#CookTeaseThanksgiving

Normally, I am crap at cooking big fancy dinners. In theory, I love to do it, but really what I like is the impressing-the-hell-out-of-people part and not so much the actual execution of it. This year, however, I made the same Thanksgiving meal for the third year in a row and, I must admit, it went swimmingly. I actually planned ahead, cooked things in advance, and stuck to a schedule. Yes, I forgot to make the cornbread until the last possible second, but otherwise I count this year's Thanksgiving a tremendous success.

I tweeted the steps as I completed them, which was fun for me, if not necessarily for everyone who had to read my incessant, smug tweets. It kept me focused and entertained. I had every intention of writing a for-reals blog post about the meal, but the tweets were pretty sufficient, I thought. Hence, I'm going to plead lazy and overworked, and I'm just going to post them below with pictorial accompaniment. Naysayers, this is all I can muster up right now, so tell yourself it's better than nothing.

Oh, and by the way, my entire menu comes from the greatest Gourmet menu of all time. You can get all the recipes (and see the shit I was too lazy to make) at Epicurious.com.

1/50: Groceries purchased, sorted, and minimally prepped.

2/50: 10 poblanos have been roasted, peeled, seeded, and made into rajas.

3/50: rum and nutmeg custard base for ice cream.

4/50: Chiles guajillo, ancho, New Mexico, chipotle, and de arbol toasted and soaking in boiling water.

5/50: Adobo red chile rub for turkey pureed and in the fridge.

6/50: Onions caramelized and joining yesterday's poblano strips in the rajas bin.



7-10/50: Dishes washed, dried, put away; plastic containers for leftovers washed, dried, and stacked.

11-12/50: roasted pineapple and onion for cranberry salsa; made salsa.

13-14/50: Roasted squash; mixed with coconut milk and brown sugar; pureed.

15-16/50: Rum ice cream frozen; cornbread for stuffing baked.

17/50: Turkey rubbed with red chile adobo; marinates for 24 hrs.

18-21/50: Potatoes peeled, sliced, and fashioned into gratin strewn w/ poblano and onion rajas; gratin baked.

22-24/50: Cooked veggies, chorizo for stuffing; browned giblets, neck; simmering w/ veg and broth for turkey stock.

25-29/50: Toasted cornbread; baked stuffing; made piloncillo syrup; prepared apples/syrup, poured into pie shell.

30/50: Took break to make pumpkin-butter filled pancakes for my family. Haven't fed them properly in three days.

31-33/50: Apple-pilocillo pie baked; pomegranate, mango ready for guac; scraped caramel from pie off bottom of oven.

34/50: Made emergency pumpkin pie. Well, actually, my 5-year-old made it. Read the recipe and everything. LOVE him.

35/50: Pomegranate-mango guacamole done.

36-40/50: Dishes.

41/50: Round of Pomegranate Kir Royales made, toasted, and working its way into our bellies. Ahhhh.

42/50: Green beans blanched and sauteed w/ lemon, garlic, thyme.

43-47/50: Red-chile roux made; gravy simmering; sides reheated; turkey resting.

48/50: Emergency #2--gratin is still cold, but everything else is ready. Fail. Jack up oven temp to 450.

49/50: Turkey sliced. Possibly by beavers, from the looks of it. 

50/50: And...done. Everything superb. Standouts: poblano gratin, cran-pineapple salsa, mango-pom guac, caramel apple pie.

Saturday Review: Red Mesa

St. Pete-ians and Tampons alike looooooove their Red Mesa, the quasi-Mexican, quasi-fine dining restaurant nestled idiosyncratically between Applebees and Word of Beer on 4th Street. Critics and locals have showered praise on this place since it opened in 1996. My personal experiences with Red Mesa have been uneven, to say the least. The first three times I ate there, I was like, "meh." It was years before I returned--and only then because some friends made me.

Don't get me wrong--this IS going to turn into a positive review, and I've had some FAB food at Mesa. There was the Famous Fruit Mole of '02, which I still describe to my friends through tears of lingering ecstasy. I persist in lamenting (1) the loss of the Grilled Pork Chop Stuffed with Goat Cheese/Apple/Walnut in OMFG-That's-Good smoky tomato broth. The specials menu reliably taunts me with huitlacoche quesadillas (2), guacamole trios, and inventive ceviches. Shrimp and feta queso fundido is swoon-worthy.

