Rainbow Bar and Grill, a 7,500-square-foot, 24/7 venue directly across the street from the Hard Rock, seems like a no-brainer for Vegas, but the jury is still out. It is already a hot after-hours nightspot, and surely the only place in town where you can eat a plate of fried chicken and waffles at 4 a.m. Bravo, but so what?
The homey aspects of the menu—in particular, retro-Italian dishes such as chicken Scarpariello: chicken breast dipped in egg batter and sautéed in lemon butter with pieces of sliced Italian sausage—eventually won me over, and in general, I enjoyed the place.
It's an offshoot of the original Rainbow Bar and Grill on Sunset Boulevard in West Hollywood, and both belong to a pair of record executives, Jerry and Bob Greenberg. That explains the rock 'n' roll museum theme. If all the head shots of rock stars, electric guitars and black-and-white celebrity photos were removed, it would resemble any other old Vegas haunt with red-leather booths.
You enter through the bar. The main dining room is done in faux-brick wallpaper and overhead plasma-screen TVs are flashing the latest sports scores on ESPN. The sound system plays oldies from the '70s and '80s such as the Band's "Up on Cripple Creek" and similar boomer nostalgia.
Once comfortably nestled in your booth, start a meal with the restaurant's most celebrated dish, chicken soup. This is no Jewish mother's soup, but more like one made by a Mexican grandmother, minus any spicy heat. Picture a bowl filled with broth stocked with chicken, potatoes, carrots and zucchini, a slow-cooked soup that really tastes homemade. This is the cup, by the way. Order the bowl and you get a vessel roughly the size of your head.
Everyone also seems to be eating pizzas here, too: cheesy, medium-crusted pies on a pizza stand, nicely blackened on the bottom. The pizza is fine, but hardly memorable. I liked the margherita, made with fresh plum tomatoes and no marinara sauce, but as usual in places like these, someone has a heavy hand with the mozzarella.
Other starters are worth a try. I especially liked the deep-fried artichoke hearts and the accompanying sweet marinara sauce. They are nicely breaded without being oily. Minestrone soup, made with chicken broth, is also delicious and has the same, slow-cooked flavor as the chicken soup.
Come for lunch and try the good house tuna salad or tangy Caesar with chicken. The panini come with a choice of fries, coleslaw or potato salad. Go for the veal Parmesan or chicken Milanese: breaded, finely pounded chicken breast sautéed in olive oil.
Pastas, available 24/7, are enormous, as are many portions here, and more suitable to be shared than eaten alone. Spaghetti and meatballs is just fine, as is the linguine all'amartricina, in a sumptuous sauce made from prosciutto, onion and plum tomato.
But the two star pasta dishes on the menu are the lobster ravioli—tri-colored ravioli with a delicious tomato-basil sauce flavored by lobster stock—and penne alla vodka, pasta tubes tossed in a tomato-cream sauce that glows a soft pink, subtly flavored with vodka.
Main dishes include several veal and seafood choices, most ably prepared. Shrimp fra diavolo has a spicy marinara sauce, while the more traditional scampi is dressed up with lots of garlic and butter. Zuppe di pesce is the literal kitchen sink: lobster, clams, shrimp, mussels and calamari, all bathing in a spicy or mild marinara sauce. I didn't taste the linguine with white clams, but my friend Mark, an accomplished Italian chef, swears by it.
Myself, I swear by the veal dishes. The veal here is surprisingly tender, and again, portions are generous. On my first visit, I tried to order veal Francese, the meat dipped in light egg batter, but the kitchen erroneously prepared veal Marsala, and I was glad they did. I loved the subtly flavored sauce made with a sweet Italian wine and the meat literally melted in my mouth.
When I went back, I had the Francese, a trencherman portion not quite as tender as the Marsala. I've also had chicken Scarpariello, which is meaty and heavy, and a classic pork chops and peppers, which I chose to order with hot cherry peppers. On the side, with any of these meat dishes, make sure to order the kitchen's crack spinach in garlic oil.
Desserts definitely could use some work. One of the managers raved about a chocolate cheesecake but it had refrigerator burn. Then I got roped into ordering zeppole, an Italian type of doughnut that, when at its best, is made from a light, eggy batter. These were not—just lumps of dough dusted with confectioner's sugar, presented in a brown paper bag. No Italian worth his salt would go near them.
I'm definitely going back to this place, especially when I am out in the wee hours and have a hankering for a nice bowl of soup to banish the demons. Let's hope Rainbow sticks around.