “It’s unfair to take all my support away,” he says, blinking into the sun. “They want me to have a year clean before I can see her or the baby when she is born. It’s wrong.” “Charlie, she is saving herself,” I say. “Let her save herself.” I go back into the kitchen and bring out a plate of Chinese eggs, eggs poured into scalding oil and fried so quickly the outside is puffy and crunchy, and the inside is runny as all hell, and served with stripes of oyster sauce, and bits of Thai chilies and scallion. I made it for myself, but he is grateful to eat it. It is the tiniest of Band-Aids on a problem unfixable by food, or gathering together, or cooking. He eats, standing at the fence, and we talk about lighter things. The grain of the wood on the walls of the casita, the way the new window lets the sun in, how everything about that little house has changed. How everything has changed. And nothing. David comes home, the car doors snap open, and the kids pile out of the car. There is chatter, and Lucy is talking wildly and loudly. Charlie shows David his work on the house next door. He hands me back his empty plate, scraped perfectly clean as always, then goes back to painting something, to his thoughts, to his mind buried in meth, to his zero days clean. I walk away from the fence. Let that go. I want to talk to David about foster care, maybe taking that first orientation class, seeing how that goes for us. I know the idea is warming in him. He is game. My man is always up for a new adventure, and this is why I love him so madly. I forget about Charlie, and meth, and his abandoned kids, the baby who’s going to be born into all of it. I wrap myself around my husband. I catch up with him and the kids, and all the things I’ve missed. I revel in them. Everyone is hungry, so I head to the kitchen to make supper. I have chicken wings marinating in mirin, soy, and fish sauce. They are ready to coat in corn starch and deep-fry. I make lunch for the people who matter, and for whom lunch matters. Everything is so fucking normal, it’s beautiful. Kim Foster is a writer, novelist, and cook. Her work has appeared on Food52, in Bon Appétit, and in the Best Food Writing anthology series.

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YOUR ARTS+ENTERTAINMENT CALENDAR FOR JULY

LAURENS TAN

27 MARVEL UNIVERSE LIVE! AGE OF HEROES THOMAS & MACK CENTER

Upgrade your summer blockbuster experience with a live-action spectacle complete with special effects and aerial stunts. In this adventure all your favorites — Spider-Man, Captain America, and the Hulk, just to name a few — come together to stop Loki’s nefarious plan for world domination. Various times, through July 30, $20$95, unlvtickets.com

ERYKAH BADU

WINCHESTER CULTURAL CENTER

BROOKLYN BOWL

Communication and cacophony are what this artist — born in Holland of Chinese descent, now splitting his time between Las Vegas and Australia — is about in his exhibit Babalogic II. The Tower of Babel, above, adorned in “Chinese characters and opaque codes born of many different symbols,” is his potent statement on the racket in his peripatetic life. Through September 1, reception 6p, July 21. Free, 702-455-7340

8 FOOTBALL SAM BOYD STADIUM

18TH ANNUAL LAS VEGAS DANCE IN THE DESERT SUMMERLIN LIBRARY

“Dance is the hidden language of the soul of the body,” Martha Graham once said. It won’t remain hidden when local and international contemporary dance talents gather for one of the longest-running dance traditions in Vegas. 10:30a, free, lvccld.org

And by football we mean soccer, of course — “the beautiful game” in the words of Pelé and many cheesy fútbol announcers. Two teams from Mexico, Club Tijuana and Club Leon, will race around the field for 90 minutes, grateful, one presumes, for the 8p start time. $27-$163, unlv.edu/ calendar

After performing at the Pori Jazz Festival in Finland, genre-bending legend Erykah Badu’s next stop on her world tour will be right here. Already a certified holistic healer and reiki master who’s now studying sound and vibration healing, Badu is sure to heal your ailments with her jazz, R&B, and hip-hop infused magic. 8:30p, $59.50-$119, brooklynbowl.com/ las-vegas

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THE GUIDE ART

LOVE’S LAST LOOK

Art Gallery at Sahara West Library, lvccld.org

THROUGH JULY 7 Artist Jennifer Henry’s wearable sculptures are set in lush environments that capture the forlorn fantasy of fictional lost loves’ very last moments. Free. Clark County Government Center Rotunda Gallery, clarkcountynv.gov

