The Breadsticks

The Breadstick mystery of 2008. It will surely be solved when and if I put my hands on a copy of Bobby Flay's latest cookbook, but until I reach number 32 on my to-do list, I will have to count on my readers. Maybe you sense the dismay, the frustration, the need behind one reader's comment: What is on the breadsticks served at the bar at Mesa Grill, anyway?

I have my suspicions. After half an hour spent in my herb and spice basket, carefully tasting items I thought might be suspects in the scheme: I finger ancho and chipotle chili powders among others upon which I can only leave you argue until one of you kind souls jets in here with the answer. When I get it, it will solve my question on why an innocent little breadstick made by Chef Flay and company sneaks up and punches me in the face with such force. It packs a long, slow whallop thoroughly unexpected (perhaps only by me, it is TexMex after all).

If you think our collective commitment to this bar nosh is wavering, perhaps inattentive, you are so very wrong. Right at this moment, Dori has a stale section of one of these items wandering around the bottom of her handbag, where it will stay, she vowed, until she figures it out.

So come on people, throw me a breadstick.