Friday, March 19, 2004 Copyright © Las Vegas Review-Journal

RESTAURANT REVIEW: Heidi Knapp Rinella

Firefly on Paradise had timing down to an art and a wide variety of tasty tapas

Firefly on Paradise is a simply decorated, intimate space. Photo by SAMANTHA CLEMENS/REVIEW-JOURNAL

So, OK, of all things to wonder...

But as I sat at our table at Firefly on Paradise, preparing to order a meal of tapas dishes, I found myself preoccupied with whether they'd really be able to time this right.

We were ordering eight tapas dishes -- a fairly standard number for two people, especially two who, because of the assignment at hand, wanted to taste as much of the menu as possible.

But you know how it goes; some restaurants seem to have a heck of a time timing courses. Go to a place where appetizers aren't generally part of the program, or linger a little too long over the salad course in others, and you'll find a runner sticking dishes under your elbows before you've had time to push away the croutons. If the server is paying attention, he or she will delay the entree order to the kitchen just a bit to avoid the stacking of courses, but too many not-so-good servers are more concerned with turning tables than paying attention.

Timing wasn't a problem for the original tapas joints. Those were (and still are) bars in Spain, who developed a tradition of serving little dishes of regional foods along with sherry, other wine or beer. The very first tapas probably were slices of Serrano ham; the word derives from the Spanish tapar, to cover, and the pieces of ham, legend tells us, were used to cover the glasses to keep the flies out. (Aren't you glad you asked?) The tapas would sort of appear on the bar from time to time, free of charge. Think of it as the original happy hour. Only with better food.

The variety of tapas was endless and often depended on the creativity and relative generosity of the barkeep as much as anything else. They ranged from maybe a handful of almonds to truly complex little dishes, many of them involving Spain's much-heralded (and deservedly so) sherry.

Tapas have been slow to catch on in this country, which I don't really understand, considering that they give the customer the ultimate in flexibility (Not hungry? Order one or two. Hungry? Go for three or four.) and variety (How many times have you debated between several dishes on a menu?). But the best stateside tapas spots have, in fine American tradition, taken the traditional dishes and adapted and added those of other cultures to create a variety that truly invites mixing and matching.

The routine at Firefly on Paradise -- as at other American tapas spots -- is simple: You choose however many dishes you would like (priced at $3 to $10 each), either keeping them to yourself or, as we did, sharing with your tablemates. Firefly has the good sense to mix things up, and so we decided to follow suit.

On the traditional side:

• Tortilla a la Española ($4), which is among the quintessential tapas. The Spanish tortilla is, unlike the Mexican tortilla, akin to an egg-and-potato omelet. This one was thick, hearty and cut into tall square shapes. Even with a generous amount of onion this can be a bland dish, so we were pleased that this version was enlivened with a chili-pepper vinaigrette.

• Manchego cheese and Serrano ham croquetas ($5) were wonderfully crusty on the exterior and fluffy inside. The two principal ingredients provided a considerable flavor punch on their own and were blanketed by a spicy bit of creaminess. Deftly rendered, these were among the best of the bunch.

• Albondigas ($4) were moist, lightly seasoned meatballs with a hint of sherry.

• Roast pork and red pepper filled the flaky empanadas ($7), with aioli as a lightly garlicked counterpoint in both flavor and texture.

• Baked stuffed clams ($7) were cherrystones in their tiny, tender glory, prepared simply with green pepper, parsley and a sprinkling of breadcrumbs.

On the not-so-traditional side:

• The Garden Variety Salad ($4) was a big ol' heap of greens dressed up with blue cheese, apple, blue cheese and a sherry vinaigrette.

• Firefly fries ($4) was a bigger heap, sprinkled with herbs and Parmesan cheese and served with aioli. As fries go, they were miles better than most.

• Steak toasts ($6) were moist piles of minced meat mixed with olives and a sun-dried tomato aioli, served atop crisp rafts of toast.

We had dessert tapas, too -- a Sangria-poached pear with vanilla ice cream ($4) that was about as classic as they come, and a Nutella-and-banana sandwich ($4) that was way, way better than it sounds, the hazelnut being the predominant flavor.

And we couldn't bypass the housemade Sangria ($18 for a pitcher, $4 for a glass). It was sweet but not overly so, well-infused with a variety of fruits that included tart green apples and served in a pretty glass pitcher whose level never seemed to drop.

But wait! There's more! Served with our dinner was an appetizer platter of Italian salami, garlic bread, olives, almonds and an almond-flecked composed butter.

Lots of food -- and yes, the timing was perfect. Lots of flavors, lots of textures. Lots to like at Firefly on Paradise.

Las Vegas Review-Journal restaurant reviews are unannounced and done anonymously at Review-Journal expense.