The New Yorker

The New Yorker at PT's Brewing Co.
In the history of meat-stacked, deli-style sandwiches, have you ever found one done the right way in a bar? How about in a brewery? It seems like it can't possibly work out, but PT's Brewing Co.—the new beer-making arm of the ubiquitous Las Vegas tavern company—delivers a monster of quality here, especially impressive because the pastrami and corned beef are made in house. Thick, salty slabs of those two sandwich faves, plus tender, medium-rare roast beef, all somehow stay upright between two holding-on-for-dear-life pieces of marbled rye. Provolone and Swiss cheeses are added to the mix to add a different kind of richness, while coleslaw brings a nice fresh crunch and Thousand Island rides in with a little tang. This is a true meat mountain, and there aren't a lot of delis around the Vegas valley that you can find legit sandwich monuments like this one. Here, you can wash it down with a cold brew made in the room on the other side of the wall, and that's pretty cool.



BLTG at the Goodwich
Now that the Goodwich has moved on up from a Las Vegas Boulevard streetside kiosk to a real restaurant space with a real kitchen and plenty of place to sit and eat every sandwich these guys make, it doesn't really make sense that any other Las Vegas sandwich shop could be the best. Nobody does it like this. These meals are creative, make use of the best ingredients and never go too far in search of the best combinations. The BLTG is the Goodwich take on a classic bacon-lettuce-tomato. How is it different? The bacon is made in-house, and it's meaty and not too salty or smoky. The lettuce is actually leafy, dark greens, fresh from the garden. The tomato is juicy and ripe and actually tastes like a tomato. And the cheddar bacon grits are creamy and rich and ... oh wait, did we forget to mention there are cheddar bacon grits on this freaking sandwich? Yeah, that's the G. Combine it all with slightly tangy house-made aioli on thick slabs of olive oil-toasted bread and you've got a lunch to remember. And now, it's much easier to get that lunch. Downtown Vegas, you are one lucky son of a gun.



O.M.G. at LVB Burgers & Bar
So we popped into LVB (the burger bar that has replaced BLT Burger at the Mirage hotel-casino on the Vegas Strip) in its very early days to check out the goods. Why make the trip to the Strip just to eat a pricey burg? Because chef Michael LaPlaca (from Mirage's stellar Portofino Italian restaurant) designed this menu, and he's one of our favorites. So of course we had to get the weirdest burger on that menu: the O.M.G. (which apparently stands for Oh My Gosh) is founded on a ground duck patty stuffed with Muenster cheese and topped with heirloom tomato, watercress, smoked ketchup and roasted duck mayo. Note the quality sesame seed bun, too. So can you actually taste all this funky duck flavors? Pretty much. It's really rich and will fill you up faster than the average burger, and there's a lot of cheese. These aren't bad things. The tomato and ketchup bring some fresh flavors into the mix, but they don't really lighten it up. Is this an indicator that we'll be back to LVB? Yes.

Secret Sunday Chicken

Secret Sunday Chicken at Carson Kitchen
Here's a not-so-secret secret: The people behind Carson Kitchen, arguably the best and most cool restaurant in downtown Las Vegas, are opening a new restaurant out in Henderson this summer. We are excited about that. Similarly, this fabulous fried chicken sandwich at Carson Kitchen is not really a secret, despite its name, and it certainly isn't surprising that it's delicious. Puffy brioche with butter lettuce, spicy pickle aoli and a crunchy—not crispy, crunchy—chicken breast makes for quite the bite. Everybody's doing fried chicken sandwiches and it seems the best ones are the simple ones.


Tuna Melt Sickness

The Tuna Melt of Sickness
I've made many questionable sandwiches in my time, and many of those unfortunate experiments have occurred during some sort of illness. Why? Because when I'm sick, I'm a huge baby, and while I may have good fresh food to eat in the house, I'm lazy and whiny and much more likely to throw a few ingredients between bread. Hence, this tuna melt, a sad byproduct of my annual week-long summer cold. Two tiles of generic multigrain bread were tossed into a pan with a little olive oil, flipped, layered with thick slices of Muenster cheese and a few forkfuls of Starkist Tuna Creations Sweet & Spicy flavor—I don't recall purchasing that fish envelope, for the record—and then plastered together and griddled 'til toasty. It actually doesn't sound that bad, but it was. Cheese didn't get melted enough. Tuna flavoring was a poor choice for sandwiching. Dryness was inescapable. But hey, on the plus side, I still can't really taste anything. I will survive.