Walking through a popular casino like the Palms on a balmy Saturday afternoon, it occurred to me that a guy from, say, Salina, Kansas, might see more beautiful women in one afternoon here than he'd see in 10 years back home. Ditto for the women of Salina, who can go out to the pool and see NBA stars and assorted hardbodies.
Toto wears Ray-Bans when he comes to Vegas and Dorothy is wearing a push-up bra, and you can catch them both at one of the local pool lounges.
So when a friend of mine blew in from Maine, of all places, he cared less about lunch than the setting in which it would take place. Luckily for me, there was a solution that satisfied both of us, Skin, the Palms pool lounge, where paradoxically, good food meets the young and restless, without showing up even once in the guise of stretch marks.
When Skin works, it is because of the participation of the talented Barry Dakake, N9NE Steakhouse's head chef, who has incorporated a few tricks onto the menu. It fails when it becomes a chore to get a table, which apparently is often the case.
On hot afternoons, food is served only at the bar, which faces away from the pool and the action, or out on hot chairs at the pool, in full sun. I like to sit near the bar, at shaded tables with unfurled umbrellas. I never can figure out when those tables will, or will not, be available, though, so I wish somebody here would tell me.
The pool area and Skin have an avant-garde design, all magenta and mint green, vaguely Miami, and looking like a series of covers from CDs you wouldn't want to buy. The servers (well, waitresses) have killer tans and are clad in what I'm told are "boy shorts"—faux denim, bikini-like bottoms—and bikini tops. All of them could be on a runway in Paris, as could the bartenders, for that matter, who are probably refugees from Thunder Down Under.
This also is kind of a celeb hangout. LeBron James and Paul Pierce have been spotted here, as have showbiz types like Mimi Rogers and Dave Foley. One thing I'm sure of is that they ate well. I haven't had a single bad dish at Skin, which serves an evolved pool-bar menu. At any rate, it's better than most people would rightfully expect.
The starters are terrific, especially a cooling ceviche, the Peruvian-inspired, marinated, raw fish cocktail, which here has snapper, shrimp, avocado and cucumber, all mingling in just the right amount of lemon juice and fresh herbs. Grilled shrimp taco runs a close second, a semi-crisp shell brimming with shrimp doused in a spicy aioli mayonnaise, plus all the trimmings.
A nice homemade guacamole comes with a basket of hot tortilla chips, and a piquant salsa that also tastes homemade. The only starter that didn't impress me were the sliders, a trio of small, bland burgers served in a plastic basket with seasoned fries. The sliders come with a grilled onion and cheddar cheese topping, but even so, they didn't have much beefy taste.
This being a pool, salads are a common and sensible choice. Don't expect a Caesar like the one served at N9NE. This one is acceptable, but the croutons are small and the overly creamy dressing lacks punch. But the garbage salad, another N9NE specialty, acquits itself in style. Picture a bowlful of romaine, cucumber, hearts of palm, shrimp, Roquefort cheese, salami, pepperoncini and olives. Whew!
Dakake must have made this Chinese chicken salad too, since it is, hands-down, the best one I have tasted here. It's chock-full of roast chicken meat, crispy lo mein noodles, cashews, cabbage, greens and sprouts; and the ginger-soy-sesame oil dressing is perfect, not cloyingly sweet as at most other local venues.
Heartier appetites, though, will want one of these sumptuous sandwiches, the star being the Maine lobster club, like a BLT but with avocado and chunks of fresh Maine lobster. I'm all about the blackened tuna wrap, slices of the blackened fish with more avocado (someone here loves avocado) and tomatoes, in a whole-wheat tortilla with wasabi and soy sauce.
For more traditional eaters, there are items like grilled cheese, smoked turkey, and the least likely dish you'll see one of these hardbodies eating, a Chicago hot dog with all the trimmings, Vienna Beef, charcoal-grilled.
There isn't much in the way of dessert, other than Ben and Jerry's ice cream or frozen grapes and watermelon, each of which is a bad idea. But the homemade lemonade, served in frosty plastic tumblers emblazoned with the Skin logo, is sensational, intermittently tart and sweet, and devilishly refreshing.
And so what if the desserts aren't all that? If that guy from Kansas is going to have a chance with one of these babes, ice cream can only make him look bad.