By Lauren Drewes Daniels
By Alice Laussade
By City of Ate
By Scott Reitz
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
By Alice Laussade
The Plano version has a 45-foot-tall slatted rectangular tower that barks the Blue Mesa moniker across the barren north Plano plain. The outside wall is painted bright red. Blue Mesa co-owner Liz Baron says they wanted this new Blue Mesa to be a stark departure visually from the existing Blue Mesa restaurants. And there was a lot of wiggle room for dramatic departing, as this restaurant is the first freestanding, non-strip-mall Blue Mesa installation. "We wanted the new restaurant to be a little more modern and a little less Southwestern," says Baron, who earned a fine-arts degree in design from New York's Pratt Institute. "We've always been against having a themed look."
There is little Southwestern themery in this restaurant save for the frozen-margarita machines in the bar. Its terrazzo floors give way to black plastic chairs, walls tiled in blond woods, pale yellows, cool greens and blues and rippled wavy soffets. It even has a grove of shorn, varnished trees that look as though they're growing out of the floor. This is the design element that separates the dining room from the open kitchen.
7700 W. NW Highway, Ste. 740
Dallas, TX 75225
Region: Park Cities
8200 Dallas Parkway
Plano, TX 75024
14866 Montfort Dr.
Dallas, TX 75254
Region: North Dallas
1600 S. University Drive #609, #609
Fort Worth, TX 76107
Region: Fort Worth
Spinach queso: $3.95
Tortilla soup (cup): $3
Mesa sampler: $8.95
Spa chicken enchiladas: $8.50
Spa fish $11.95
Red-chili-crusted salmon: $12.95
Mixed-grill churrascaritas: $13.95
Santa Fe honey flan: $3.50
Cinnamon apple crisp: $5.25
That open kitchen produces what Jim Baron calls Blue Mesa's trademark flavor profile. It's couched on bold flavors, he says. Yet despite its New Mexican and Arizonian roots, it's a profile that doesn't promiscuously blast with heat. "We don't mean bold in the sense that you walk into a Mexican restaurant and get a burn," he says.
This strain of temerity shows up in numerous places on the Blue Mesa menu. Feathery light quesadillas are given basil breath instead of heat, creating a Southwestern appetizer that sings with a pesto tremolo.
Blue Mesa's black beans, hearty and more sophisticated than their swarthy counterparts, are rich in smoke with broad undertones driven by the sugar and sherry cooked into them. Nachos hold up well under the weight of these beans, which add a little smoke to the cheese and dry chicken they share space with on the chip. Chicken taquitos are good, too, with an outer sheath huddled around a moist interior. These taquitos deliver without sweating a profusion of grease.
Spinach queso, flecked with tomato, also had threads of smoke. And unlike the pale yellow slurry traditionally served with corn chips or drooled over nachos, this queso is thick and stiff. It grips with a jalapeño bite that's potent enough to announce its presence, but not so overwhelming that you're driven to guzzle from every water glass at your table.
Not that Blue Mesa shuns heat. The jalapeño relish that dolls up several of the entrées is like a culinary arc welder. Other dishes succeed without resorting to heat. The tortilla soup, crowded with tortilla strips, has a clean chicken broth jolted with lime.
But there are also dishes where boldness, in any form, is largely absent. Spa fish of the day (purported to slough off just 321 calories and 7 grams of fat no matter what the species) was a sheet of dense, flaky mahi mahi that had nothing but clean juicy fish flavors.
The healthful drive collapsed a bit with the spa chicken and spinach enchiladas (444 calories and 11 grams of fat). The corn tortillas were soggy, drenched as they were in a brisk tomatillo sauce, and the chicken was sparse, perhaps a function of the menu's caloric regulations.
One dish that reached exquisite balance between natural richness and bold flavorings was the red-chili-crusted salmon, a piece of pan-seared fish with a mild chili, cumin and garlic crust in a lime-butter sauce. The salmon, topped with chopped tomato and onion, was moist and slightly sweet, though a side of rice was oiled to a disagreeable extent.
Jim Baron, a former clinical psychologist, says that Blue Mesa's grilled meats slough off bold flavors not so much because of the ingredients they use, but because of how they are prepared. Beef and chicken undergo a vacuum marinating process via a food-service device called a tumbler. Meat purveyors generally use these utensils to draw moisture into meats, fattening them up for weighing. Blue Mesa uses this process to drive marinade flavors deep into the flesh. "It forces the flavor into the center of the meat," he says. The meats are then "flash grilled" for two to three minutes.
Results are evident in the mixed-grill churrascaritas, a medley of red-chili-glazed steak, shrimp, chicken and smoked sausage. Chili-glazed steak is rich and juicy with a subtle ring of sweetness on the finish. Sausage is served as a link sheared vertically in half. The outside is slightly crisp, yet the meat is still juicy, preserving its smoky richness and zest. Ginger chipotle chicken is succulent and flavorful, as well. But perhaps the best composition in this grouping is the jumbo shrimp that arrive impaled on a pair of crisscrossing wooden sticks. The juicy shrimp let loose with a compelling spice edge that's mellowed with a citrus sweetness. Baron says the shrimp were not marinated but were dry-rubbed with a mixture of ancho chili, cinnamon, clove and other spices. Then on the grill they're lapped with an orange-ginger chipotle glaze creating a Southwestern flavor that leans a little Asian.