Lars Vegahs

Two weeks ago, Evan and I boarded what can best be described as a sardine-can with jet engines and made the lengthy 40-minute flight to the state of Nevada. For quite a while, we had been yearning to check out the unique wildlife the desert-state has to offer, so complete with magnifying glasses, machetes, cameras and notebooks we headed for the great American outback. Or, you know, just went to Vegas and went a little cray-cray.

 Every style of architecture EVER, crammed together in one place. It's quite magnificent. And, well, cray-cray.

Our hotel, however, was as classy and non-Vegasy as can be, which, for the record, can be recommended if you don't want to be in perpetual spring break-land at all times of the day. 

I mean, check out how cooooool our room looks. Also, they gave us free booze, which didn't make me love them any less. The Mandarin Oriental, people! Go! Get pampered!

The view from the tea-lounge, where we enjoyed several of the liquid delights depicted in the following picture.

Tea-tinis! And cupcake! Awesome! We were indeed living juuuuust enough, just enoouuuuuugh for the citaaay-yeaaaaah. 

(If you didn't catch the Stevie-reference, shame on you. No wait, no shame, we don't like shame...let me rephrase: "If you didn't catch the Stevie-reference, shame on YOU." Argh, damnit! There's an inner visceral shamer in me that won't be silenced! What to do!?!)

 One thing though, if you do end up staying at the Mandarin at some point, you will be offered these little green suckers if you, say, order a Tea-tini. 

Do not eat them,

I repeat, do NOT eat them.

They are pure wasabi, pure discomfort, pure evil.

Refrain.

 So when in Vegas -- you....how do I put this succinctly? You...

PARTY!

People can drink in the streets in Vegas?! And they DO! At ALL times! Everywhere and anywhere, you'll see people with the biggest piña colada you've ever seen in their hands, young and old. It's wild! And seeing as Evan and I don't gamble...we followed suit! Here we are, for instance, tipsy at The Bellagio!

Tipsy, lovey-dovey...

(for the record, I was wearing ridiculously high heels...Evan is not actually being carried by me...well, at this point, anyway)

 Bourbon-cocktail and attitude. Mette-Marie Kongsved likes this.

Dazed and confused. And handsome as hell.

If you lay down on the floor and look at the ceiling, when you first enter The Bellagio, this is what you'll see. Drunk or not!

Bellagio Beasts, #1

Bellagio Beasts, #2 

 Bellagio Beasts, #3

Bellagio Beasts, #4

(Man, that was a fun night)

A dirty martini and an espresso martini at Red Square, earlier that night. The food was good too. No, actually, food was excellent! Why didn't I take any food pictures? I'm sincerely perplexed. But to fill you in, some key items of that night were: Lobster bisque, Asian dumplings, and chocolate caviar with raspberry foam. Sounds confusing? It wasn't. It was de-lish.

 

a-HA! Success! I did remember to take food pictures of our dinner, the following day. Probably because it was one of the wildest gastronomical experiences of my life. Ladies and gentlemen, I present thee: The Oyster Bar. 

Allow me to explain. 

The Oyster Bar is a teeny tiny restaurant with only a bar-counter to seat people. It's located in a crummy, low-brow casino called Palace Station and so you'll hear loud beeping and honking and cheezy music playing at all times, while scores of the wackiest looking people will either walk by or sit and stare at you from their slot-machine. You can't reserve a table, because they don't have tables, so you have to stand there and wait in line until people finish up, and you are graciously called to your seat. And people do. Stand there. And wait. Patiently. For long periods of time. That alone tells you something. This place is insane. But not because of all the things I just listed -- it's because of the grub.

The best jambalaya in the world.

The best gumbo in the world. 

The best freaking oysters, ever. 

Forgive me my repetitiveness, but this place is insane.

Everybody at the counter had their own Oyster Bar-history along the lines of: "It's the first place we go to whenever we're in Vegas." or "We've been coming here the last 15 years - ain't no place like it!"

Well, Oyster Bar - count Evan and I in as regulars. We were not disappointed.

 Oyster still life.

 Jambalaya/gumbo cauldrons at work. 

(Ok, maybe they're more like pots, but the word 'cauldron' is much cooler, wouldn't you say?)

 Gumbooooooo!

Heaven in a bowl.

Yeah, once the food arrived, we really didn't talk much after that. We just ate and marvelled.

Also, we made friends with the chef, who bought us dessert! And despite the fact that we were literally about to burst (yes, 'literally' - that's how much we ate), how could we not at least try the delicious and very sinful chocolate/caramel ice cream bomb that was put in front of us?!

We ate the whole thang.

Ok, so I guess you have to gamble just a little bit, when you're in Vegas. Which we did. I think we spent about $20 between us - and Evan won freakin' $81, so how's that for making profit in Vegas!? 400 %!

Evan gambling and me worrying about his fast-paced downward spiral into the depths of a gruelling gambling addiction.

Yeah, Vegas did right by us.