Las Vegas Weekly

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A girl’s first time should be special. Perhaps a bottle of J. Rogét Brut, a party hat, a splash of confetti, an entourage of attentive men and as many pounds of food as she can cram on one plate (or maybe three).

No wedding spread or Easter luncheon could have prepared me for Sunset Station’s Feast, my very first Las Vegas buffet. Not counting a salad bar the size of a studio apartment and a case of ice cream, it offers 180 dishes and 55 desserts.

“Carbs at the end,” advised Station Casinos PR manager Jay Alpert, waving me toward the chaffing dishes like Willy Wonka about to break into song. My strategy was to take only what I couldn’t resist: 2 plantain slices, 1 scoop Pad Thai, 3 spicy cabbage leaves, 1 slice beef brisket, 1 scoop butternut squash, 3 Brussels sprouts, 1 barbecued chicken thigh, 2 broccoli florets, 3 tofu chunks, 1 cheese ravioli, 2 sesame buns, 1 meatball, a roasted garlic head, 1 scoop corn, 2 cherry tomatoes, a whole jalapeño pepper and a fortune cookie.

I made it about halfway through.

Photo: Steve Marcus

One of the two plates that Weekly writer Erin Ryan chowed down on. Who wants thirds?

“You don’t have to eat everything, but you can taste everything,” said Feast room chef Ben Viray. He left a Strip buffet gig to oversee 54 cooks who’ve fed more than a million people at Sunset Station this year, many of them locals who dig the value, variety, service and mini chocolate éclairs.

I wanted more than one, but I hadn’t touched the carrot cake, red velvet cupcake, macaroon, cannoli and marshmallow brownie on my plate. Viray told me I could go back for thirds—that it’s encouraged—but I didn’t want to seem too eager. I also didn’t want to have to unzip my skirt. I may not be a buffet virgin anymore, but I am a lady.