We have it on good authority that you will soon be shucking oysters under chandeliers and eating rotisserie
sheep under Christmas lights in a leafy backyard.
In the middle of the desert, no less.
Just go with it...
Introducing Culinary Dropout, a new restaurant by way of Arizona stuck between its dusty, down-home roots and full-blown Vegas excess, opening Friday at the Hard Rock.
The space: 6,000 square feet split evenly between marble-topped raw bars and rotisserie spits inside, and a patio with vintage couches, live music and fire pits neighboring the Hard Rock’s pool scene outside. Thus, its function is multifold.
If your goal is the post-blackjack pop-in, settle in at the beer and wine bar facing the open charcuterie table in front. When you see a chef hand-cranking rare Iberian Spanish ham into appetizer form on a 300-pound, gold-pinstriped Berkel slicer, you’ll know what to do.
If you’ve come on a date, you’ll want the 12-seat raw bar, the chicken-fried pork chops (not that you don’t trust Arizona guys with king crab) and a side of honey-drizzled biscuits.
And for weekend brunch, follow the sounds of live music through the drop-down garage door onto a patio filled with long, brightly colored banquettes and curiously placed mirrors, ordering a bacon-infused Bloody Mary with your Cap’n Crunch french toast.
Nobody’s judging you here.
In the middle of the desert, no less.
Just go with it...
Introducing Culinary Dropout, a new restaurant by way of Arizona stuck between its dusty, down-home roots and full-blown Vegas excess, opening Friday at the Hard Rock.
The space: 6,000 square feet split evenly between marble-topped raw bars and rotisserie spits inside, and a patio with vintage couches, live music and fire pits neighboring the Hard Rock’s pool scene outside. Thus, its function is multifold.
If your goal is the post-blackjack pop-in, settle in at the beer and wine bar facing the open charcuterie table in front. When you see a chef hand-cranking rare Iberian Spanish ham into appetizer form on a 300-pound, gold-pinstriped Berkel slicer, you’ll know what to do.
If you’ve come on a date, you’ll want the 12-seat raw bar, the chicken-fried pork chops (not that you don’t trust Arizona guys with king crab) and a side of honey-drizzled biscuits.
And for weekend brunch, follow the sounds of live music through the drop-down garage door onto a patio filled with long, brightly colored banquettes and curiously placed mirrors, ordering a bacon-infused Bloody Mary with your Cap’n Crunch french toast.
Nobody’s judging you here.
