Mesa Grill

Last night I returned from a weekend trip to Las Vegas. I'm exhausted. I have huge puffy circles under my eyes. My ears still ring with the jingling of slot machines. My hair smells like cigarette smoke and no matter how much I scrub, I can't seem to get the ink from the nightclub stamp off of my wrist.

The unsustainable lifestyle I lived while in Vegas was great. But the real highlight of my trip was dining at MESA Grill, Iron Chef Bobby Flay's first restaurant. Those of you who know me know that Bobby is my celebrity chef crush. I watch Throwdown on the Food Network religiously. So when we made the reservations at MESA, I was a bit worried that the experience wouldn't live up to my expectations. It exceeded them.

The restaurant, located in Caesar's Palace, was warm and colorful, with a completely unpretentious atmosphere. Our server, Joel, was friendly, attentive and eager to give us recommendations when we asked. And not only was the food beautifully presented, but it was also exquisitely prepared. The dishes were savory, sweet, spicy, crunchy, tender, fresh, flavorful and balanced. And the portions? Almost too big to finish . . . but we finished them anyway.

Here's what I ordered.
Appetizer: Smoked Chicken + Black Bean Quesadilla with avocado and toasted garlic creme fraiche. The menu doesn't tell you about the sweet and tangy sauce drizzled on top--did I taste balsamic vinegar, sweet chile and roasted red peppers?
Entree: New Mexican Spice Rubbed Pork Tenderloin with Bourbon-Ancho Chile Sauce, Sweet Potato Tamale and Crushed Pecan Butter. The pork was tender and moist without a trace of that farmy after-taste that pork sometimes has. And the spicy rub on the pork was balanced by the mild sweetness of the tamale. So delicious!
Dessert: Warm Cornbread Pudding with pear-apple compote, pear butter sauce and ginger-molasses ice cream. Need I say more?

So for anyone who's headed to Las Vegas, New York or the Bahamas (Mesa Grill's three locations), you owe it to yourself to taste Bobby's dynamic Southwestern cuisine. It may be a bit of a splurge (entrees range from 24-48 dollars) but the experience is worth every bite.

How to Make a Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich

While earning my MBA at Mills College in Oakland, I took a course called Business Communication, taught by Professors Barbara Blissert and Ileen Erickson.

One evening, the other students and I entered the classroom to find a loaf of bread, some paper plates, a jar of peanut butter and a jar of grape jelly sitting on the front table. The starving student in me thought, "Yum. I wouldn't mind having a free dinner tonight." I sat down, eyeing the food on the table in anticipation. But our professors had something entirely different planned.

Our assignment that evening was called "How to Make a Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich." Each of us had fifteen minutes to write the directions for making a basic PB&J. After our time was up, we handed our papers to a teacher's assistant. She selected a sheet at random and began following the directions written on it word for word, as if she had never made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich before.

The resulting sandwich was a mess: several slices of bread in a haphazard pile, covered with sticky grape jelly on the outside and a large scoop of un-spread peanut butter on the inside. The student had written "some bread" instead of "one slice," and she hadn't specified which sides of the bread to stick together. The demonstration, in all of its absurdity, was meant to teach us concise and explicit communication.

So for all of you PB&J-lovers out there, here is my concise and explicit recipe for the PB&J's cousin, Jasmine's Peanut Butter, Fried Banana and Honey Sandwich (trust me, it's good).

Ingredients:

• 2 slices of whole-wheat bread
  
• 2-1/2 to 3 tbsp chunky peanut butter
• 1 banana
  
• 1 tbsp honey
• a drizzle of canola oil to coat the pan
  
• a sprinkle of cayenne pepper
  

Directions:

1. Place the two slices of bread side by side on a large plate.
   
2. Spread the peanut butter onto the face of one of the slices of bread with a butter knife.
   
3. Drizzle the honey evenly onto the face of the remaining plain slice of bread.
4. Preheat the canola oil in a small frying pan on a stovetop to medium-high heat.
   
5. Peel the banana, discard the peel, then slice its flesh into even quarters, slicing once lengthwise and once across.
   
6. Place the pieces of banana into the preheated oil, long flat side down.
7. Let the banana fry for about two minutes. Using a pair of tongs, flip each piece of banana onto its long uncooked side and let it fry for another two to three minutes, until it caramelizes.
   
8. Sprinkle the cooked banana with a teensy bit of cayenne pepper for an unexpected kick.
   
9. Remove the banana pieces from the frying pan and distribute them evenly onto the peanut-buttered face of bread.
   
10. Complete the sandwich by placing the honey-covered piece of bread (honey side down) on top of the banana. Now it's ready to eat!
    

Tip: Using Your Knife as a "Scoop"

A good tip for amateur cooks like me: When you're gathering chopped veggies from the cutting board with your chef's knife, DON'T drag the cutting edge of the blade against the board--you'll dull and damage the knife. Instead, grip the handle the same way you normally do, but turn your wrist to flip the knife over and use the non-cutting edge (the spine) to scoop your food.

Thanksgiving Leftovers: NOT "Rascal-do," It's "Arroz Caldo"

The turkey we bought this Thanksgiving was much too large. It was over 26 pounds--four times the weight of my dog. Maybe this only happens when the person shopping for the turkey is an over-enthused and un-fed man. Or maybe a 26-pounder was the smallest bird available at Costco. Whatever the reason, the same question remained on Friday morning: What does a girl do with the leftovers?

