Ramen is a coquettish Japanese noodle soup. Whiskey is a bold, internationally adored spirit. One night, they run into each other at the Ogden’s new ramen-and-whiskey joint. Everything’s perfect. Then ramen meets Spam and whiskey meets a highball glass with lemon and thyme, and... nope. Still perfect.
From the last page of Fukuburger’s fake road journal: “It gets lonely out there. Roaming the Strip with all our fried-egg-and-wasabi-mayo-topped beef patties. So we’re coming home. To the Hawaiian Marketplace. With lots of outdoor seating, applewood-smoked bacon and Japanese-style hotlinks. We’re coming home.” Huh. How fake-poignant.
All you wanted was a quiet round of golf at the Wynn. Few cold beers. Nice stogie. But Vegas—Vegas couldn’t leave you alone. They just had to go and make your normal caddie an absolutely beautiful caddie from Qtees. And you just had to accept. Powerlessness, etc.
The Goliath wine bottles at José Andrés’s Bazaar Meat, by the numbers. 36: normal wine bottles equivalent to one Goliath wine bottle. 216: glasses one Goliath wine bottle can fill. 1: wood-fired suckling pigs you’ll enjoy with your red. 0: times you’ll see someone attempt a “Goliath-stand.” We hope.
While Pacquiao and Mayweather are fighting this weekend, you’ll be attending two parties at the ever-sexy Foxtail Pool Club. On Friday: Sports Illustrated cover goddess Hannah Davis will grace you with her presence. On Saturday: Puff Daddy plays host. On Sunday: you’ll likely require a nap.
