It is a truth universally acknowledged that one's tire will go flat and one's bedframe will shear apart during the week before one's final exams.

I don't like Bobby Flay's public persona. It's probably a matter of television rather than reality. Accordingly, I wasn't prepared to like his cooking at all, especially as it's the sort of fusion cuisine that I don't care that much for. Having said all that, I very much enjoyed brunch at the Mesa Grill today. His take on the now ubiquitous tuna tartare, which turned out to be chunks of palpably fresh tuna with a sort of avocado cream, was possibly the best version on the mid-level restaurant staple I've had in New York, while the dense butternut squash tamale I had with a delicious spiced chicken was set off by a surprising cinnamon butter. I ordered the well priced hominy grits ($2) as an additional side dish, and had a fun carrot mango juice with it all. The problem with brunches, in general, is that one worries the restaurant is getting rid of their stale flour and eggs. Mesa Grill's is something quite different.

I still don't want to cook like Flay, though. I'll leave it to him.