auto, also the respected author of such food related classics as the french lottery cookbook and soul of a chef, he washed up in vegas at just the right time. vegas was always the most unlikely of dreams. the longest of long shots in the middle of the desert. a real but imaginary space that keeps expanding, creeping ever larger across the wasteland. back in the '40s, the '50s it was a small town. 100,000 became 300,000 became 500,000, then a million, then two. but it doesn't matter if it was five years ago or 50. the town has always ended like this. an abrupt cut in the desert racks on the horizon. but there are comfortable dark places, too. where a man can have a drink meet like-minded sophisticatos