Warm and satisfying, the al dente pasta had a savory chewy texture, complemented by the decadent crunch of partially cooked vegetables. Steaming and buttery, the cheese cut the richness with its salty notes, even partially melting into the pasta itself for the heavenly gooey strands that dreams were made of.

And to my own surprise, the dish filled me up. Almost in entirety! Promising the staff that I would conjure up an appetite at the New York rendition of the restaurant, I still left room for dessert, a sin in the mandatory shirtless sin city. Keeping the sweltering weather in mind, I glossed over the appealing chocolatey indulgences and favored a coconut panna cotta. And what arrived lived up to the city of Vegas as an ultimate illusion.

It looked like a vivid dark coral soup, reminiscent of several runway hues from fashion week. Almost like a visual game of deceit, for it looked like ricotta on tomato soup. It was in fact guava soup, topped with the panna cotta and caramelized pineapple. Treating myself to some of my favorite tropical fruits, the guava in particular whisked me to India where I had spent many months acquiring it’s taste with my parents. The chilled soup tingled all the way down till my abdomen, readying me for the boiling pool beds. The coconut panna cotta was jiggly and decadent, and although not my favorite of textures, blended well with its accompaniments. The pineapple was not saccharine in caramelization, letting the citrus cut through the sweet and fluid textures. A pineapple fritter added crunch, and amused the drunken passerbys into thinking it was Parmesan cheese!

A play of temperatures was clearly at play, and with a mind and body chilled like ice in succulent pleasure, I slowly floated out into the blazing heat of this oasis. 

Knowing that an oasis never really disappears, but rather swallows you up. Like ice.