TASTE: Beyond Garlic

Garlic is one of those substances, like weapons-grade plutonium, about which it's hard to find an ambivalent opinion. Either it's as much one of the four basic food groups as caffeine and vodka, or it gets batted away with the same furious loathing that Dracula exhibited when Van Helsing sprung the old "mirror in a box" trick on him. In dismal memory resides a San Francisco vegetarian hole-in-the-wall so fervently macrobiotic that its menu boasted that none of its dishes were prepared with garlic. "Why are we here then?" I asked my companion—and, in fact, the kitchen crew could have parboiled the cardboard menu itself with more satisfying results.

In American eating establishments, garlic serves the overly useful purpose of instantly establishing ethnic credentials. There are still vast swaths of the U.S. where anything with more wallop than Butter-Flavored Crisco is viewed with suspicion, this long after Julia Child lives only in PBS reruns, where mincing up a single clove can make you the most adventurous cook in your neighborhood. In those prairie zones, all a new restaurant has to do to convince its cornfed patrons that they've arrived at the frontiers of gustatory exoticism is pile on the garlic and never mind any subtleties of seasoning beyond that. As long as the tears are streaming and the sinuses clearing, that's all that matters.

Hungry diners, cruising on Las Vegas' west side for anything other than franchise fast food, can be grateful that George and Louie Demolas have taken a different path with their Greek American Grille, recently opened on the northeast corner of Flamingo and Decatur. Maybe a long sojourn in the Midwest tempered to a degree the enthusiasm for garlic that they might have brought with them from their native village near Athens. They could probably even dial it up a bit now that they're here in Vegas and pack in even more of a lunch crowd than they're already serving during the work week. At the same time, the present low level of garlic potency, unusual in a Mediterranean-themed eatery, allows for a more refreshing balance between the tastes of less overpowering spices and the fresh lemon underlying many of the dishes. The aroma of a flambéed spanakopita revs up the appetite before the cheese and accompanying pita bread hits the table. A salad of mixed greens, feta and kalamata olives, mounded even higher with thin layers of gyros, is a bargain; a tablemate's skewer of chicken pieces was a bit on the dry side and not quite such a generous portion. The hummus is of the coarse-textured, peasant-y variety, rather than the silky-smooth, overly processed type found at similar establishments. Given the Grille's location, burgers are on the menu along with an assortment of deli sandwiches, some more Greek—or at least Greek-ish—than others; the feta cheeseburger is a worthwhile variation.

Homemade desserts are worth a detour from one's New Year's dieting resolutions. The baklava is made with a delicately flavored simple syrup, less cloying than the honey concoctions favored elsewhere. Alternatives beyond that are limited so far, but few of the Demolas family's guests will have a problem finding something with which to cap off their meal.

Authenticity isn't measured simply by the number of garlic cloves peeled and chopped per plate. If you want to be a tourist, then smash your own plates at home and nurse a bottle of ouzo through another viewing of your old Zorba videocassette. But when you're hungry, this simple and simply done food will hit a much more satisfying mark.