Stack at The Mirage has a sleek interior spiffed up with stacked wooden accent walls. Photo by Ralph Fountain.

A steak is a steak is a steak -- for the most part, anyway -- but the small shared plates at Stack; those were something I could get excited about.

Small plates are nothing new. It's an old concept, actually, an outgrowth of tapas, the "little plates" of Spain. But while I've been seeing them on restaurant menus off and on for the last couple of decades, they're finally beginning to show up with some regularity.

It's an idea that makes sense these days, especially for foodies. As Stack's menu gently hints, small plates are meant to be shared; the idea is that you order several and pass them around. For people like me who want to try every dish on almost any menu, this is a great way to expand our reach. And for those of us -- that would be most of us -- who ought to be taking in fewer calories, it gives us more flexibility than the big-entree places.

Stack, at The Mirage, is from the Light group, which also brought us Fix at Bellagio. The feeling is the same. This being, originally, a nightclub group, there's a youngish, trying-our-darnedest-to-be-trendy vibe that shows up in club-dressed young staff, offbeat decor (Stack's stacked wooden walls being evocative of Fix's undulating wooden ceiling) and a menu that has fun with food.

The fun's over when whimsy overshadows common sense -- which is to say food quality. But that doesn't happen at Stack. Here's the rundown:

Adult Tater Tots ($8): This one -- actually a side dish -- sounded so dismal we had to give it a shot, but it bore resemblance to the nasty little frozen nuggets only vaguely, and in the way of shape. The potatoes, which appeared to have been so finely shredded that they had nearly the texture of puree, had been mixed with Brie and bits of bacon, resulting in surprisingly effective flavor notes.

Crunchy tuna tacos ($14): Put all thoughts of fast-food fish tacos out of your head right now. The tortillas were crisp, yes, but these little shells tucked into the slots of a wavy server were generously filled with a superlative tuna tartare. The "mango-wasabi mojo" on the side was much more mango than wasabi and not really mojo, but that's a quibble.

Hot rocks ($14): You've seen this one before, but there was a lot of flair in its execution. Instead of one big slab plopped in the center of the table, a pile of rocks, centered by a large one engraved with the restaurant's logo, had been heated in a small bamboo steamer and the whole shebang brought to the table. We also were brought a plate of marinated, thinly sliced sirloin, which we used chopsticks to drape, one or two at a time, on the large rock to be quickly seared. The novelty factor was big, but more importantly, the lightly cooked meat had a full beefy flavor that was only enhanced by the marinade.

Japanese spicy crab ($14): Little layered cubes of nice fresh crab and rice were enlivened with Thai chili sauce.

Mini Kobe chili-cheese dogs ($15): This was one of only two dishes that we sampled that came close to teetering on the whimsy/quality edge. For one thing, the Kobe hot dog concept was reaching -- the quality of the beef becomes almost academic when it's ground and seasoned and stuffed into a casing -- and the pungently flavored chili was more suited to ... well, more suited to a chili dog, which this one, maybe because of diminutive size or maybe because of our surroundings, just didn't seem to evoke.

And the ice-cream-cone trio for dessert ($7): Clever idea -- three little cones topped with ice cream rolled in toppings in three different flavor combinations -- but I'm wondering if anyone in the kitchen actually has tried them. The cones were clearly made in-house, but because they were so delicate, they immediately fell apart when we attempted to eat the ice cream, which had clearly been rolled ahead and frozen.

Service throughout was good for the most part, although when I asked for a list of wines by the glass, the server instead asked me what I was looking for, and then brought a perfect choice -- which turned out to be $18 a glass.

And one thing irritated me: When I'd called for our reservation, I was given a detailed recitation about the dress code, which ran to "jeans only if they're dress jeans, no shorts, no sneakers" and I forget what else. Though I'm not in the habit of wearing shorts to any meal besides -- maybe -- breakfast, we made certain we complied.

Why, then, when a party of four was shown to the table next to us, were both of the men -- and we're talking grandfather material here -- wearing shorts, and one sneakers with his shorts?

What's up with that?

Las Vegas Review-Journal reviews are done anonymously at Review-Journal expense. Contact Heidi Knapp Rinella at 383-0474 or e-mail her at hrinella@ reviewjournal.com.