Nothing much has changed in terms of the décor, which is hotel modern and vaguely generic, except for the Moroccan—themed lanterns just beyond the front podium, and the colorful and distinctive carpet, decorative art at its most blatantly commercial. Before the sun goes down, there are beautiful lake and mountain views from tables situated on the left side. As for the odd name, the menu tells us "marssa" is a Euro—Asian term meaning "of, or by way of the sea."
Much of what you eat here is done before your eyes in an all—open kitchen. I was pleased when I learned that the hotel had the good sense to retain Chef Fuji Fujita, one of the best sushi masters in the West, when they converted the restaurant. I'm not one to wax rhapsodic about sushi, but the chef's salmon—skin roll, a perfect cone made from crisp nori seaweed, captured the flavors I always hope for in sushi; the tang of the sea, the oily pungency of the fish, sushi rice that you could literally taste grain by grain and fresh grated wasabi, as opposed to that unappetizing green paste I wouldn't touch with a 10—foot chopstick. What's more, all the other sushi I tasted was first—rate, as was a creative tuna tartare, served inside of an alien—looking vessel spewing dry ice.
The main menu doesn't skimp on the creativity, but the results are more hit and miss than what you get from the sushi kitchen. Here, Asian fusion is the touchstone, and dishes like chilled Vietnamese spring rolls, stuffed with barbecued chicken, sliced cucumber and the distinctly non—Asian inclusion of avocado, go down with consummate ease.
Crispy barbecued—duck imperial rolls, on the other hand, are deep fried where the other spring rolls are served chilled and uncooked, doused with red chili oil and dipped into the proffered soy—lime dipping sauce. One of the more Japanese items on the regular menu is togarashi dayboat scallops. They come spiced up with shichimi, literally "seven peppers," a citrussy, blistering condiment found in every mom—and—pop Japanese restaurant.
There are also starters that show the influence of Thai cooking. One is Thai—spiced soft—shell crab, served with Asian cole slaw and a red—chili pepper dressing. Another is velvet lobster soup. Gently perfumed with lemon grass and enriched with coconut milk—and marked by abundant lobster chunks—it's a real winner.
As is the case with many Asian fusion restaurants, from Roy's to P.F. Chang's, I'm not as fond of the main dishes as I am of the starters, although there are several good choices. Miso—braised Kobe short ribs literally melt in the mouth, and the accompaniments such as shiitake mushrooms, grilled asparagus and crisp Maui onions are all delicious.
Pan—roasted wild salmon is also dependable. The richness of the miso butter sauce is more of a distraction than an enhancement, but the tempura green beans on the side save the day.
Two other mains made a lukewarm impression. Grilled lime—mango chicken served with chilled Thai rice noodle, green papaya salad and a mint chili dressing is a good idea, but the boneless breast of chicken is flavorless, and I only ate the garnishes. And char siu duck, whose name I take to mean barbecued (char siu is Cantonese for barbecued pork), I don't care for at all. The meat, done more in the French style—in other words, medium rare and somewhat red—just doesn't suit the plum sauce and mu shu pancakes alongside.
Desserts are good, and though not as creative as the rest of the menu, slightly original as well. Thumbs up to the Asian pear tart, the coconut—crusted, blueberry—stuffed cheesecake and trio of layered mousses, coffee, vanilla and chocolate. And when you walk by the kitchen you'll see undagis, Okinawan—style doughnuts that have a chocolate batter and crème Anglaise in their centers. Make sure to reserve a few. Marssa at Loews Lake Las Vegas