The salad, not surprisingly, is simply iceberg lettuce with two cherry tomatoes. Nobody comes around with a giant pepper grinder. I asked for rare, and by golly it is rare. I get the baked potato, partly on the advice of world-famous gourmand Anthony Curtis but also because the waiter doesn't give me a choice. The baked potato is fine.
Potatoes are potatoes.
We'll call it a push. Jacqueline finishes her Raisin Bran and has Sugar Smacks for dessert. We're tired, but we're eager to log our first blackjack session, and it isn't a long walk to our beloved Golden Gate. I hesitate to say this in a public forum, lest people take it seriously and start showing up there, but I don't understand why the Golden Gate gets brushed off, why guidebooks would lead one to believe the Plaza is a classier joint. The Golden Gate, for my money, is the best casino in Las Vegas.