Teahouse Coffee Shop - Imperial Palace, Las Vegas. Why was I here?

Vegas is not my friend. Last time I was here, it robbed me a of a month's rent. This time, it kept me up for 24 hours straight. At 7 am, half drunk and wandering the Imperial Palace casino floor, I was the last of my tribe in sight. Not terribly hungry but needing food, I searched for the sign that would tell where to go to get some food-- Teahouse Coffee Shop. A coffee shop? An opportunity to make it mean something to be up this late... this early?

I staggered, out of exhaustion, not inebriation, to the escalator and took immense pleasure in not having to move for the ride up. I stood by the entrance for moment before I startled the hostess with my presence. Apparently my staggering was stealthy. This woman would not survive the zombie apocalypse. Despite the hour, the staff was all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I guess they hadn't been in the Mai Tai bar off the lobby since midnight.

Maybe it was just me, but I couldn't tell what they were going for decor wise. It's at the Imperial Palace, which is Asian themed (it vacillates between Chinese and Japanese) and the place is called the Teahouse Coffee Shop...there's a lot going on there. Basically what you get is a pastel-ly, strip-mall looking Japanese restaurant that doesn't serve Japanese food but rather American diner favorites.

I call this face "Uggh."



So first thing I did after sitting was order a coffee. I then inquired if they had any breakfast specials. I had just missed the cheapo Vegas-style full meal for 6.99 by 30 minutes. I ordered the Silver State Skillet. Two eggs served over a "casserole" of sausage, pork and bacon on a bed of hash browns. It sounded like such a good idea. That's a gang of pig!

First the coffee came...straight from the pit of hell. This was the hottest cup of coffee I had ever been in uncomfortable proximity to. Was it good, though? No idea! It was so hot I could barely sip it. It seemed weak though. I guess casinos don't like you to be alert.

Then the food came. Awww, a flower. That's precious.



The food sounded like a good idea. In truth, the food was fine. Nothing special, nothing to recommend. It's a Vegas casino breakfast. It put food in me and it didn't come back to haunt me.


The only disappointing thing were the "biscuits." They sucked. Get a load of the scale of these tiny dust-tasting things. Almost 3 bucks for that. I got a better return on my investment of three bucks into the video poker machine that I randomly pressed buttons on for a minute before I crapped out.

Food: Meh.
Service: Friendly.
Price: $7-20 (it's Vegas)
Pie: Nope.

3535 Las Vegas Blvd. South
Las Vegas, Nevada

UPDATE!

Imperial Palace Teahouse Coffee Shop is now a Hash House A-Go-Go.

Still not that good.


The interior is completely remolded to fit in with the Hash House A-Go-Go aesthetic.



The food is still presentation over quality. Although, I do really like their biscuits. That right there is an improvement over the previous version of the restaurant.

The Pantry is for drunks.

I can rise early in the morning if I need to. I’m long past the days of being droggy when I wake up. I know everyone else says groggy, but droggy is worse. It’s like being drugged and groggy you’re so out of it. It’s easy waking up, stumbling around looking for shoes or my first tender cigarette of the day. I don’t actually smoke but the phrase “my first tender cigarette” just popped into my head and I wanted to use it. Nobody wants to wake up earlier than they have to though.
Co-worker Erin proposed getting together for breakfast to occupy her time between yoga class and work. I think she just wanted to be featured in a Dinerwood update as she is routinely mentioned on my personal blog. This all meant getting up extra early and trekking downtown while the sun was still rising. I took a preemptive shower the night before to cut down on the wake up time. Even at 7:30am in this town traffic sucks.
Erin and I decided on The Pantry for breakfast.

I neglected to get a picture of the sign so I've swiped this from the Pantry website. I thank them for it.


The Pantry’s slogan is “Always open, always a customer”. I would add to that “that one customer is always a drunk.” The Pantry is one of those places that I think you really need to be drunk to fully enjoy. Any place that gives you a little bowl of coleslaw when you sit at the counter is clearly a place for drunks. “Free coleslaw? *hic-cup* I loves it!” [It’s like the White Horse on Western where they give out free hot dogs. Why!] Although we didn't get any this time, I can say the coleslaw at the Pantry is pretty decent.

I work on the north end of downtown where the skyscrapers and art installations dwell- The clean and shiny downtown Los Angeles. The Pantry is at the other end- The homeless and brown recluse spider bitten downtown Los Angeles. It’s been there since 1924. Okay, not THERE there, they moved to this location in 1950. You can still visit the original location every time you use the nearby freeway on-ramp. The Pantry, like any good diner, holds to an older time. Forminca table tops, sweet globe light fixtures and a bird cage cashier. Until I had been to The Pantry, I thought that only existed in Robert Altman’s Popeye. Erin recalled that when she was a kid, that space used to be a cigar stand and her father would always get a stinky cigar each time they ate there.

Erin beat me there by a few minutes. When I sat down she noted that the waiter had delivered her coffee right away without even asking if she wanted any. She did of course but that is some gumption on Mr. Waiter man's part. He was also very flirtatious with her. That elderly diner waiter was nothing but gumption. I also ordered the coffee which I can honestly describe as having a robust flavor.



Perusing the walls where the menu is detailed-that’s right no actual menus for your hands, only for your eyes. We settled on some easy breakfast fare. I got the pancakes, two eggs and potatoes. Despite all the breakfasts I’ve been eating since I started the reviews, I don’t think I have ordered pancakes once. The food arrived right away which was nice for a breakfast rush. Unfortunately, butter did not arrive until about 5 minutes later. This left my pancakes wanting with only syrup to wear. When it did arrive we were treated to those ice cold pats of Darigold brand butter spread, which doesn’t spread because they are ice cold. Erin's toast was cold and burnt so there was little a bit of butter spread could do for her.




The late Mitch Hedberg observed that pancakes always seem like a good idea, but halfway through the first one you’ve had enough. My potatoes were bland and basically room temperature. My eggs were the only decent thing about my breakfast. But you know what? If I had been drunk I wouldn't have cared. So go drunk is my advice.

They do offer apple pie as well as an assortment of cakes. One time I was there they had a peach cobbler that was delicious. That was a special so don't count on it being there.

Price: $4-$15 (our breakfasts together totalled only 11 dollars)
Food: Not good.
Service: Gumptive.
Pie: Apple.

877 S Figueroa St
Los Angeles, CA
90017-2507
Phone: (213) 972-9279