I ate here twice over the course of a few days. I'm glad I did because I got a better idea of what this place is really like.
The first night I went with my girlfriend and we had a great time--but Chef Martorano was in Florida at the time, so the place was being run by the second in command. It was so good, I figured I had to go back to experience Martorano himself in action, since that's supposed to be part of the draw.
Big mistake,
Yes, it's somewhat amusing that Martorano will not serve anything beer and wine in the dining room for fear that hard booze will interfere with the flavor of the food. Indeed, if this were some kind of delicate cuisine, that might be the case, but this food is anything but demure, and would easily elbow its way to your tastebuds through any booze that happened to be on your tongue. That's not to say this is average Italian fare. For "American" Italian, i.e., East Cost Italian, this is about as good as it gets. Heavy, but good.
The downside is the attitude of the chef/owner, who obviously fancies himself as one of the characters from the mob movie clips he constantly plays on the screens around the restaurant.. Imagine a mutant hybrid of Vin Diesel and Joe Pesci from Goodfellas or Casino as your chef and host. Hospitality is not his forte, and money is foremost on his mind.
The second time I went to the restaurant I brought a party of eight clients with me, for a total of nine. The reservation was originally for ten, but one of the clients fell ill and did not make it to dinner. For this transgression, $50 showed up on my credit card statement. Not on the bill that night, mind you, but on my statement. It was charged after the fact, despite the hostess assuring me that I would not have to pay for the no-show (I read the fine print and knew what was going on). I had to call twice to have the $50 finally credited back to my account, so I guess I should be grateful for small favors.
We had a family-style dinner that cost over $3000, and we let them serve us whatever they thought was best. So out comes the one-shrimp appetizers (yes, it is a very large shrimp, and very delicious) and the waiter goes around the table and puts one on everybody's plate but mine. When I ask him what's up, he says the kitchen made a mistake and goes back to get another. I watch him and the chef have a heated discussion. He returns and sheepishly tells me that Chef insists he sent out 9 shrimp and if we want another one it will cost extra. WTF? Did he not just serve us 8 shrimp? "Yes, I did, sir, and you're right, but the chef doesn't care." Really? I'm glad he can afford to have that kind of attitude.
I really wanted to like this place, and I was looking forward to sharing a unique find (especially at The Rio) with my fellow travelers. After all, despite the in-your-face arrogance, the loud music that prevents conversation, and the gory movie clips loaded with the F word, the ingredients were very fresh and well-prepared. But food alone does not make a restaurant. Call me finicky, but I don't enjoy being shaken down while I'm trying to entertain clients to the tune of three grand plus. To his credit, the waiter tried to make up for the chef's goombah behavior, but all I wanted to do was finish, pay the exorbitant bill, and never return.
My advice is to avoid the place altogether unless Chef Martorano is back in Florida abusing the patrons at his other restaurant. Here, the customer is always wrong, and there are plenty of excellent restaurants in Vegas where you can dine like a king and not be treated like a stronzo.



