For this installment of “Artist Eats,” David Choe begrudgingly shares his favorite place to eat. Choe is a Los Angeles-based artist, high-stakes gambler and blackmailer, whose refined taste in food ranges from Chicken Littles to desserts made of paper.
Continue reading for his answer.
“I’m very scared to answer this question because it’s literally a bar that seats only 12 and has only six broilers, so if there’s even a little line it takes fucking forever to get seated,” Choe says. “I’m hesitant to bring any more traffic, even one more new person, to this joint. But this is the fucking spot that would be my final meal on death row. It’s The Broiler at the Palace Station in Las Vegas, but it’s more specific, because don’t go into the restaurant, the Oyster Bar is right outside to the left and the food they serve is different.
“I been gambling in Vegas for 20 years and I’ve entered the strange world of high-stakes gambling for 10 years. When I entered that matrix, a whole other reality opened up to me—drugs, women, 10k suites and thousand dollar meals at places started by dudes like Jose Andres and Joel Robuchon open their legs wide to me. I ate at Jose Andres spot at Cosmo and they served appetizers on giant ceramic fists and dessert was sheets of delicious paper (I’m not making this shit up). So even with this shit available to me, there is not one trip I take to Vegas, where I don’t go to the Oyster Bar at the shitty local’s casino, Palace Station (thank god they made it 24 hours last year).
“I order an Arnold Palmer to drink, bacon-wrapped shrimp and a dozen oysters to start the best meal in the universe! Then I get the combo roast (fresh seafood, shrimp, crab and lobster schvitzed with brandy, cream and tomato) with a side of steamed rice (don’t get the noodles). You can pick the level of hotness from 1 to 10—I get a 6 (I’ve noticed I lower my hotness level as I get older, in my food and in my real life), and add okra and sausage (but sometimes the sausage is overkill) on most days depending on what time you go. Bob or JJ will be your cooks, everyone is good, but Bob is the best. Bob rules all. I’ll suck Bob’s dick. I have Bob’s number on speed dial. It is a hot, hearty, soupy mess that explodes into your stomach and you feel absolutely content and pregnant with a merman baby after eating it.
“The first time I had it, I loved it so much I ran back to my room to tell everyone I just had the best meal of my life, and they said, ‘Where? Let’s go! Take us!’ So I puked my combo roast out in the bathroom, and went back to Palace Station and had another combo roast 30 minutes later. This is also sort of an asshole move, but sometimes when I don’t want to wait, I bribe everyone in line to cut to the front. One time, I heard a guy in line telling his friend about all the bitches he fucks behind his wife’s back, while his fucking fat wife went to the fucking bathroom, so I told him I’d rat his cheating ass out if he didn’t let me cut. When she got back, she was pissed that he let me cut in front of them—dumb cunt.
“After I eat a combo roast, it’s like I just shot a huge demon spawn load onto my own stomach and it drips into my bellybutton and the hot magma melts into my belly and my soul, only to cuddle there with my stomach juices and strange sperms that I collected in my mouth from the previous night before blasting its way outside the gates of hell (aka my asshole… remember this when picking your hotness).
“Recently, I found out the owners of The Broiler also have a location in Chino one hour away from L.A. with the same menu, but Vegas is still one hour away by flight, and the food doesn’t taste the same without the stale cigarette smoke, sounds of loose slots and loose sluts and hope, fear and desperation in the air.
“As I write this in downtown L.A., my stomach is grumbling and I just booked a flight to Vegas this weekend, but I heard there’s a Kentucky Fried Chicken near USC that still has the discontinued Chicken Littles (the closest thing to a ippudo pork bun for me), but I’ve yet to make that excursion. So for now the answer to your question is, the combo roast from the Oyster Bar from The Broiler at the Palace Station.
“If you see me in line let me fucking cut!”
The Oyster Bar at Palace Station
2418 W. Sahara Blvd.
Las Vegas, NV 89102