Shari’s Diner

3707959

3707958

Shari’s Diner came close to insulting my mom.

My mom, you see, is one heck of a cook. Yeah, everybody says that about their mother, but hers is the kind of cooking widely admired by those who have acknowledged other family members as reliable sources of indigestion, if not … well … potential death.

Anyway. In that folksy style unique to diner-style restaurants everywhere, Shari’s menu promises of its pot roast that "next to your mom’s, this is the best." And it’s not.

The first flavor sensations I got after tasting Shari’s Old Fashion Yankee Pot Roast ($11.95) were salty and sticky, neither of which I like to think of when I think of pot roast, my mom’s or anybody else’s. But then I scraped off the gravy and guess what? The meat itself was pretty decent — braised until it was gently tender, and with a reasonable depth of beefy flavor.

So what does that mean? If I had to guess, I’d say shortcuts with the gravy — either instant or canned or some other form of the chemistry experiments that come out of restaurant suppliers these days. Yes, homemade gravy is a laborious process and takes a certain amount of skill. Yes, it’s tough to do in quantity. But this substandard version all but ruined a pretty decent piece of beef, and the pretty decent, peels-in mashed potatoes that accompanied it (along with some reasonably crisp green beans).

And Shari’s can do better, which was proved by other dishes we sampled. The tent-cards on the table were a clear indication (read: dead giveaway) that some of Shari’s starters were straight out of the purveyor’s freezer, so we went with one labeled "A Shari’s Original," the Philly Cheese Steak Fries ($7.99). And they were delicious. Delicious in a junk-food kind of way (and I defy anybody to prove that the most delicious Philly cheesesteak is anything but glorious junk food): There was a big pile of fries, golden-hued and crispy on the edges, doused with a puddle of bright yellow, Cheez Whiz-y sauce and topped with sliced sauteed beef and onions. A guilty pleasure, but a pleasure indeed.

And another dish billed as a Shari’s original, advertised on signs around the dining room: The Brie-Licious ($11.25), a half-pound burger stuffed with brie and bacon, topped with onions sauteed for mellowness and sliced apples left raw for crunchiness, plus more melted brie. It wasn’t exactly medium-rare as we had ordered, but it was tasty nonetheless. It came with fries, which — as our very pleasant, friendly, efficient and effective waitress pointed out — we already were having a big pile of with our starter. So when she suggested coleslaw, we readily agreed and found it quite good, a mayonnaise-dressed pile of crunchy cabbage with some blue cabbage and carrot for color.

But back to the dining room, because it’s truly worthy of note. Shari’s is one of those retro-style diners that were all the rage for a while and that still have a great deal of appeal. There’s the shiny metal exterior (complete with parked motorcycles) and an interior with black-and-white ceramic-tile floors, gray-and-red booths and even a red-laminate ceiling. There’s retro counter seating and a retro jukebox in every booth, although they don’t seem to work very well (the central jukebox is more reliable but still a little problematic; you know how temperamental those "antiques" can be).

We finished with a peanut-butter malt ($5.50) — rich, sweet, wretched excess at its best.

It was a classic, handmade. And it was the sort of thing that Shari’s Diner does best.

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.