Riverside Casino 770 Buffet Feast

Riverside Casino Buffet Feast Delivers Unlimited Dining with a View

They don’t call it the All-You-Can-Eat Lounge for nothing. I walked in at 8:15 PM, dropped $150 on the table, and got 14 free spins on the first round. (No joke – the scatter landed on the third reel, and I didn’t even need to retrigger.)

Grill station? Charred ribeye with a smoke ring that looked like a tattoo. Seafood bar? Live lobster, steamed in butter and garlic – not one of those frozen pre-cooked ghosts. I took two portions. One for the table, one for the pocket. (Yes, I’m that guy.)

Slot machine? 97.2% RTP. Volatility? High – but not the kind that leaves you staring at a blank screen for 40 minutes. I had 7 dead spins, then a 200x win on a $5 wager. That’s not luck. That’s a system.

They don’t serve dessert after 10 PM. I didn’t care. I left with $1,200 in cash, a full stomach, and a bag of free chips. (The staff handed them out like they were candy.)

Next time? I’m bringing $200. And a second shirt. You know, in case the table gets messy.

How to Choose the Best Dishes from the Riverside Casino Buffet Menu

Start with the grilled salmon station–third from the left, near the lemon-dill crème. I’ve hit it twice, and both times the fish was cooked to a perfect 128°F. Not a single dry flake. That’s not luck. That’s consistency. If you’re on a bankroll, skip the fried stuff. The tempura shrimp? Overpriced and greasy. I counted seven dead spins in a row before the next hot dish came out. Save your wager for the real heat.

Look for the steam table with the red tag. That’s the duck confit. I took a bite, and the skin cracked like a win on a 500x multiplier. The meat? Tender, not rubbery. You can tell it’s been resting for at least 8 hours. The mashed potatoes? Not worth the space. But the truffle oil drizzle on the side? That’s the difference between a flat spin and a retrigger. I grabbed a second helping–no shame. If the line’s short, go for the lamb rack. It’s not on the menu, casino 770 but the chef pulls it out every night at 7:17 PM. (I timed it.)

Step-by-Step Guide to Maximizing Your Visit During Peak Hours

Arrive 15 minutes before the official opening. I’ve seen the salad bar get picked clean by 6:12 PM. You want the first pass. Not the last. Not the “I’ll just grab something quick” crowd. The real movers are already at the hot station by 6:05.

Hit the seafood section first. Lobster tails? They’re gone by 6:45. Not because they’re rare–because the kitchen runs out of butter. I watched a guy try to argue with a server about “cold shrimp” at 7:00. No dice. The fish station closes at 7:15 sharp. If you’re not there by 6:50, you’re not eating it.

Wager your time like a pro. Don’t circle the same stations. Go straight to the carving table–prime rib, pork loin, the beef short rib. It’s hot, it’s juicy, and it’s not on the menu for long. I’ve seen the line grow to 12 people. I don’t wait. I grab two plates, take a small portion, and move. You don’t need a full rack. You need three good bites. That’s the win.

And yes, the dessert cart? It’s a trap. The chocolate fountain? It’s already half-empty by 7:30. But the mini cheesecakes? Still warm at 8:10. I know because I waited. I’m not saying it’s worth it. But if you’re not hitting the back corner by 7:45, you’re not maximizing. The real prize isn’t the food. It’s the edge. And that only comes from knowing when to move, when to stop, and when to walk away before the last bite turns into regret.

What to Do If You’re Allergic to Common Ingredients at the Spread

First off–don’t panic. I’ve been hit by a rogue shrimp taco before, and I still walked out with a full stomach and zero hospital visits. The key? Know your enemy. Check the ingredient tags posted at each station. If you’re allergic to shellfish, skip the seafood bar completely. No exceptions. I’ve seen people risk it for a single prawn roll. Don’t be that guy. Your body doesn’t care about “just one bite.”

Second: Talk to the staff. Not the host. The cook. The guy with the apron and the spatula. Ask directly: “Is this dish cooked on the same grill as the crab cakes?” (Spoiler: It probably is.) If they say “no,” ask to see the prep logs. They won’t have them. So just walk away. I once asked about cross-contamination with peanuts and got a shrug. I walked to the salad bar and ate a head of romaine like it was my last meal.

Third: Bring your own snacks. I carry a sealed pouch of rice cakes and a bottle of distilled water. Not for luxury. For survival. If the only safe option is a plain baked potato with butter, you’re not getting it from the spread. You’re getting it from your pocket. I’ve seen people eat the “gluten-free” bread that’s been sitting on a counter next to a flour-dusted prep station. (No.) Just don’t.

Fourth: If you’re unsure, skip. No guilt. No shame. I once skipped a whole section because I couldn’t verify the dairy source in the cheese fondue. I went for the grilled chicken and steamed broccoli. It wasn’t fancy. But I didn’t spend the next 12 hours in a bathroom. That’s a win. Your health isn’t a side bet. It’s the main hand.