The explosion of chain and franchise dining establishments off-Strip gives locals more in terms of neighborhood options, but the cost has been dear, namely, in a reduction of smaller, more intimate restaurants with unique charms.
Take my neighborhood, Green Valley. The place is fairly bursting with new franchises, like Claim Jumper, P.F. Chang's and Lucille's Bar-B-Cue, all bright, appealing, successful, crowded operations, each one so busy that they hand out buzzers to let customers know when their tables are ready.
Yet, friends continue to grouse that the best restaurants in town are still on the Strip, because most of them are simply not brave nor energetic enough to venture there on a busy night (and that is most now), or convention weekend.
So I ask why, given these sentiments, are they not more supportive of our independent restaurants? Two of our best recently met sad fates. Wild Sage Café opened a second location, and subsequently, both closed. An excellent little place called Vigne Café only lasted a year or so.
The truth is, people will stand in line to eat at a Claim Jumper as small restaurants fade before the onslaught of big-business, big-portion concept eateries with all the soul of a Kenny G. disc. But take them to the local mini-mall for a creative dinner and the numbers say they don't come back.
Let's hope Todd Clore has better luck. His restaurant, in a redone space formerly home to Tuscany Grill, is Todd's Unique Cuisine. Clore, once chef at Claes in the Hotel Laguna in Orange County, California, was a top chef at Bally's before he ventured out on his own.
He's a likable fellow, with beach-boy good looks and an easygoing manner with his guests. Todd runs the restaurant with his charming wife, Terry. The room is run in the classic French mold: monsieur in the kitchen, madame in the front. I liked his food in California and I like it here.
The atmosphere is pleasant, while not opulent. They've done a nice remodel, ripping out a center wall, painting the interior a soft mustard, adding archways, trellised plants and a bar, and making the room seem both bigger and more contemporary.
I prefer to sit in the bar area, on designer wooden chairs, at a small table with a red cloth draped across the top. The main dining room, visible through the archways, is better suited to a more formal dinner. When I'm dining al hood, I like to go as casual as possible.
Once seated, you'll be served warm, chewy rolls and sheets of crispy flat bread, presented in a quirky little basket that looks like a coat hanger twisted into what resembles a fish skeleton. The menu may be unique for most people, but I remember some of the dishes from the Hotel Laguna's patio, and they are just as delicious as ever.
One of the chef's innovations are goat-cheese wontons, fried golden-brown with a berry basil butter. Another are Chinese-style tacos, made with ahi tuna, black beans and chipotle pepper; more New World fusion than Asian to me but I'm not in a mood to quibble.
Clore's thick, scrumptious shrimp bisque is based on roux and roasted shrimp in their shells, a filling loaded with flavor and calories. Purists will cotton to the frisée (chicory) salad, topped with shredded duck confit and drizzled with sherry vinaigrette. When they are in season, the chef makes a wonderful version of the French classic moules mariniere, steamed mussels in broth. He uses plump Prince Edward Island mussels, bathed in saffron-infused cream.
"Main attractions," Clore's term for entrées, have his stamp of creativity too, and there is nary a loser in the bunch. He was known for seafood in Laguna, but his meats also are handled with flair. Rack of lamb has Middle-Eastern tones because the meat is marinated in herbs and brushed with pomegranate molasses.
Seared top sirloin comes with a rich green-peppercorn sauce; breast of duck with wilted greens and a deeply reduced, fruity brown sauce.
As for the fish, my favorites are either a maple-roasted king salmon paired with pungent green-onion vinaigrette, or a not-too-sweet halibut teriyaki, accompanied by sticky rice and pea shoots. Side dishes, incidentally, such as polenta, mashed potatoes and crispy leeks, are uniformly fine. You won't leave hungry.
A small but self-assured dessert menu includes three sweets Clore has, at the present, made for him, and one he makes in-house. The fresh fruit tart is a steady choice: short crust rolled in coconut, filled with Bavarian cream and topped with mixed fruit. His one homemade dessert, killer chocolate cake, is a hot-from-the-oven, mini-Bundt-shaped loaf, served with a puddle of whipped heavy cream.
Biting into it, I couldn't help notice it had been made with flour. After eating through an interminable parade of gooey, oozing, flourless chocolate cakes in the past decade, this dessert did indeed strike me as unique. Of course, if flourless chocolate cake is your thing, you can get one at any of the big chains.