Shabu-Shabu Paradise

That’s the subtext the restaurant uses in its ads, and it’s understandable on the surface. Shabu-shabu is, after all, a style of cooking in which foods are held in a simmering broth and then dipped into sauces. Sort of like fondue, right?

Except that it’s not. I think when most people think of fondue, they think of cheese, or maybe oil: heavy, and not particularly healthful. That has in large part changed over the years (especially in this country), but the image sticks.

So let’s clear up any misconception right now. Shabu-shabu involves a very light broth and is healthful — and can be a thoroughly enjoyable way to have a meal.

The shabu-shabu restaurants in the Las Vegas Valley all have their own particular styles, ranging from utilitarian to quaint. But I’d say Shabu-Shabu Paradise is the best I’ve encountered. Why? Lots of reasons, among them the service, which was friendly, patient and efficient, and the decor, which is relatively simple but had lots of life thanks to a liberal use of crimson.

And also the style of service, which makes things quite easy for the customer. The broth — which is so light as to be virtually water, with just a bit of herbal flavoring — is in pots heated over induction burners, which keep the heat level very even (and can be hazardous to those with pacemakers, so be forewarned). Our table for four had two burners; the two of us were brought a pot divided, in a suitably yin-and-yang style, into two sections, so that we each had our own section for cooking.

Dinners include salad (a nice selection of crisp greens with a kickier-than-normal — and that’s a good thing — Benihana-style ginger dressing). That’s followed by a plate of vegetables (cabbage, carrot slices, scallions and bamboo shoots), plus large cubes of tofu and shirataki noodles, which are made with tofu. Three sauces arrive as well — a ponzu, a peanut and an extremely fiery spicy ponzu.

What you get with your plate of vegetables and tofu depends on how hungry you are and how much (and how many types of) meat and seafood you want to eat. To try as many as possible, we chose a half-shrimp and half-scallop ($20) and a half-beef and half-chicken ($18); those were brought out on plates with the shrimp whole, the scallops and chicken thickly sliced, the beef paper-thin. And so the fun began.

We generally stuck with chopsticks, although our waitress brought out two “secret-weapon” skimmer-type things for anything that slipped out of our grasp. She also brought a larger, finer skimmer in a pot, which could be used to remove any foam that formed on the surface.

And we dipped and ate, dipped and ate. The beef was so thin it required barely a pass over the pot to bring it to medium-rare, although the shrimp and chicken took a couple of minutes. One of us took the opportunity to cook the scallops just to near-carpaccio levels, while the other cooked them through. All of the ingredients were laudably fresh, carefully trimmed and well complemented by the sauces (but be forewarned that that spicy ponzu was not for the faint of heart).

That overall level of quality characterized our dinner at Shabu-Shabu Paradise. We’d started with an appetizer of shrimp with wasabi cocktail sauce ($7), which defined truth in advertising, since most American wasabi actually is horseradish, after all. The shrimp were excellent — just firm enough, fresh and sweet. Even a simple starter of edamame ($3) was much better than usual, the pods hot and lightly salted.

Dessert was simple, a complimentary dish of vanilla ice cream with fruit topping, much in keeping with the spirit of the rest of the meal.

Yet the restaurant, in a small suburban shopping center, is rarely busy, which is somewhat of a mystery. My guess is that it’s because of any confusion that “Japanese fondue” label might engender.

So take it from me: This is the real thing. And yes, it’s spectacular.

Las Vegas Review-Journal reviews are done anonymously at Review-Journal expense. Contact reporter Heidi Knapp Rinella at 383-0474 or e-mail her at hrinella@reviewjournal.com.