COLUMN: Michael Paskevich

      Las Vegas is America's hottest restaurant market.
      Unrelenting population growth and the onslaught of new hotel-casinos have combined to spark an amazing surge in new dining establishments. The Nevada Restaurant Association estimates nearly 900 restaurants are in the Las Vegas Valley, almost doubling the city's stock of full-service eateries over the past five years.
      And, on average, a new restaurant opens every week.
      Yet for all the fresh dining options, there still are plenty of readers out there with a hankering for foodstuffs they've been unable to find in this booming market.
      Some of the requests are basic: John Marshall, recently transplanted from Texas, wonders "where to get good BBQ in the Green Valley area. ... I've tried Tony Roma's and was not impressed."
      Chong Min of Las Vegas is looking for "quality" French bread such as the kind he enjoyed at the departed Andre's Bakery, while Marjorie Hampton craves "salt rising bread" that friends pack along for her whenever they visit from Cleveland.
      Sally Lyles is in a similar situation regarding "diplomat cake," which she'd like to find in Las Vegas rather than rely on her parents to tote one along each time they drop in from Vancouver, British Columbia. The six-layer white sponge cake is frosted inside and out with rum butter cream and decorated with edible flowers on top.
      Elizabeth Sanders underlined "please" on a postcard with a picture of a "Campbell's Soup kid" on it as part of her request for a "real" fresh waffle. "I want to see the waffle iron," she wrote, and she doesn't want a crepe or a suggestion to try IHOP.
      Other requests on the table -- and you just might have the answer -- include Scot Krause's search for a place that sells pierogis, sort of a Polish ravioli stuffed with potato and cheese, and Gerry Van Cott's hunt for the best roast beef sandwich in town.
      Some people call them "Rocky Mountain oysters." Some people call them "calf fries." Either name sounds better than what they really are -- deep-fried animal testicles.
      Don and Phyliss Grounds of Las Vegas swear by them, however, and until recently, the offbeat item could be found at Flying J truck stops. However, new corporate ownership has led to a new corporate menu and the "oysters" are no more.
      With luck, fellow readers will come to the rescue on this one. Fred Muehlemann, a Flying J restaurant manager, says the dish is best served with a cheese sauce. Of course.
      And there's more: Eve Mae wants to find the kind of meatloaf she savored at the recently closed New York Deli and also would like to track down Charlie Rose, the catering manager at the defunct restaurant.
      Requests, and even a few demands, continue to pour in for the chicken soup and seasoned cottage cheese recipes used at the gone-but-not-forgotten Alpine Village Inn. "Taste" remains on the hunt, hoping that a former kitchen employee might come riding to the rescue. Keep your fingers crossed.
      Kim Wadkins of Las Vegas was among the German restaurant's big fans, dropping in regularly for birthday and holiday meals. She still has a bottle of cottage cheese seasonings she bought at the restaurant, and the scientific-minded might want to tinker with the ingredients found on the back of her purchase. Sugar, caraway seeds, minced green onions, salt, black pepper, celery salt, oregano and MSG make up the list. However, there's no breakdown on the specific amounts of each needed to create the blend. So you're on your own for now.
      Anyone who can supply the exact proportions or the chicken soup recipe will be a hero to hungry readers.
     
      Submit information to Michael Paskevich, Review-Journal, P.O. Box 70, Las Vegas, Nev. 89125-0070. You also can reach him by fax at 383-4676 or through computer e-mail at Mike_Paskevich@lvrj.com.