Overall, though, Mesa--much like Nicole Kidman--does not live up to its rep. Anything that sounds like something on a typical Mexican restaurant menu (cheese enchiladas, chile rellenos, skirt steak tacos) proves simple and bland. The rice and black bean "congri" that accompanies damn near everything on the menu is just lame. Chunks of dry, fatty pork float in a greasy, bland chili verde sauce in one of the most popular (!) dishes, and chipotle shrimp are too spicy and flavorless (quite a feat) to do any justice to Mesa's customary prowess with the smoky (3) chiles.

If you work for Red Mesa and are reading this, I swear to you that The Praise Begins Now.

Where Mesa really shines is at Sunday brunch. Typically a restaurant's throw away service, brunch here plays to the kitchen's strengths--every egg dish is accompanied by two or three of those genius salsas, with varying heat levels, textures, and flavor profiles, and there are enough choices on the menu to satisfy the hungover hipsters, their discerning children, and the wealthy oldsters who cram into the booths and freeze their asses off. (4)

Typically, I waffle between the Migas (fluffy eggs scrambled around strips of crunchy poblano peppers, caramelized onions, and crisp tortillas, served with a brothy, smoky salsa and so-so refried beans) and the Shrimp and Grits--different from anything you'll find in South Carolina's Low Country, but the best I've ever had. This morning, I chose the latter, and they arrived pitch-perfect, as usual: plump, unbelievably sweet shrimp doused in a creamy chipotle sauce with more of those poblano and onion rajas, soaking into a volcano of velvety grits. They thoughtfully sprinkle on some sliced scallions, adding crunch and verve, and a shredded aged cheese of such deliciousness that I can hardly stop salivating long enough to describe it. (5)

Other winning dishes: chilaquiles roja, which confirms my suspicion that Red Mesa should just soak shit in salsa and bringitrightheretomytableNOW, huevos rancheros (more sophisticated than usual and all the better for it), and guava-stuffed French toast. Also, their fruit salad is dressed with a lime syrup that's even yummier because it cancels out any potential fruit-related health benefits. Burritos are more filling than they look. Potato-chorizo hash sounds better than it is (which kills me, because potatoes + chorizo = my happy place). Coffee is strong and delicious, and their kids' menu is brief (a good thing), healthy, and reasonably priced--and it's not patronizing: the tots get the same spicy sausage as their taller dining companions.

Did I mention that it's ridiculously cheap? On a Friday night, our bill for 2 has never been less than $60; after a brunch-for-three so big we're on hammocks for the better part of the afternoon, the receipt freaks me out with its $24 bottom line.

Service is always spot on at Red Mesa, even at brunch when servers at lesser establishments are often hungover and angry about having to be perky at 9 am while a bunch of noisy kids grind strawberries into the carpet.

If you've been disappointed with Red Mesa in the past (I'm looking at you, Lemdrichs), try again on a Sunday. If you've never been, start with brunch...and maybe end there, too. For dinner, I'd recommend gettin' yer fancy shoes on, hiring a babysitter, and braving the scene at their hipper downtown spot, Red Mesa Cantina. Their drinks are strong, their tacos are cheap, and the crowd will make it easy to pretend you're still cool.

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What, you don't like footnotes? Too bad--I'm an academic. Suck it.

(1) Along with the server who has an uncanny knack for getting our table every single time. Which reminds me: a testament to Red Mesa's Doing Something Right is the insane degree of server loyalty. There are about five servers whom I see every time we go in there, be it a Friday night, a Wednesday lunch, or a Sunday morning. They've been there ten years, at least. That's unheard of in this fickle town.


(2) Holy crap, these were good. WHY ARE WE NOT EATING MORE CORN FUNGUS, AMERICA??

(3) How many times am I going to use the word "smoky" in this post? Only 3. But I should use it more, because Red Mesa's smoky is the most epic and craveable smoky in town. (Oh, look--that's 5. Boo-yah.)

(4) I'm serious: bring a sweater.

(5) Come to think of it, next to salsas, cheese may be Red Mesa's biggest win. There must be 7 or 8 "garnish" cheeses in that kitchen, and they shred/grate/crumble/melt each one onto its ideal partner EVERY SINGLE TIME. Even on the humblest of Mesa plates, I've never been disappointed by the cheese.