My dad taught me never to waste food. So this year, like all years, I carefully removed every shred of meat. I disassembled Mr. Turkey bone by bone. Then I made two important decisions: 1) No turkey sandwiches. And 2) No American food.

My U.S.-raised Filipino boyfriend had once told me about a dish that his mom used to make called "Rascal-do." He said it was similar to a Chinese congee, or rice soup. So I ventured online looking for the perfect Rascal-do recipe that I could make with my leftover turkey. I didn't find one. In fact I didn't find any--and I was soon convinced that such a dish did not exist.

But fifteen more minutes of Googling yielded results: the dish I was looking for is actually called "Arroz Caldo," which literally translated, means "hot rice." The common ingredients in all of the recipes I found were short-grain rice, chicken, ginger and garlic. I, of course, had to use up that turkey. And my rebellious Chinese soul felt compelled to add a couple of ingredients that reminded me of the congee I ate as a kid. The resulting recipe follows.

Ingredients (I don't measure, so these are all approximate):

• turkey bones (just the big ones from a whole turkey)
• water, just enough to give the bones a nice bath (as my mom would say)
  
• 2 cups shredded turkey meat
  
• 1-1/2 cups short-grain white rice, rinsed
  
• 1 knob fresh young ginger, peeled and quartered
  
• 4 cloves of garlic, minced
• 1 bunch of scallions, chopped
• a small handful of cilantro, coarsely chopped
  
• juice from 1 lemon
  
• 1 tsp fish sauce
• salt and pepper
  

Here's what I did with those ingredients: First I made a simple turkey stock by bringing the bone-bath to a boil in a large stock pot, then turning the heat down to medium and letting it simmer for two hours. After that, I removed the fat and bones from the stock and added the uncooked rice, chunks of ginger and minced garlic. I let the mixture simmer, stirring it frequently (the rice gets stuck to the bottom of the pot if you don't) until it reached a porridge-consistency, about 45 minutes. Then I removed the ginger chunks--they were just in there for flavor--and the rest of the ingredients went into the pot with a quick stir.

My Thanksgiving turkey arroz caldo was a success. I especially liked the fragrant ginger, the bright citrus flavor of the lemon and the richness of the homemade turkey stock. It was gone before I even had a chance to take a photo of it. So maybe next year, you'll make your own version of this hearty peasant dish. And if you do, you'll have to send me your photos and tell me all about it.

But I'm Still Hungry!

Dear Michael Mina,

A couple of years ago my boyfriend took me to your restaurant at the St. Francis Westin in downtown San Francisco. We were excited because we had heard so many wonderful things about the restaurant.

All of the things we heard ended up being true. The room itself was stunning. My water glass was never empty. The 6-course meal was presented with such beautiful plates and silverware that it seemed almost a shame to use them. And the food--it looked gorgeous. I can't say enough about the presentation--the dishes were artfully designed, meticulously crafted, stacked and garnished with such attention to color and detail--we might as well have been at The-Museum-of-the-Most-Beautiful-Food-of-All-Time looking at a masterpiece.

But you know what really disappointed me? That after spending two hours and over $300 sampling tiny portions of your critically-acclaimed, museum-beautiful cuisine, I can't remember whether or not it tasted good. I don't remember feeling the satisfaction of a full tummy and a palate entertained. I only remember that after the meal was over, I felt--of all things--hungry. Hungry enough for a late-night run to Taco Bell.

I'm sure that your fans will attribute my complaints to an untrained palate and an empty wallet. And I would never say that the food at Taco Bell compares to the lovely cuisine at your San Francisco restaurant. But I firmly believe that while every meal should be beautiful and delicious, it should also satiate my hunger. After all, food is one of those rare art forms that is more than a luxury--it's a necessity. The point and purpose of eating is to fill our stomachs and nurture our bodies.

Do I really have to choose between a beautiful experience and a satisfied stomach? I guess you could say I wanted both. Or maybe I just wanted more.

Sincerely,
Jasmine

**The photo above came from Michael Bauer's "Between Meals" at http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/blogs/sfgate/category?blogid=26&cat=646&o=10

Eating Japan

I recently returned from a trip to Kobe, Japan, my mother's hometown. It was the first time I had been back to Japan in over 17 years. Of course our family reunions are always centered around big meals (whose aren't?), so we ended up eating at least five times a day.

I think it's only appropriate that I use my first blog post to show you some of the delicious cuisine--traditional and contemporary--that I sampled during my visit to Japan.

From top to bottom:
1) Okonomiyaki--a Japanese savory "pancake" filled with veggies, sauteed pork and squid. Topped with tonkatsu sauce and mayonaise.
2) Sushi--Can you believe the size of those pieces of fish? There's actually rice under there!
3) Kitsune udon and Sekihan set--delicious udon noodles in a hot bonito broth, accompanied by sticky red bean rice and pickled radish.
4) Yakitori--marinated grilled chicken skewers
5) Tonkatsu--Lightly panko-coated, deep-fried pork cutlet served with a mound of thinly sliced cabbage and miso-yuzu dressing.