PAINTED STORIES: ENDLESS SUMMER

BEADS & THREAD

nevadawriters.org

THROUGH JULY 13 The artwork in this exhibit was gathered by a national call for artists who use beadwork and thread predominately and creatively. Free. Las Vegas City Hall Chamber Gallery, 495 S. Main St., second floor, artslasvegas.org

COLORADO RIVER: ARTFULLY ENGINEERED

THROUGH JULY 23, 9A–5P Cody Brothers studies Art Deco design in water facilities across the western United States through stunning black and white pinhole photography. Free for members or included with paid general admission. Big Springs Gallery, Springs Preserve, springspreserve.org

ALL ABOUT CLAY

THROUGH AUG. 26 Ceramic works created using many different techniques and clays by artists from the Nevada Clay Guild. Free. Art Gallery at Sahara West Library,

JULY 16, 2P Local authors Megan Edwards and Linda Lou read from their latest work while Guest Artist Meegan Boiros paints live in front of the audience. Free. Sonoma Room at the Southpoint Casino,

BABALOGIC II

JULY 17–SEPT. 1 Artist Laurens Tan’s exhibit features the Tower of Babel, a fitting symbol of the cacophony of his wandering life and his search for his roots in a rapidly changing China. Free. Clark County Government Center Rotunda Gallery, laurenstan.com

UNNATURAL LANDSCAPES

JULY 25–AUG. 24 Artist Ginger Bruner’s title describes the exhibit: photos of landscapes altered by humans. Free. Winchester Gallery, 3130 McLeod Drive, clarkcountynv.gov MUSIC

I JUST WANNA SING

JULY 1, 7P Las Vegas entertainers CC Spencer and Mark Geovi present a theatrical showcase. $20. Starbright Theatre at Sun City Summerlin, scscai.com

lvccld.org

EXHALE

THROUGH AUG. 29 Melissa Gaudet’s artwork uses photographic methods to explore the function of memory and the interaction of life and death. Free. Art Gallery at West Charleston Library, cclvld.org

OUTSIDE THE BOX

THROUGH SEPT. 7 This exhibit highlights artists who use cardboard as the main medium for their artwork. Free. Las Vegas City Hall Grand Gallery, 495 S. Main St., first floor, artslasvegas.org

RARA AVIS

THROUGH SEPT. 17 The award-winning artists of the West Coast Drawing collective present their original drawings. Free.

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KILLIAN’S ANGELS

JULY 2, 2P A concert of music spanning the ages, celebrating Irish folklore and stories. Free. Clark County Library,

Miller (“For Once in my Life”). Theirs is a marriage made in musical-comedy heaven. $20. Starbright Theatre at Sun City Summerlin, scscai.com

BRUCE HORNSBY & THE NOISEMAKERS

JULY 7, 7:30P The American singer and keyboardist draws from classical, jazz, bluegrass, folk, Motown, gospel, rock, and blues. $39–$69.50. Brooklyn Bowl at The Linq, brooklynbowl.com

FROM BROADWAY WITH LOVE: HONORING THE SHOULDERS WE STAND ON

JULY 8, 3P This revue features songs from The Wiz, Wicked, The Lion King, and many others. $19–$105. Reynolds Hall at The Smith Center, thesmithcenter.com

RHYTHM

JULY 8, 7P; JULY 9, 2P Rich Rizzo’s Las Vegas Follies Presents an all-star show featuring impersonations, music, and dance. $20. Starbright Theatre at Sun City Summerlin, scscai.com

THE RONNIE FOSTER TRIO: EPISODE 3

JULY 9, 2P Foster leads his trio through a set of jazz, funk, Latin, and blues music. $19–$35. Cabaret Jazz at The Smith Center, thesmithcenter.com

P.O.D.

JULY 14, 7P The San Diego chart-topper will be joined by rap metal band Powerflo. Ages 18+. $25–$35. Brooklyn Bowl at The Linq, brooklynbowl.com

lvccld.org

METAL WARS — SOMEWHERE THRU TIME VS. MR. CROWLEY

JULY 2, 7P Your head will be banging when this Iron Maiden tribute squares off with this Ozzy Osbourne tribute. Ages 18+. $10. Brooklyn Bowl at The Linq, brooklynbowl.com

THE COMEDY & MUSIC OF SANDY HACKETT & LISA DAWN MILLER

JULY 5, 5P Hackett is the son of Buddy Hackett and Miller is the daughter of Ron

40 OZ. TO FREEDOM

JULY 15, 6P Enjoy a professional tribute to Sublime with the greatest hits from now and then. Ages 18+. $12–$15. Brooklyn Bowl at The Linq, brooklynbowl.com

