Coney Island Hot Dog

Coney Island Hot Dog at American Coney Island
What do you do once you've decided to buy a downtown Vegas casino and re-brand it with a Detroit theme? Bring in a Detroit hot dog joint, of course. IT'S CALLED LOCAL FLAVOR GET IT. Whatever.

This is the standard dog from American Coney Island in The D. It's a Dearborn Sausage brand dog (from Michigan) in a natural casing, complete with that strange-but-pleasant snap with each bite, and as you can see, it's a bit overcooked, into a wrinkly little puppy. It's supposed to be served in a warm steamed bun with chili sauce, mustard and chopped sweet onions. Unfortunately, the bun was cold, and really, this is maybe the most important thing with hot dogs. Spectacular bread can always cover for subpar sandwich fillings, and a moist, warm bun would have made this a winner. But it was cold. And dry. The chili sauce was fine, well-spiced and guilt-inducing, but the onions were not sweet. Try bitter. Fremont Street is in need of great walk-by-and-bite options, but American Coney, sadly, fails to fill that seemingly simple niche.

The Prosciutto

The Prosciutto at Baguette Cafe
Located in a southwest valley office park, Baguette Cafe is one of the great secret sandwich spots of Las Vegas. Walk in and luxuriate in the smell of baking croissants and baguettes, instantly driving your hunger into overdrive. There are no bad choices when it comes to fresh-baked bread, but this is a particularly creative sandwich. Meaty, oily salami proves the perfect counterpoint to the delicate, buttery prosciutto, and both are layered liberally. It's veg'd up with some green leaf lettuce and tomato, then the chef masterfully uses softened blue cheese in place of mayo or other spread and adds walnut crumbles for an intriguing crunch. Of course, the perfect baguette could make any ingredients sing, and this is one perfect baguette.

Grilled Barely Buzzed Cheddar Cheese

Grilled Barely Buzzed Cheddar Cheese at Honey Salt
Holy Cheezus. Before Honey Salt opened, chef Kim Canteenwalla offered us a taste of Barely Buzzed cheddar, a rich, sharp, slightly sweet treasure with a bit of coffee rub around the outside, made by Beehive Cheese Company in Utah. That chunk of cheese was pretty great, but it's even better in this grilled sourdough sandwich, all truffled up and transformed into decadent fonduey goodness. This sandwich comes with a cup of Tuscan bean soup, but guess what: nobody cares. Thick, buttery slabs of crunchy toast, just the right amount of greasiness, plus oozing, gooey goodness equals a peerless grilled cheese. Big winner.