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Final Cut creates a grand illusion—at the expense of the food
Cold Water Lobster, Veal Chop and Housemade Ravioli
Tessa Berg Photo
At the blackjack table, the dealer mistakenly starts paying out when he reaches 16. The pit boss—keenly aware that dealers take hits until 17—swoops in and whispers in the dealer’s ear; the dealer proceeds to collect back the chips and draws another card as he explains his error. He busts. He pays everyone out, after all.
I share this story from my first visit to Hollywood Casino Columbus because it struck me that this place is a Vegas-style gambling palace staffed by people who’ve never worked in Vegas. Similarly, its showpiece restaurant, Final Cut, feels like a high-end steakhouse staffed by people who don’t quite have the hang of it yet.
Does it matter that Final Cut feels amateurish? I’d wager no. No one comes to the casino just to eat at Final Cut. They eat here because they’re at the casino.
Let’s say someone comes away from the blackjack table a hundred bucks richer. They think, let’s skip the buffet and splurge on a nice steak. Why not blow $56 on a filet? Why not order dessert?
Casinos are all about creating an illusion, about making their customers believe, if only for one night, that they’re high-rollers. In reality, casinos are concerned with money, not with food.
Every Hollywood Casino has a similar steakhouse, many named Final Cut; the allusion to film carries over in the glam art-deco decor and displays of vintage movie costumes. The Columbus iteration does have its own distinct menu, created by chef Eric Jones, formerly executive sous chef at Cameron’s American Bistro.
A hallmark of the kind of service you’re paying for during a nice dinner out is a water glass that’s never less than half full. And water was the first piece of evidence pointing to a restaurant that focuses too heavily on appearances over good service.
Our water attendant made a big show of offering us a choice of three varieties (sparkling, still or tap), used a towel to open our bottle of still water tableside, filled our glasses to about a quarter full, and carefully arranged slices of lemons and limes on a small saucer.
She never came back; we finally had to ask for more water with dessert.
Things didn’t improve with the soup course. French onion soup is one of those indulgent dishes that’s great to order at a restaurant because it’s much too fussy to prepare at home. At its best, it’s a crock of caramelized onions and giant croutons in steaming beef broth, hiding below a thick layer of bubbling broiled gruyere.
Here, though, the traditional shallow and wide crock is replaced with a deep bowl; inside, a few salad croutons bob in a too-salty broth. There is no evidence of actual onion, and—worst of all—the soup is topped with a skimpy pile of shredded cheese that’s not even melted.
But this is a steakhouse, after all, and a nice, juicy steak could go far in forgiving a lackluster bowl of soup. Sadly, the steaks here have problems that similarly indicate a lack of understanding of the basic chemistry that makes food taste good.
It’s hard to mess up a steak, really. Season it liberally with a simple mix of kosher salt and ground black pepper, quickly sear at super-high heat and finish off with a little butter. You’ve got to start with a nice cut of meat, but there’s no secret trick to cooking a crusty-on-the-outside, buttery-on-the-inside steak.
We chose the bone-in ribeye ($49), a nice piece of meat that was cooked to a perfect medium-rare pink. But it lacked a charred crust and, because it wasn’t properly salt-and-peppered, it tasted one-dimensional and bland.
One of the six traditional steak sauces on the menu would’ve helped add flavor, but we forgot to specify which we wanted and our server didn’t think to whisk out a cup of Hollywood steak sauce (a typical peppery Worcestershire variety) until halfway through the meal. Oddly, a veal chop ordered the same night was properly seasoned—no sauce required.
Dish after dish—plump sea scallops, giant lobster tails, creamy truffle mac and cheese—looked impressive on delivery but fell flat at first bite.
Worst were the desserts. Nearly every menu incorporates the same old creme brulee, cheesecake and tiramisu because they’re fail-proof crowd-pleasers. Here, for no discernable reason, they’re tweaked with bizarre add-ons. The chocolate lava cake ($8) is baked with lavender—it’s an uncommon flavor combination to begin with, and the lavender overpowers the chocolate, infusing it with a cloying, floral aroma. If that wasn’t bad enough, it’s paired with the tropical, fruity flavors of mango ice cream and blood orange sauce.
Final Cut does do some things right. The bread basket, often an afterthought, became something I looked forward to each visit—creamy, salty Amish butter served with house-made jalapeno cheddar rolls and mini brioches.
My best experience was ordering a big spread of nearly every appetizer on the menu. Especially great were meaty crab cakes ($15) served on a buttery corn relish, and some lightly seared, ruby-hued slices of ahi tuna ($17) fanned out over a tangle of marinated cucumber sliced into long threads, accompanied by a trio of sushi-inspired sauces (wasabi mayo, soy vinaigrette and pickled ginger). Still, we were in a steakhouse, and the appetizers were overshadowing the steaks.
Penn National puts Final Cuts in their casinos for a good reason: They want people to spend the money they just won by splurging on a steak. My advice is to take your winnings and head to the car, and drive straight to The Top Steak House, where 50 bucks will buy you a properly charbroiled ribeye. n
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RESTAURANT REVIEW
Final Cut at Hollywood Casino Columbus
200 Georgesville Rd., West Side 614-308-4540 hollywoodcolumbus.com Hours: 5-10 p.m. Sun-Thu, 5 p.m.-12 a.m. Fri-Sat Price range: $70-$80 per person, with entrees ranging from a $24 chicken dish to a $56 filet Reservations: Recommended on the weekends In short: About what you’d expect at a restaurant inside a casino. Rating: ★ ★ |
RATING SYSTEM
★ ★ ★ ★ ★: outstanding |
