Mon Ami Gabi Las Vegas: A French Girl Fantasy with a Vegas Zip Code
Katherine: I ironed my outfit for this. With heat. Like a pioneer.
Kelsi: I shaved above the knee. You’re welcome, Mon Ami Gabi.
Vegas, 9 AM. The air smelled like croissants, Chanel No. 5, and a fresh start.
It was giving “summer in the South of France,” except we were surrounded by slot machines and hungover Elvis impersonators. Still magical.
It was a chef’s kiss kind of morning in Las Vegas: not a cloud in the sky, the Strip shimmering with the kind of chaotic energy only Vegas can serve, and two best friends dressed like the opening credits of a Nancy Meyers film.
Brunching Like Parisian Queens (Minus the Jet Lag)
We waltzed into Mon Ami Gabi, the iconic French bistro nestled at the base of the Eiffel Tower at Paris Las Vegas, and immediately requested patio seating — because this is Vegas, and we are the main characters.
The patio? Peak main-character energy.
You know that scene in every Paris-set movie where the lead writes in a journal, sips espresso, and stares dramatically into the distance?
Yeah, that. But with hash browns.
Coffee, Cocktails & Choices We Absolutely Don’t Regret
Katherine: My bloodstream needs to look like a bar cart and a coffee shop had a baby…STAT.
Kelsi: This martini is my multivitamin for today. Cheers.
We kicked things off with Robert’s Espresso Martini, a dangerously smooth blend of Stoli vanilla vodka, Baileys, Kahlúa, and real espresso.
It was rich, frothy, and just bitter enough to remind us we were still alive.
One sip in, and our posture improved.
Two sips in, and we started speaking in affirmations. (I am chic. I am hydrated. I am legally brunching.)
Naturally, we followed it up with peach bellini mimosas, because what is brunch without bubbles and unearned confidence?
The server presented a tray of sparkling brut and purée choices like a brunch sommelier sent from heaven (or Instagram).
We went peach, but you could choose raspberry, mango, or strawberry — each one tasting like it was blended by a fairy godmother who just wants you to live your best patio life.
Light, fizzy, and borderline flirty, these mimosas didn’t just pair with the meal — they set the tone for the entire day.
By the time the second round hit the table, we were Googling “how to become a woman of leisure” and considering dual citizenship.
The Food That Ruined All Other Brunches
Kelsi: I didn’t choose the waffle life. The waffle life chose me.
Katherine: I didn’t cry, but I did clutch my chest and whisper “wow” …in slow motion….like I was in a perfume ad.
Let’s talk about the menu. Picture your most indulgent brunch dreams wrapped in Parisian flair and served on a bistro plate that begs to be Instagrammed. We ordered:
Jumbo Lump Crab Cake Benedict: Served with hollandaise and zero mercy, this dish does not come to play. The crab was luxuriously tender — the kind of fresh that makes you question if you’ve ever actually had real crab before.
Mixed Berry Waffle: This was not a waffle. This was a love letter written in batter and berries. Light and fluffy on the inside with just the right amount of crisp on the edge. The whipped cream? Silky, towering, and so unapologetically thick it could double as a skincare product.
Crispy Date-Glazed Bacon: Listen, we didn’t plan to order a side of bacon. But then the words “date-glazed” jumped off the menu like a seductive little meat siren, and suddenly we were two women on a mission.
What arrived was a glossy, caramelized dream — thick-cut, perfectly crispy, and kissed with just enough sweetness to make it feel fancy. It was the bacon equivalent of wearing silk pajamas to breakfast. We tried to “just have one piece.” We failed. Repeatedly.
Mid-Brunch Existential Crisis (In the Best Way)
You know that feeling when you’re sipping a mimosa, warm sun on your shoulders, laughing so hard you snort, and you suddenly realize—this is the exact moment you’ve been daydreaming about from your office cubicle or your third back-to-back PTA meeting?
That rare feeling of being completely full—in your stomach and your soul—at the same time.
Yeah. That was this.
The kind of morning where time slows down just long enough to notice the way the light hits your glass, the buttery flake of your toast, the way your friend’s laugh sounds when she’s actually relaxed for once.
Where you’re not refreshing your inbox, not mentally running through a to-do list—you’re just here, fully in it, savoring your food, your company, and your own permission to do absolutely nothing productive.
Kelsi: If I close my eyes, I’m in Paris.
Katherine: If I keep them open, I’m still in Vegas… but like, fancy Vegas.
It was the kind of morning where you forget to be responsible and remember how to just be. We were just two women, a pile of carbs, and the audacity to enjoy ourselves unapologetically.
Need-to-Know Info for Your Own Mon Ami Moment:
📍 Location:
Mon Ami Gabi, Paris Las Vegas
3655 S Las Vegas Blvd, Las Vegas, NV 89109
🚗 Parking:
Valet parking at Paris Hotel or self-park in the adjacent garage. Just remember where you parked — mimosas don’t come with GPS.
🕗 Best Time to Go:
Weekday mornings or early weekends. Arrive before 10 AM for the best patio seat and minimal wait.
🥂 Can’t-Miss Menu Items:
- Robert’s Espresso Martini
- Jumbo Lump Crab Cake Benedict
- Mixed Berry Waffle
- Nutella Waffle (aka the brunch equivalent of a love letter)
- Cappuccino or Café Latte for the main character energy
👗 What to Wear:
Channel “Emily in Vegas” energy — flowy dresses, oversized sunnies, and zero shame.
📸 FOMO Factor:
High. Extremely high. Eiffel Tower views + French vibes + stunning food = your Instagram feed will thank you.
Final Thoughts: Should You Brunch Here?
Kelsi: I don’t remember the last time I was this happy before noon.
Katherine: Yes. Brunch here. Thank us later.
Mon Ami Gabi is the kind of place that reminds you brunch is not just an excuse to day drink before noon (though, let’s be honest, it’s a solid perk).
It’s a full-sensory experience: the Eiffel Tower twinkling above you, warm sun spilling across your table, and a server placing a waffle in front of you like it’s an offering to the brunch gods.
It’s for the girlies who want their eggs with a side of escapism.
For the moms who need a moment.
For the best friends who show up in sunglasses and sarcasm and end up staying two hours longer than they meant to.
And yes, for the hopeless romantics sneaking in a brunch date that feels like a mini-moon in the middle of the Strip.
This isn’t just brunch—it’s a French love letter disguised as a meal, sealed with a mimosa.
And if you’re lucky enough to land a patio seat on a perfect Vegas morning, you’ll understand exactly what we mean.
