Las Vegas: Before the World Stopped

Five days at the Palms Casino Resort in late January. We were in town for an influencer event, the thing where brands fly people out, put them up, and hope the content writes itself. The event was fine. What I remember more clearly is the hotel, the food, and the fact that none of us knew what was coming in about eight weeks. This was January 2020. We were making plans for the rest of the year like the rest of the year was guaranteed.

The Palms had just finished a $690 million renovation. That's not a typo. Nearly $700 million poured into a property that sits just west of the Strip on Flamingo Road. Close enough to be convenient, far enough to feel like its own ecosystem. The renovation was total. The casino floor was rebuilt with a new open layout that felt more like a lounge than a gambling hall. The rooms were gutted and redone in a modern, clean style that had nothing in common with the mid-2000s version most people remember. The pool area became a multi-level, massive complex with multiple pools and cabanas, some with their own private pools. And the art collection turned the hallways into a gallery worth walking slowly through. Damien Hirst, Basquiat, KAWS. There's a massive Hirst piece, a shark suspended in formaldehyde, hanging above the check-in desk. It's either brilliant or insane depending on how you feel about dead sharks in hotel lobbies. I thought it was both.

If you ever stayed at the old Palms, the one MTV made famous with The Real World in 2002, you wouldn't recognize the 2019 version. The name was the same. Everything else was different.

The rooms facing west have views of the Spring Mountains, which at sunset turn this dusty pink color that doesn't look real. Photographs don't capture it. The desert light does something at that hour that you can only see with your eyes in the room. Standard rooms are well above Vegas average: proper blackout curtains (essential when the desert sun hits your window at 6 AM and you went to bed at 3), good mattresses that actually support your back instead of the trampoline-firm things a lot of hotels use, and bathrooms that feel designed by someone who bathes instead of someone who photographs bathrooms for a brochure. The suites go full Vegas absurd. The Kingpin Suite has a two-lane bowling alley inside it. The Hardwood Suite has a half-court basketball setup. We didn't stay in either, but we walked through them during the event. In any other city, a bowling alley inside a hotel room would be a red flag. In Vegas, it's a feature.

The food was the real highlight. Scotch 80 Prime is the Palms' flagship steakhouse, and it runs at a level that most hotel restaurants never reach. The name comes from the whisky collection, which fills an entire wall behind the bar and runs deep into rare Scotch, Japanese whisky, and small-batch bourbons that you won't find at most bars. The room itself is dark leather, warm wood, low lighting, and a raw bar near the entrance that does oysters and king crab that are worth the stop even if you're not staying for a full dinner.

The 45-day dry-aged bone-in ribeye is the showpiece on the menu, and it earns the spotlight. But here's the move most people miss: start with the A5 wagyu appetizer if it's on the menu that night. It's small, it's expensive, and it will permanently recalibrate your understanding of what beef can taste like. The fat renders at body temperature, which means it starts melting the moment it hits your tongue. You don't chew it so much as you let it happen. G closed her eyes on the first bite. She does this when food actually hits a level she wasn't expecting. I've learned to watch for it. The steak tartare is also excellent, prepared tableside if you ask (always ask, the tableside preparation is half the experience). For sides, they come family-style, and the creamed corn is the one the whole table fights over. It has no business being that good as a side dish at a steakhouse. But it is. Pair everything with something from their bourbon list. It's deep, well-curated, and the bartenders know enough to steer you toward something interesting without being condescending about it.

We also ate at Momofuku at the Cosmopolitan, about a ten-minute drive from the Palms (or a $15 Uber, because nobody walks in Vegas, not really, even when the distance seems walkable on a map). David Chang's Vegas outpost has been on the second floor of the Cosmopolitan since 2017, and it's one of the few celebrity-chef Vegas restaurants that doesn't feel like a franchise. The steamed pork buns are what made Chang famous in New York, and the Vegas version is identical: pillowy bun, braised pork belly, hoisin, pickled cucumber, scallion. Two bites and it's gone. We ordered three rounds. By the third round the server just smiled and said "same again?" without asking.

The fried chicken and caviar sounds like a dare somebody made at a board meeting. It is absurd. A whole half-chicken, golden-fried, served with a tin of caviar and a stack of white toast. It should not work. It does. If you're with a group of four or more, the large-format bo ssam (slow-roasted pork shoulder with oysters, rice, bibb lettuce wraps, and all the fixings) is the order. It takes 45 minutes because they roast it to order, so put it in early. The truffle ramen gets all the press but the regular pork ramen is actually better: richer broth, cleaner flavor, less truffle interference. And the late-night Peach Bar menu after 11 PM is its own separate thing: smaller dishes, cocktails, a more casual energy. Perfect for after the casino, which is the whole point.

One broader Vegas food tip: the best food in this city is not on the Strip. Lotus of Siam on Sahara Avenue is a Thai restaurant in a strip mall that multiple publications have called the best Thai in America. The wine list has no business being that good. Raku is a Japanese charcoal grill in Chinatown, no reservations, worth the wait. And Golden Steer on Sahara has been open since 1958 and still does a bone-in filet in a room that looks like the Rat Pack just left. Get in a car. The real food is 10 minutes off the Strip.

Vegas in January is cold. Not Toronto cold, but cold enough that you need a real jacket walking the Strip after dark. The desert doesn't hold heat. Daytime is pleasant (low 50s, sunny, perfect for walking) but evenings drop into the 40s and the wind coming off the open desert has a bite that catches people off guard. Pack accordingly.

Two months after we left, the Palms closed. COVID shut it down in March 2020 and it sat dark for over two years before reopening in April 2022 under new ownership. That January trip was one of the last times we stayed there before the renovation era ended and the new chapter started. Good five days. Good food. Good hotel. Sometimes that's the whole story.