Mix

When renowned French chef Alain Ducasse chose to open his first Las Vegas restaurant, he did it in high style, crowning a deluxe new Mandalay Bay tower called THEhotel. To execute his vision, he hired compatriot Bruno Davaillon, a chef raised in France's Loire Valley who shares his produce-driven approach. Since opening in late 2004, Mix has earned a well-deserved reputation for globally informed French cuisine, Patrick Jouin's stunning design, and spectacular views of the Strip.

Unlike most restaurants in town, which are attached to either a casino or shopping mall, Mix features a private entrance. Take the glass-fronted elevator to THEhotel's 64th floor, enjoying unparalleled 180-degree views of the Green Valley below. Exit the elevator and enter a sumptuous black lounge that emanates from a central oval bar. The massive molded core of the bar is designed to look like red coral. On the ceiling above the "coral" is a fiber optic field that shimmers like the night sky. The lounge contains wavy back-to-back black leather benches, separated by a strip of red light, plus white tables, black leather stools and floor-to-ceiling glass walls. Outside, there's a deck with brown banquettes and white tables. Whether you sit inside or out, expect more stunning Strip views.

Walk past the open kitchen to the pristine dining room, all white, including the tablecloths, walls and futuristic pod-shaped booths. A 15,000-piece "champagne bubble" chandelier drapes from the ceiling. Lining the north wall are wood poles designed to resemble a bamboo forest. Strangely, the poles aren't bamboo, but they're still attractive. Up white stairs is a private dining room with tables for large parties, lit by pod-shaped silver lamps that offer unobstructed views of fashionable diners below. A two-story wine rack forms the south wall. Along the east wall is an outdoor patio, great on a rare cool evening. Two-story glass walls flank the dining room, to maximize those views. The only flash of color: red glasses. Each table holds a pad of Mix stationary with a pencil, to write about your meal or to pass notes to tablemates.

During the week, the crowd primarily consists of businesspeople and serious local diners. Weekends are higher volume thanks to an influx of flashy high-rollers from Los Angeles. According to our waiter, "They're not diners, they eat salads."

A complimentary basket of house-baked breads was stocked with two slices of fluffy country bread, a pull-apart spiral shaped roll, a slice of focaccia studded with green onion, a single triangular ciabatta, a round anise roll and an oblong wheat roll. Hidden below the surface was yet another prize, a walnut-golden raisin bun.  There was a dish with two pats of butter, one traditional, the other folded with finely crushed peanuts.

For my appetizer, I ordered a sophisticated Shrimp Cocktail. An oblong white bowl held a horseradish custard base, a cluster of mixed greens, candied lemon zest and a thin-shaved candied lemon slice. The greens were lined with six shelled jumbo shrimp and ringed with a pour of bright red tomato syrup, which was more concentrated and silkier than standard tomato sauce. The dish was well constructed, with the sweetness of the firm shrimp balancing the bite of the creamy horseradish custard.

With my appetizer, I drank a glass of 2003 Gradisca D'Isonzo, a crisp Pinot Grigio from the Venezia Giulia wine-growing region of Italy. The dry wine played well against the richness of the custard.

My dining companion started with the Dungeness Crab Martini, from the list of Alain Ducasse Classics that Chef Ducasse developed at his establishments in Paris and Monte Carlo. A martini glass cradled creamy cauliflower puree layered with nuggets of lump crab claw meat. The glass was then crowned with orange foam that was listed as a "warm spicy emulsion."

For my entrée, I ordered Roasted Duck Breast, another Alain Ducasse Classic. The exceptional boneless fowl was cooked medium rare. The crispy skin soaked up the drizzle of dolce forte, a burgundy sweet-tart sauce centering on vinegar and sugar. The duck was plated with a candy-sweet roasted black Mission fig and a tender four-inch slab of braised daikon that was topped with bitter white baby turnips and two micro-thin radish shavings.

My dining companion opted for Roasted Maine Lobster "Au Curry." Market-fresh claw and tail meat was plucked from the shell of a Maine lobster, set on a bed of coconut-soaked basmati rice and drizzled with a subtly-spicy burnt orange curry. A sprinkling of golden raisins, shaved almonds and oven-roasted baby coconut discs supplied sweet notes.

For dessert, I ordered yet another Alain Ducasse Classic, the Mix Candy Bar, actually a duo of bars presented on a rectangular white plate. On my left was a caramel hazelnut bar, with pistachios and halved hazelnuts peeking out of the dark chocolate coating. Inside were layers of hazelnut mousse, chocolate mousse and nougat. A central oval of tangy coconut lime sorbet was anchored to the plate with crispy almond crumble. On my right: a milk chocolate-sheathed peanut butter mousse bar was studded with peanuts and topped with a single sliver of coconut. Both bars were accented with edible gold leaf and deserving of counter space at a top chocolate shop.

My dining companion selected the Chocolate Dome. The dark brown half-moon was decorated with a starfield of gold leaf. The rich half-orb held a surprise crème brûlée center. The dessert was plated with an oval of intensely flavored passion fruit sorbet, surrounded by sweet diced mango.

Just before our waiter brought our check, he presented us a white goblet of hot Nutella and a tray of just-baked Madeleines. We each plucked a Madeleine from the tray and drizzled on some Nutella with a spoon. The warm Madeleine with chocolate hazelnut sauce was a simple but terrific conclusion to our meal.

For all of Mix's style, the menu was surprisingly modest. Thankfully, simple-sounding dishes were much more advanced in both presentation and flavor. The ingredients were clearly of-the-moment, and those views—spectacular.