Vegas Trip: Celebrating 50 in Sin City, page four

The Monte Carlo poker room.

Posted: October 26, 2009

DAY THREE

I sleep late, my friends somehow manage to get in their 18 holes, and it's after 1:00 p.m. when we convene at Society Cafe, Encore at Wynn's gussied up coffee-shop, which, really, is a lot more than that. Save for the wildly broad menu, which runs the gamut from rack of lamb to lollipop chicken wings to eggs Benedict, the quality of the food is elevated beyond what you expect. We immediately fill the table with lobster club sandwiches, awesome meatballs, smoked salmon splayed across flat bread, hummus, and enough other stuff that we don't even look at the dessert menu.

We finish just in time to make the Monte Carlo's Saturday afternoon poker tournament. Before sitting down we agree to 20-percent splits on all winnings (meager though they may be, this is not exactly a high-rollers event). The three of us are spread around the poker room, sitting at different tables but close enough to gauge one another's chip counts. Glen goes down quickly. Steve, just as rapidly, builds up a sizable stack in spite of his insistence that he's never entered a poker tournament before. As for me, well, I like to think I know how to play these things but it doesn't do a whole lot of good today. After a gallant effort to hang in there, I bust out soon after Glen does.

While Steve tries to make the most of his stacks, Glen and I hit the Monte Carlo gift shop to do some souvenir shopping for the kids back home. He picks out a very practical beach mat that can be carried like a small bag but folds out beautifully. I follow his lead, buy four for the family, and we leave Steve to his devices.

On the way past the poker room, I duck inside, sweat him for a minute, and say, "Don't forget about our split."

"What split?" he playfully shoots back, spying a couple of high diamonds.

Upon returning to the Wynn, Glen heads upstairs for a much needed nap. I change into my swimsuit and proceed to the Encore pool for some much needed sun. I chill out with a beer, a Fuente Fuente OpusX, and the latest Elmore Leonard novel. Fabulous combination. The pool-area is a big, curvy expanse of sun and skin, water, meshing with the alfresco tables at Botero and the nightclub XS. But it's actually a little too raucous for the moment. So, halfway through my Opus, I meander over to the semi-private pool that backs up to the rear entrance of Wynn Tower Suites. It's mellower and a great spot for watching the afternoon meld into dusk.

At 8:00, the guys and I meet for gin and tonics at the Tableau bar, an intimate spot, sequestered alongside the Tower Suites elevator bank. We're a little dressed up for our last night in town and I'm anticipating a cut of Steve's winnings (it'll be at least enough for a couple rounds of drinks). Sadly, he tells us, it's not to be. He lasted for a little while after Glen and I shoved and lost, but he hit the bricks before prize-money kicked in.

Talk quickly turns from bad beat stories to what's on for dinner. Paul Bartolotta is my favorite chef in Las Vegas, and we're dining at his Ristorante di Mare in the Wynn. Over the years, Bartolotta's also become a friend, and he's going to be on hand tonight to make sure we're well taken care of. Things begin promisingly when he meets us at the bar upstairs in his restaurant and announces that my pals and I are in for a treat.

Bartolotta does not make proclamations like that one lightly. We will be enjoying a food and wine feast. After pre-dinner cocktails (a Coke for me; I know enough to pace myself in these situations), we proceed down to our table. It resides alongside a glistening man-made lagoon that subtly shifts us far from Las Vegas to some idealized version of the Mediterranean. We start with flutes of prosecco, which set the pace for the meal's perfectly matched wine pairings.

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