THE GREATEST ICONS OF BROADWAY

JULY 15, 7P Vegas headliners Janien Valentine (The Scintas) and George DeMott (Poperazzi) highlight Broadway hits from multiple shows. $20. Starbright Theatre at Sun City Summerlin, scscai.com

Channel 10

MICHELLE JOHNSON — STRICTLY TABOO

JULY 15, 8P Johnson presents an evening of classic hits performed with a 17-piece orchestra, dancers, and more. $22–$40. Cabaret Jazz at The Smith Center, thesmithcenter.com

ONE OK ROCK

JULY 17, 7:30P One of Japan’s most popular and beloved rock outfits shares the stage with Florida band Set It Off, led by vocalist and YouTube sensation Cody Carson. Ages 18+. $27.50–$150. Brooklyn Bowl at The Linq, brooklyn bowl.com

ERYKAH BADU

JULY 20, 8:30P Share an evening with the iconic singer-songwriter, record producer, disc jockey, activist, and actress. Ages 18+. $59.50–$119.00. Brooklyn Bowl at The Linq, brooklynbowl.com

A Capitol Fourth 2017 Tuesday, July 4 at 8 p.m. and 9:30 p.m.

ANN HAMPTON CALLAWAY — THE ELLA CENTURY

JULY 22, 7P Hampton presents a show celebrating Ella Fitzgerald’s centennial year. $39–$59. Cabaret Jazz at The Smith Center, thesmithcenter.com

THE TWO SIDES OF DONNY RAY EVINS — MR. COLE AND MR. SOUL

JULY 22, 7P A dual show featuring a tribute to Nat King Cole and great soul singers James Brown, Wilson Pickett, and many others. $20. Starbright Theatre at Sun City Summerlin, scscai.com

Nature’s Great Race Wednesdays at 9 p.m. beginning July 12

Remember Me Sundays at 10 p.m. beginning July 16

ECHO & THE BUNNYMEN

JULY 28, 8P Revisit the cult following of the band’s dark, swirling fusion of gloomy post-punk and Doors-inspired psychedelia. Ages 18+. $37.50–$65.00. Brooklyn Bowl at The Linq, brooklynbowl.com THEATER AND COMEDY

BEEHIVE: THE ‘60S MUSICAL

JULY 14–30, THU–SAT 8P, SUN 2P Larry Gallagher’s musical chronicles the 1960s through the perspective of six young women. $25. Las Vegas Little Theatre, lvlt.org

Rare - Creatures of the Photo Ark Tuesdays at 9 p.m. beginning July 18

Wild Alaska Live Sunday, July 23, Wednesday, July 26 and Sunday, July 30 at 8 p.m.

VegasPBS.org | 3050 E Flamingo Road, Las Vegas, NV 89121 | 702.799.1010 J U LY 2 0 1 7

DESERTCOMPANION.VEGAS

THE GUIDE LAS VEGAS IMPROVISATIONAL PLAYERS

JULY 22, 7P LVIP offers clean, fresh comedy and music made up on the fly. You get to decide what they will do next! $10 adults; $5 children and military. Show Creators Studio, 4465 W. Sunset Road, lvimprov.com

AUBREY WILLIAMS

JULY 23, 2P Williams stars in the stage biography of Doris Day, featuring rare photos and film clips. $25. Cabaret Jazz at The Smith Center, thesmithcenter. com

NORMAN FOOTE

JULY 27, 11A & 2P Foote has received international acclaim for his songwriting, outrageous props, and offbeat sense of humor. $6. Winchester Cultural Center, 3130 McLeod Drive, clarkcountynv.gov DANCE

SCORPIUS DANCE THEATRE

JULY 15, 7P This choreographer’s showcase of modern and contemporary works includes pieces by Director Lisa Starry and combines mainstream dance and popular music for a highly energetic show. $24 adults; $12 children. Charleston Heights Arts Center, 800 S. Brush St., scorpiusdance.com

18TH ANNUAL LAS VEGAS DANCE IN THE DESERT

JULY 28, 7P A showcase featuring multiple choreographers and dance companies. Free. Summerlin Library, lvccld.org

