Little by little, the old Vegas-style joints like The Venetian, where it was a must to order pork neck bones and stuffed clams, are closing, yielding to chains like P.F. Chang's and Claim Jumper, places with all the soul of Kenny G played in a 99-cent store.
There are holdouts, though, and even a few new kids on the block clinging to this fading genre. One of them is Marcus Ritz, a chef and former Golden Gloves boxer from Florida, by way of upstate New York.
Ritz runs Marc's, a roadhouse where it is possible to dine on retro Italian dishes like clams oreganata and zabaglione, fare slowly but inevitably vanishing from sight in our city. He also serves prime steaks and a variety of excellent fish and veal dishes, all in a brick-lined dining room that would look equally at home in Utica or Syracuse, cities where he made his bones as a chef.
Ritz, with his thick, black glasses and Dead End Kid accent, comes across as a little retro himself. He first opened this restaurant as Marc's World Cuisine, but his clientele didn't really get the Thai, Japanese and eccentrically fusion riffs on New York-style Italian cooking.
He hung in there, though, and today, as Marc's, or Marc's Authentic Italian Steakhouse, his restaurant seems to be flourishing. He's developed a loyal and enthusiastic neighborhood following, and his food is better than ever, probably because he is playing to his own strengths in the kitchen.
Lots of the regulars can be spotted in the Christmassy wine lounge, eating hot antipasto (here known as the "hot Auntie"), fall-apart-tender lobster crab cakes, and the chef's crisp, fried calamari. In the adjacent dining room, there are black tablecloths to match the black shirts of the servers. As you might imagine, there are also black-and-white photos of Frank, Dean and Sammy on the walls, as well as a skyline shot of the Big Apple.
Be warned, the hot antipasto is a feast for one, and nearly a complete meal for two. Ritz adapted the dish from one of his boyhood haunts, Grimaldi's in Utica. The main component of the platter is assorted shellfish, like clams, shrimp and mussels adrift in spicy marinara sauce, but there are artichoke hearts, and two enormous, saucer-sized discs of eggplant parmigiana to round things out.
Needless to say, this, a glass of red wine and a basket of the crusty Italian house bread is all anyone would require for sustenance on a cold Vegas winter night. But there is a lot more worth trying on Marc's menu, which is extensive, almost to the point of encyclopedic.
One of my favorites is an appetizer called Mom's pan-fried meatballs, three huge meatballs drenched with the chef's Sunday gravy, a thick tomato sauce cooked slowly with pork and carrots. This is an appetizer? You've got to be kidding.
One of the holdovers from Marc's World Cuisine is a dish no self-respecting goombah would be caught dead eating, steak and shrimp skewers served with an interesting, Thai-inspired peanut and mango sauce. Even less likely to appear at a goombah's table is the grilled and marinated tofu, done in a wine rosemary sauce with a black bean salsa.
Not to worry. There is plenty for your friend Tony Soprano to eat: a classic Caesar with a nice anchovy tang, one of the city's best pasta e fagioli soups, and lest we forget, all those fish, veal and steak preparations.
Naturally, there are pastas, too: a workmanlike, southern Italian baked lasagna; penne alla Dean Martin, tossed with a pink vodka sauce, white meat chicken and organic spinach; and a faultless linguine clams.
Grouper, a Caribbean fish Ritz got hooked on in Florida, is pan-seared in a basic, San Marzano tomato and sherry wine sauce, with Manila clams. Swordfish is meltingly tender and impossibly rich, thanks to a black peppercorn and brandy sauce generally reserved for steak.
The best steak may be the bone-in rib eye Florentine, a huge, char-grilled steak for two that is sprinkled with Fleur de Sel Camargue, a gray mineral salt from France. Ritz is partial to steak el Chico, a dish he learned from his father. Think beef tenderloin, cooked with garlic, hot and sweet peppers, olive oil and Italian seasonings. (I cheated when I heard the chef had milk-fed veal on the bone one evening, and asked for a veal chop el Chico. He complied, and it was wonderful.)
Desserts have a retro component, too, from bananas Foster, served warm with vanilla ice cream, to the Sicilian dessert zabaglione, egg yolks whipped into a froth, with a heap of sugar and a dash of Marsala wine, slathered onto cut, fresh berries.
Incidentally, Marc's is trying a new tack, beginning this week. The restaurant will now be open for lunch, with an abbreviated menu of these indulgent dishes, foods that refuse to go away, at least for now.