The case of the missing bison

Red Mountain Grill, I dedicate last night's coffee-cocoa dusted bison tenderloin dish to your sitcom-esque incompetence!  Don't get me wrong- the rich, slow heat of their red curry coconut mussel broth is my most favorite apres-ski pick-me-up, one I've never quite been able to copycat in my own kitchen (much to my dismay).

During our last visit, however, Jason was excited to see a bison tenderloin special with wild boar (!) sausage on the menu and was quick to order it.  As our food was delivered, Jason's arrived not only sans intriguing boar sausage, but also clearly a cut of meat that was neither bison nor tenderloin.  Never one to complain, Jason laughed it off and cut off a hunk of the meat and was bringing it to his mouth when, mid bite, the waiter lunges at our table and swipes the plate out from under his hovering fork!  "Wrong plate!" the waiter shouted en route to the kitchen.

A few moments later he returns flourishing a new plate.  A new plate, that is now the second wrong delivery of the evening!  Moral of the story, Jason never got his bison.  So inspired, I grabbed a couple of petite buffalo tenderloins from Whole Foods (home to the best, most high quality meat selection EVER) and scurried home to fill the bison void in my husband's life.

I've always wanted to try some sort of coffee-rubbed meat preparation, so I googled around and found a simple but flavor-packed home recipe using unsweetened cocoa and coffee, paired with a pomegranate reduction.  Combining Jason's grocery list request for asparagus and my insatiable passion for starches, roasted asparagus and brown rice pilaf joined the party.  Yummy!

Successes:

• Thanks to my beloved new cast iron skillet, I was able to achieve a serious sear for about the first time ever
• Brown rice = nutty, toothy goodness, the chopped dried tart cherries echoed the pomegranate reduction
• I actually ate the asparagus.  And it was...good!
• My ridiculous decorative rice towers!  As I waited 'just a few more minutes' for Jason to finish what he was working on, i scoured my kitchen for some kind of mold to use for the rice....not much luck.  Settled on a shot glass!
  

Failures:

• For the life of me I have never, ever been able to 'reduce by half.'  Be it wine, broth, juice - doesn't matter.  If you tell me it will be lusciously thick and syrupy after 20 - 30 minutes on my stove, let me assure you.  It will not be.  More time, maybe?  More heat?  Maybe I can blame the altitude.  Delicious flavor, but epic reduction fail.
  
• Related: pomegranate 'reduction' decorative plating drips...pooled around everything in a serious episode of drop containment failure.
  

Engaging eats at TAG

I came for the pop rocks.

Braving the vibrant, hip crowds of Larimer Square on a Saturday night, I approached relative newcomer TAG with thoughtful anticipation. A pop rock accented dish – genius or gimmick? With a menu of self-proclaimed “continental social food,” the skeptic in me pondered why the apparently more pedestrian “tapas” description wouldn’t suffice…pretentious eats are not fun, and I was dubious.

The lure of the crackling accoutrements was too much, though – through the doors and into the warmly lit, narrow space we went. After much back and forth, my companions and I quickly realized we had narrowed our first round to nearly every dish on the starter menu. Our laid back waiter laughed and shrugged this off as commonplace.

Thirsty in the meanwhile, we cracked open the wine list and sifted through the weighty tome. Offput by the overwhelming, expensive, and cheekily self-aware wine list, we turned to the bar made famous by celebrated bar magician Mike Henderson for a coconut mojito. The result was a bright, clean, coconut water - laced libation whose tropical nuances were sadly overshadowed by a serious wallop of rum.

All wounds were healed by the arrival of the flash seared Hiramasa, wading in a piquant, vinegary pool of yuzu and topped with jalapeno slivers and exotic myoga – and of course, the crackling chorus of orange pop rocks. The buttery soft portions of yellowtail soothed the palate, quietly supporting the bolder flavors of the yuzu and jalapeno. And the pop rocks? A barely there hint of citrus – but perhaps more importantly, the ingredient served as a conversation piece and small delight accenting the success of the dish.

As we passed plates and chattered about the merits of each, I began to comprehend the ‘social’ aspect of the restaurant’s mantra. Created with a wink from Executive Chef Troy Guard, the playful starters are meant to engage the diner, setting the table atwitter upon delivery. The taco sushi arrived with just such a flair – rather than the standard rice-and-nori vehicle, petite, crunchy taco shells were delivered cradling delicate tidbits of tuna with a kick of mango salsa and guacamole. The dish was a table favorite that had diners crunching away and swatting wrists for the last bite.

The tropical twists throughout the evening connected diners with Executive Chef Troy Guard’s Hawaiian roots – the Li-Hing mango salsa, fresh tropical cocktails, Asian influences – all proved a welcome escape from the frosty December evening.

The main courses, though appetizing and skillfully executed, lacked some of the verve of the inventive starters. The Szechuan Colorado Lamb was a seared, glistening chop cooked to ruby perfection– but only the faintest hint of sweet-hot marinade asserted itself. Given the wow factors of our previous dishes, I looked forward to a bolder showing. The dish was, however, pleasantly plated over a bed of nubby couscous soaked with lip smacking, umami-rich dragon sauce. Still discussing the Hiramasa a few plates past, we forged onward.

After much bargaining and promises to exchange bites, our group settled on a select few desserts from a list shockingly devoid of crème brûlée or chocolate lava cake derivations. A cup of loosely arranged piping hot churros arrived and disappeared in a flash. Crisp on the outside and pillowy within, these cinnamon-sugar dusted batons elevated the street cart favorite and lent another continental nod to mexico.

In spite of its weighty name, the sticky toffee cake was featherlight and traced with the nutty-sweet essence of its namesake confection. The tart raspberry passion sauce effectively sliced through the heady lusciousness of the cake, while a subtly flavored quenelle of bourbon butterscotch ice cream drizzled lazily over the cake’s edge. After knocking away a couple of superfluous ganache truffles , I indulged in the perfectly portioned sweet.

These fresh, fun concoctions seek to engage the diner and make that crucial link between food and experience. Sharing not just a plate of food, but a quirky, playful dining experience, allows TAG to distinguish itself from typical tapas fare.