Piero’s Italian Cuisine

Various clues identify Piero's as a conventionaire/tourist-centric restaurant.

There's the location, first and foremost, hard by the Las Vegas Convention Center. During the busy MAGIC week -- and thanks to, yes, road construction -- it took us 10 minutes to reach it via the short stretch of Convention Center Drive between the Strip and the restaurant. Locals wouldn't put up with that, at least not by choice.

Then there are the expense-account prices. I'm not even going to get into overhead and profit margins here, but when you're charging $14 for an artichoke, $26 for a plate of pasta, $14 for a martini or $15 for a glass of wine, you can bet it's generally not locals who are paying it.

Then, of course, there's the clientele. Even at 6:30 on a weeknight the place was packed with a quite noisy (thought not particularly raucous) crowd, most of them still wearing their MAGIC badges, in very large, expense-account-likely parties.

But Piero's is that rare tourism-corridor restaurant that manages to cater to tourists without treating the clientele like ... well, tourists. Not only did they not try to upsell us into bottled water, they didn't even offer it, trusting that, as grown-ups, we could order it ourselves if we wished. And the gratis water that they poured came from bottles -- probably from the kitchen's own filter, which is no doubt perfectly adequate.

And they actually didn't try to upsell us on anything, beyond tempting us with the dessert tray.

And our server told us her name and was very welcoming but not overly chummy, and didn't ask where we were from. She was friendly -- and formally dressed, like the rest of the personnel -- but simply did her job, efficiently and professionally.

So is Piero's a tourist restaurant or a locals' restaurant? Neither; it's simply a good restaurant.

Yes, there are the prices, but then again there's the whole "Casino" vibe, the understated decor (with the exception of the from-no-animal-that-exists-in-nature striped carpet), the level of service and the quality of the food.

The artichoke ($14) we shared as a starter was large and fresh, the spiny bits removed but the majority of the leaves (even the outer ones, the removal of which we always considered a waste) left intact, with a seasoned, buttery breadcrumb-and-cheese mix packed between them. It was a delicious artichoke, and we found ourselves spooning up the errant crumb mixture as well. It also was a very messy artichoke, and so we were quite happy when an assistant server came by with little rolled-up cloths in saucers, over which he poured hot water as they expanded (and then knocked them over, lest they appear a bit phallic) for the wiping of our fingers.

Saltimbocca alla Romano ($36) was a triumph. This is truly how this dish should be served, the delicate scallops of veal layered with prosciutto and enough sage leaves that the flavor of the herb was unmistakable, for a triumphant blend of flavors. And the three layered pieces were very delicately sauteed, just slightly crisped at the edges.

The Fettuccine A Modo Mio ($26) was foremost pasta, make no mistake. The broccoli florets, nuggets of porcini mushrooms and chewy bits of pancetta were there, but as an accent, not the main event. That was fine for a pasta lover like me because the fresh ribbons were delicate, the tomato-cream sauce that cloaked them deftly prepared.

Both dinners included salads, and they were quite nice, a mix of spring and field greens with tomato and carrot and a decent vinaigrette. Italian bread was warm and wonderfully resilient.

Tempting us with the dessert cart was a successful move, and we chose a dish of creamy tiramisu ($11). What struck us here was a parallel to the saltimbocca -- that the kitchen had enough courage to let strong-flavored ingredients predominate, in this case coffee. This was the "coffee-ist" tiramisu I can remember in quite a while, and the best.

All of which proves one of my favorite aphorisms: that we all should live like tourists, at least once in a while.

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.