Mastro’s deserving of good reputation with quality food, service

Well, all right, then.

Service, it seems, is given more than lip service at Mastro’s. As we walked to the table, the young man told me about the lounge and the live music there, then a bit about the design of the dining room, which is in a big wooden structure resembling the crown of a tree, perched above the main floor at Crystals. After he seated me (with a black napkin since I was wearing black — not an uncommon touch these days, but still a welcome one) — a server approached. She told me she wouldn’t be serving our table but was helping the server who was, and asked if she could get me some water. And then he approached and took my order for a glass of wine — all in the five minutes or so before the others arrived.

I liked this place.

There was a lot to like at Mastro’s, and the service was just the beginning. The treelike structure actually provides sort of an airy feel, and the bubble-strewn chandeliers provided plenty of light without glare. I also liked the long, serpentine banquettes that sort of wind together, forming boothlike spaces for large parties. The live music could be heard in the dining room, but just enough, so that dinner conversation was not only possible but easy.

And I was pleased — though not surprised, given the attention to detail — to find that the food measured up to the rest.

Vanilla-battered shrimp ($20) was a given for a starter, because vanilla-battered seafood is a Mastro’s signature and because it just sounded so odd. What arrived was a plate bearing three huge prawns, positioned to evoke the sails of windblown ships for a nice bit of nautical imagery. The shrimp themselves? While there was a breathy whisper of it there, they carried no clear flavor of vanilla, for which I was grateful. Instead, they reminded me of nothing so much as something I’d get at a county fair. That may be a little surprising, but the one commonality that characterizes the purveyors of fair food is an ability to fry stuff, and these shrimp were exquisitely fried, the brittle golden coating protecting the moist shellfish within. Two sauces were served on the side.

Sauteed sea scallops ($35) were perfectly cooked, lightly browned on the outside, the interiors characteristic of the sweet chewiness of the bivalves. They were served in a flat bowl, strewn across three long slices of baguette that had been soaked with the lightly garlicked butter in which the scallops had been cooked. The bread was a little rich for me, but if you have an appetite for it, it would be nirvana.

A 10-ounce New York strip ($44) had been seasoned with an agreeable signature blend and served medium-rare as ordered. A side of creamed spinach ($10) was conventional and quite tasty, a Gorgonzola mac and cheese ($11) rich with assertive flavors.

Service was excellent, courses arriving with perfect timing. We saw our waiter only sporadically. No matter, though, because the team approach that’s clearly in place worked perfectly.

And as we tucked into the restaurant’s signature warm butter cake ($14), with the big scoop of ice cream on top and large bowl of whipped cream on the side, we were about as satisfied as it gets. Its reputation preceded it, and it is one that’s justly earned.

Actually, in retrospect, I remember noticing a prevailing aroma of butter as I entered the restaurant. Whether that was from the cakes or if they use it on the steaks or just have a special air filter, I have no idea, but I will say this: Like the gracious welcome, it’s never a bad sign.

Las Vegas Review-Journal reviews are done anonymously at Review-Journal expense. Contact Heidi Knapp Rinella at 383-0474 or e-mail her at hrinella@ reviewjournal.com.