Morimoto Las Vegas Re-Opens
And Vegas Uncomped Was There 24 Hours Later
Last night I ended up at Morimoto Las Vegas, exactly one day after its grand reopening. Apparently Morimoto himself was there Monday and I missed it by a hair. Whatever. I’ll survive.
The big change? The entrance.
They went full neon Tokyo alleyway, all saturated color and buzzing signage, and it spills right into a gorgeous red-and-black bar that looks like a fancy underground whiskey den. This is where the night starts.
The Bar: Where This Review Almost Became a Love Letter
We showed up early for our 8pm teppanyaki table and were greeted by a hostess in a miniskirt kimono who hit us with a warm, “How can I help?”
Not “Do you have a reservation?”
Not “Name?”
A genuine human greeting. MGM, take notes, this woman deserves a raise.
She told us to enjoy the bar and find her whenever we were ready. No pressure, no attitude. Service green flag #1.
At the bar, the first thing I noticed was the giant wall of Japanese text I still can’t read, and yes, I wish I could because it’s stunning.
The bartender strolls up and asks if we want food menus. We tell her we’re eating at the teppanyaki table later.
Her response?
“Oh, you don’t want my shitty bar food. But make damn sure you get the Philly sandwich thingy.”
Instant connection. I knew immediately: this bartender is one of my people.
We ask what cocktails she recommends.
She shrugs:
“None. They’re all too damn sweet.”
(If you don’t love her already, we can’t be friends.)
She makes us Morimoto Kōfu Old Fashioneds, which she calls the one actually good drink on the menu. I ended the night at five of them, four at the bar, one at dinner.
Stop judging me. I can feel it.
The misses ordered a Zen, swapped with Japanese vodka (Gin 🤮). Too sweet for me, but she liked it.
We closed the bar tab and told the hostess we were ready to be seated.
The Dining Room & Teppanyaki (aka: This Is Not Benihana, and Thank God)
The main dining room feels more open than before, subtle browns, seemingly glowing red fixtures, long sushi bar intact, and better visibility from the walkway. Not fully redesigned, but refreshed.
We got both the regular and teppanyaki menus, and went mostly teppan:
Miso soup (rich, silky, four big tofu cubes)
Edamame (fine, standard)
Teppanyaki Philly Cheesesteak (buy this, do not argue)
A5 Wagyu fried rice (we’ll get to this)
Shrimp fried rice
Chicken entrée
Shrimp entrée
The chef came out, polite, calm, checked allergies - again, service green flags everywhere.
If you’re expecting onion volcanoes, flying eggs, or beating-heart rice… nope.
Morimoto Teppanyaki is upscale, restrained, and focused on execution, not theatrics.
The Philly sandwich?
Absurdly good. A tiny flavor nuke on fluffy Japanese bread. Automatic reorder.
The chicken and shrimp were perfectly cooked with a teriyaki-adjacent sauce that tasted like it was made that morning.
The A5 Wagyu fried rice…
Look, it was good. But the $58 upgrade?
It melts away instantly and adds very subtle flavor. Cool to try once, wouldn’t do again.
We ended with a fifth Old Fashioned for me and no dessert. The honey toast sounded great, but I was already in bourbon heaven, and close to walking hell.
So… Is Morimoto Worth It? Here’s the Real Talk.
If you’ve followed me for five minutes, you know how I feel about TV chef restaurants, especially at Caesars, where it feels like they just Ctrl+C/Ctrl+V concepts down the hallway.
Morimoto is not that.
This is a Michelin-star chef who actually gives a shit, and it shows.
Service was flawless , warm, fun, and human.
The food?
Very good. Not life-changing.
Better than most teppanyaki in Vegas, priced like it knows it.
Our bill (with one drink each, bar drinks separate):
$334 + tip = $400+
It’s Vegas, so I expect sticker shock, but here’s the truth:
Morimoto delivered value through service, not the food alone.
Which is rare, and honestly refreshing.
Would I go back?
To the bar? Absolutely. That bartender deserves a fan club.
For the full teppanyaki dinner?
Probably not often. Not because it wasn’t good - it was, but because at this price point:
Zuma still wins.
Better execution, better flavors, better experience for the dollar.
Morimoto is a solid “glad I tried it,” not a “put it in rotation.”
Final Verdict
Go. Try it. Order the Philly. Get the Kōfu old fashioned. Thank me later.
Then tell me if you agree, or if I’m completely wrong and just drunk on five bourbon-forward cocktails.
I’m no food critic - just an honest dude who logs the real Vegas experience so you don’t get blindsided by hype.
And Morimoto, for better and worse, is exactly that: honest, polished, pricey, memorable… but not essential.
If you go, tell me what you ordered and if you’d return, I’m genuinely curious how people land on this one. I can’t speak to the sushi, it’s just not my thing!
-Jason
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