VELADA CULTURAL PERUANA JULY 28, 7P The Peruvian Cultural Association honors visiting artist Percy Gomez with traditional dances full of color from the Jauja province. $11. Winchester Cultural Center, 3130 McLeod Drive, clarkcountynv.gov

lady Osmond. $25. Cabaret Jazz at The Smith Center, thesmith center.com

BENNY BINION & MOE DALITZ

JULY 5, 6P Learn how Binion and Dalitz championed the casino industry in Las Vegas, from their fellow casino manager Bill Friedman. Free. Jewel Box Theater at Clark County Library, lvccld.org

THE POETS’ CORNER HOSTED BY KEITH BRANTLEY

JULY 21, 7:30P Hear established poets and open-mic participants in this monthly forum. Ages 17+. Free. West Las Vegas Arts Center, 947 W. Lake Mead Blvd., artslasvegas.org

FROM THE TRENCHES — COVERING CRIME & THE MOB

JULY 29, 11A True crime author Cathy Scott discusses the murders of mob daughter Susan Berman, casino legacy Ted Binion, and rappers Tupac Shakur and Biggie Smalls. Free. Jewel Box Theater at Clark County Library, lvccld.org FAMILY AND FESTIVALS

ZOOM INTO NANO — SMALL SCIENCE WITH A HUGE IMPACT

THROUGH SEPT. 4 A hands-on interactive exhibit focusing on how engineers and scientists create new materials and technologies at the atomic level. Ages 8–13. $14.50. Discovery Children’s Museum, discoverykidslv.org

RAZZLE BAM BOOM — ALL THAT TRASH

JULY 5–6, 10:30A Through humor and music, families will discover why to reduce, reuse, and recycle. $5.50. July 5, Charleston Heights Arts Center, 800 S. Brush St.; July 6, Historic Fifth Street School, 401 S. Fourth St., razzle bamboom.com

DISCUSSIONS AND READINGS

CONVERSATIONS WITH NORM WITH SPECIAL GUEST MARIE OSMOND

JULY 1, 2P Former Review-Journal columnist Norm Clarke interviews the iconic

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FIRST FRIDAY

JULY 7, 5–11P Open studios, food trucks, live performances, and booths abound at this community event celebrating the Arts District. Free. Activities are all over Downtown Las Vegas with

the Art Walk beginning at 1025 First St., ffflv.org

SUGAR FREE ALLSTARS

A SHELTER PET is Waiting to Meet You.

JULY 12–13, 10:30A A dance party blend of soul, disco, gospel and New Orleans parade music for all ages. $5.50. July 12, Charleston Heights Arts Center, 800 S. Brush St.; July 13, Historic Fifth Street School, 401 S. Fourth St., sugarfreeallstars.com

KAYLIE FOSTER & STOKED!

JULY 12, 4–7P Bring your chairs, grab food from one of the specialty restaurants, and enjoy an evening of live music and family fun. Free. Downtown Summerlin, 1980 Festival Plaza Drive.

SECRET AGENT 23 SKIDOO

JULY 19–20, 10:30A Skidoo’s shows are alive with calland-response anthems and gravity-defying moves from break dancers. $5.50. July 19, Charleston Heights Arts Center, 800 S. Brush St.; July 20, Historic Fifth Street School, 401 S. Fourth St., artslasvegas.org

BEAU & AERO

JULY 26–27 Two bumbling aviators live in a world of bountiful balloons and silent comedy. $5.50. July 26, Charleston Heights Arts Center, 800 S. Brush St.; July 27, Historic Fifth Street School, 401 S. Fourth St., artslasvegas.org

CIVIL WAR EXPERIENCE

JULY 29, 10A–2P Try on civil war uniforms, learn to march and drill in formation, and participate in a skirmish with other visitors in this hands-on event. $9 park entry. Spring Mountain Ranch State Park, 6375 Nevada 159, parks.nv.gov

Now you can adopt a furry friend at a greatly reduced rate. Adult dogs are just $50. Adult cats are just $25.

FUNDRAISERS

FLIPPING FLAPJACKS FOR SENIORS

JULY 15, 8–10A Enjoy sausage, pancakes, scrambled eggs, juice, and coffee — plus drawings for prizes! Half the fee goes directly to Helping Hands of Vegas Valley to support their continued service to seniors. $10. Applebees, 1634 W. Craig Road, hhovv.org

EVERYDAY ADOPTION CENTER — LAKE MEAD CROSSING — 286 W. Lake Mead Pkwy. Henderson, NV 89015 (702) 558-9326 J U LY 2 0 1 7

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