Of the 18 food venues at Wynn Las Vegas, the Country Club is the most indelibly American, a paragon of the new American cuisine without a whit of pretense.
The restaurant faces the Wynn golf course, and indeed affords spectacular views of it while obscuring the reality of the Strip on the casino's leeward side. Its two rooms, one a cushy bar, the other a more staid, traditional dining room, both have panoramic windows, and a third place to dine, on an outdoor patio, offers a more timeless experience.
In many ways, this is also the most masculine of the Wynn restaurants. Where many of the rooms are downright frilly, this place is clubby chic: white leather chairs and stolid leather banquettes, wood and marble tables, a tartan carpet honoring the game of golf (since it was invented in Scotland), and enormous mahogany pillars dividing the spaces.
Chef David Walzog's menu doesn't contain major surprises but is simple and attractive, and therefore appealing. I haven't had breakfast here, when there are appropriate choices such as Scottish smoked salmon, brioche French toast and omelets made with mushrooms or ham, but when the weather is good, watching 'em hit on the links must be pleasant.
At lunch, Walzog begins to strut his stuff. Delicious chilled tomato soup comes with a mini grilled cheese—a nice touch—and sweet corn chowder with rock shrimp, one of the chef's signature items, makes a luxurious first course if you are hungry.
The seafood salad is a symphony of lobster, shrimp, crab, scallops and squid, fragrant with sweet basil and garnished with a slice of grilled focaccia.
The chef's chicken salad, a pair of small sandwiches made with 10-grain bread, is an unusual take on a tired genre. Made with avocado, sprouts and sunflower mayo, and accompanied by homemade Yukon gold potato chips, it is the one lunch item I could eat here again and again.
There is, of course, plenty more. Walzog makes a mean crab cake, for instance, and the BLT is served open-faced with thick, aggressively smoky slices of maple bacon—not for the faint of heart. Burgers are Black Angus sirloin and just fine, thank you, and grilled Maine lobster, served with a corn-potato hash, arugula and tomato butter, is terrific, and a bargain at only $27.
At dinner, you'll get the entire lobster, a choice of 2-and-a-half or 5-pound whoppers, as well as night views of the golf course. The Country Club is more a classic American steak house during the evening. This is when people come to drink red wine and eat char-grilled meats, as well as indulge in a slew of good sides and desserts.
Soups and salads are the way to go if you're planning on the heavier main courses. My favorite is probably the green and white asparagus salad, garnished simply with prosciutto di Parma and a lemon aioli, ingredients that do not detract from the purity of the vegetables. I also like the chef's lobster bisque, a thick version as pink as a coral necklace.
Hearts of butter lettuce with French green beans and roasted peppers is a light dish with Green Goddess dressing, as are the baby field greens, served with oven-roasted tomatoes and a very correct lemon vinaigrette. The one misstep is the Caesar, done with anchovy crisps and frico (chips of fried Parmesan cheese). Go lighter on the dressing, fellows, please.
Entrées include a few nice pieces of fish—and those steaks. The one steak I tried was a 16-ounce New York strip, which came to the table with a wicked char. I liked it while my wife did not. Colorado lamb chops were perfectly medium rare, and my piece of grilled swordfish couldn't have been improved upon, given the rock shrimp, roasted corn, arugula and English pea accompaniments. Roasted, free-range chicken was salty, a pity because the garnishes—hen of the woods mushrooms, arugula and fennel—were great.
As are the side dishes, in fact, led by something called Country Club crisp potatoes—the world's greatest hash browns. Think of roasted potatoes, sliced and baked with cream and garlic until they are browned, and then quickly fried to a powerful crunch. They're addictive, so be warned.
Buttermilk-battered onion rings are bionic and heavily battered, not to everyone's taste perhaps, but creamed spinach and whipped Yukon gold potatoes are faultless. Woodland mushrooms are fine, too, a mix of whatever the chef has in the house and broiled in butter.
The all-American wine list is from Wynn Wine Director Danielle Price and loaded with good boutique choices such as a Ken Wright Oregon pinot noir. Dessert is from the hand of whiz Frederic Robert, and runs to imaginative fare: a rich, winter plum crisp with Armagnac ice cream, say, or a Gallic take on chocolate cake, which ends up being much denser and more elegant than anything grand-mère ever made.
The Country Club isn't trying to redefine American cooking. Just improve it.