A visit to the Guy Fieri Chophouse in Atlantic City
Please note: This article is published as an archive copy from Philadelphia City Paper. My City Paper is not affiliated with Philadelphia City Paper. Philadelphia City Paper was an alternative weekly newspaper in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The last edition was published on October 8, 2015.
"My name is Blaze," he said. "And these are your guides to Flavortown."
Say what you will about Guy Fieri, it is virtually impossible to not have an opinion about him. A few weeks back, Farsh Askari of Salon claimed that Fieri was singlehandedly responsible for the downfall of the Food Network. Pete Wells, restaurant critic of The New York Times, penned a famously scathing (and entirely hilarious) review of Fieri’s Times Square restaurant in 2012. But there are plenty of folks out there who fall firmly into the Fieri camp, those that flock to the South Philadelphia Taproom for fried peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and headcheese tacos after catching a rerun of Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives.
For me, Fieri inspires a curious mix of emotions, namely intrigue, fascination and confusion. So when the invite came to try the newly opened Guy Fieri’s Chophouse at Bally’s in Atlantic City, well, in the words of the man himself, I hit the Atlantic City Expressway “full throttle.”
Honestly, my expectations weren’t too high when ascending on the massive escalator from the gaming floor of Bally’s to the Chophouse. Celebrity chef restaurants are notoriously heavy on the gimmicks and pricey bills and lacking in pretty much every other department. I was thinking that if nothing else, it was going to be a fun and definitely funny evening. Plus, there was a rolling top-your-own baked potato cart and a subsection of the menu entitled Flavortown.
At the host stand, I was greeted by a smiling hostess wearing a name tag that read Pandora.
Introducing herself, she explained that all the Chophouse employees go by Guy-approved names. She went on to explain that while she was generally happy with her mythologically derived stage name, she did get her fair share of dirty jokes from customers. Not even two minutes into my Chophouse experience and the evening was off to a stellar start.
Seated at a roomy, red-leather banquette, I gazed at the sunset view from the Chophouse windows, which overlooked the Taj Mahal and Resorts, but there was hardly time to take it in before our waiter, Blaze, approached the table.
“My name is Blaze,” he said introducing himself. “And these are your guides to Flavortown,” handing my date and me the menus.
Blaze, a Philadelphia native who relocated to Atlantic City some years back, adapted that signature Fieri enthusiasm and local-newscaster-meets-bro delivery to a T. He knew the menu backward and forward and sported a cropped version of the Fieri goatee and a grey vest with a red leather back.
Starting with cocktails, I went with the CC Rider, a drink that Blaze touted as “a Bloody Mary with everything but the tomato” and my ever-adventurous date asked Blaze to surprise him.
The CC Rider proved to be something of a bad joke of a cocktail, the kind of thing that a Fieri hater would have a field day with. Too sweet Absolut Cilantro with chewy, oversized flecks of black pepper speckled ominously throughout. The Not Your 8th Grade Punch, with peach tea and two types of spiced rum, fared slightly better.
Then we perused the sizable menu. Seriously, choosing between South Jersey-style Kick ’n Calamari and Chophouse Lamb Lollis isn’t an easy task. And can you really pass up the Malibu Roasted Oysters, a recipe that Fieri created with his buddy Matthew McConaughey?
Eventually we set our sights on the Danger wings, Baja shrimp, a wood-grilled filet and the Horseradish-rubbed prime rib. At its heart Guy Fieri’s Chophouse is a steakhouse and that means that steak add-ons (dubbed Steak Bling here) and sides (Wicked Sides, in this case) are a la carte. After consulting with Blaze about his favorite steak additions, we ended up going with all of three — bacon and shrimp scampi, crunchy tempura lobster knuckles and Q’D mushrooms and onions. We added a side of Kreme’d spinach and the obligatory build-your-own baked potato bar aka the Potato Rig.
Up until this point the evening had been a series of highs (Those names! So many Guy-isms! Top notch eavesdropping!) and lows (nearly undrinkable cocktails and what was that too-sweet, pretzel-bread service all about?) But when the apps (dubbed “The Only Way To Start”) arrived, things took a surprising turn.
Ridiculous name aside, the Danger Wings were borderline genius. Served five to an order, the drumettes were frenched, rack of lamb-style for a no Wet-Nap necessary wing-eating experience. And the Blue-sabi? The wasabi heat actually works with blue cheese dressing. The Baja shrimp, tempura fried and dressed with a sweet-hot sriracha mayo, came with thin slices of jalapeno and lime wedges and did a fairly spot-on job mimicking the best elements of a Southern California shrimp taco in a decidedly un-SoCal locale.
First course down and things at the Chophouse were shockingly tasty and portioned in a manner that didn’t scream Fieri excess.
Delivered by Blaze and his assistant, an older gentlemen who’s given name certainly isn’t Zeus, the over-the-top expectations arrived with the entrees. The filet, a solid if not terribly complex steak, was dwarfed by the prime rib. Served medium-rare throughout, this particular slice was upward of 20 ounces and at least two-and-a-half inches thick. There was really no need for the four accompaniments (au jus, horseradish sauce, roasted whole head of garlic or weird mustard-seed crisp) that cluttered the plate. The steak was just that good on its own.
The same could be said of a la carte steak toppings. Sure deep-fried lobster tossed in a hollandaise-y sauce is what you’d imagine tops a steak dreamed up by someone who coined the term Steak Bling, but it doesn’t really do anything to help a serious slice of prime rib that’s perfectly capable of holding its own.
The DIY potato cart is another story entirely. If you grew up in a time when top-your-own baked potato spots sat next to the Orange Julius stand at your local mall food cart, Guy’s Potato Rig is the thing that dreams are made of.
The tableside Rig rolls up with a one pound, salt-crusted, 24-hour brined potato. (News flash: baking potatoes are brinable!) Potato Rig patrons are met with a choice of eight toppings, ranging from the familiar — applewood-smoked bacon, ranch sour cream and artisan butter and cheddar from Fieri’s NoCal home turf, to the more Guy-centric additions like roasted hatch chiles, crispy garlic chips and smoked gouda poured out of a repurposed Jack Daniels bottle. The whole thing is finished with a showy hit from a brulee torch.
Blaze approached the table midway through our second course and asked, “How we doin’? Lovin’ it?”
As much as I was expecting something of a steakhouse-meets-Affliction-T-shirt-Ed-Hardy-motif circus, I was kind of loving it. Aside from a few missteps early on, the meal was a super solid steakhouse experience with an added bonus — some not exactly on purpose, but totally welcome humor via the Fieri branding machine.
And while there weren’t all that many goatees or backward sunglasses involved in the evening, the meal came to a close with a monster slice of Triple Double Pie. It was an ice-cream cake of sorts with layers of mint chocolate chip ice cream, Junior Mints and peppermint fig, served with spikes of dark chocolate and on a plate emblazoned with a chef’s hat wearing skull and crossbones.
GUY FIERI CHOPHOUSE | 1900 Boardwalk, Atlantic City; 609-340-2350, ballysac.com. Daily 4 p.m.-10 p.m.; Appetizers, $8-$15; entrees, $33-$47; desserts, $10-$15.
