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| - Oh, Bobby Bobby Bobby.... With your cocky attitude and plastic smile, your condescending behavior to everyone, you are indeed the vision of the American white man I hate. He should be grateful he's never met me in person.
But, when going on a celebrity chef tour, you can't reject Bobby Flay. This is the greatest excuse for me to talk shit. We walked in and his books with all his smiles welcomed us. Yes, buy my books before you sit down.
The interior is nice and fiery, a visual representation of what he wants his food to be. It's all good and all, but what the hell is up with the bar being a completely different color scheme and even art style that clashes so horribly with the rest of the place? Another freshly graduated interior designer, it seems.
"MESA" is the big name you see no matter where you're sitting, in an oddly half-cut big block lettering. Nick commented "I wonder if anyone told Bobby that half his letters are missing." The logo makes no sense with the interior design either, all of which just says to me "failure".
I did not keep the receipt but I still remember a good part of the meal.
Tiger shrimp tamales, an appetizer, is an absolute must in trying Bobby's food. It is an absolute must because he always makes it. So you have to eat it, because it is his signature dish. Obviously it is his favorite, so he better do this right. And it is good. I'd hate to say it, but it's a well-made tamale. Sure not exactly Mexican, but it tastes pretty good. It had all of two shrimps. A spicy mayo sauce is gooped onto it.
A ceviche turned out to be leftover bits of grouper fish tossed in lemon juice. The fish was nice and fresh, but that ain't ceviche.
Two different fish dishes were decent, good ingredients prepared by good workers. Such a pitiful thing that Bobby does is overpower everything by drowning them in sauces. You don't really taste the meat, you taste the sauce. And Tony Bourdain was right. You can tell all too easily that the sauces came out of squeeze bottles. And before then they came out of blenders. Something... that just kills the cooking essense of cooking.
The dessert was at least very good, worth going to Bobby's for. Warm chocolate crepes with strawberries, with plenty of warm goopy sauce around it.
The best part of the meal, and I've had too many experiences like this at "fine dining" places, was the free bread that was passed around. Corn bread with actual corn chunks (to remind you that you're eating corn bread), was a bit more crumbly than I would like (it just means crumbs everywhere!!) but it did have the corn flavor goodness. With warm butter (although that made it crumblier) it was better.
I watched a steak being served to another table, and the load of peppers and sauce on top of it made me cringe. As we left the books bid us farewell.
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