Two years ago, Pam and I went to Las Vegas to see the Beatles' Love show. This year we had more ambitious plans. You've undoubtedly heard about the Skywalk, a clear plexiglass tongue extending over the edge of the Grand Canyon. We had to see it for ourselves. So we caught a cheap Allegiant flight and got there in a couple of hours.
Unfortunately, everyone and his brother decided to check into Caesar's Palace at the same time we did. Already, I'm not appreciating the big city life.
After we got situated in our room, I was starved. Pam, always on top of the food scene, recommended Beijing Noodle No. 9, one of several restaurants in Caesar's. When you walk into the place, your eyes go wild trying to take in the decor.
We walked by the huge tanks filled with Ryukin goldfish and had a seat. Pam told our server we were interested in some dish with fresh noodles. Our server recommended we move to the counter directly in front of the pasta kitchen where master noodle maker, Jimmy Ma, was in the process of making a new batch.
He took a long slab of a flour and water mixture, stretch it to arms length, then slapped it down HARD on the counter, making quite a racket. He did this several times.
Jimmy then twisted the dough, folded it in half, took the ends and stretched them to arm's length again and again, until ...
Voila [or the Mandarin equivalent thereof] -- fresh noodles!
Jimmy was featured on the back cover of that week's issue of Las Vegas. We found one of the magazines in our room so Pam returned to the restaurant the next day and got Jimmy's autograph on it. To our dismay, our maid decided to replace it with the new Las Vegas edition when she cleaned our room on Sunday. Drats! But the food was delicious.
That night we headed downtown as I wanted Pam to experience night life on Fremont Street, recalling how much I had enjoyed it last Spring.