I think for my sesquicentennial review, I've gotten to a point where I'm letting the food direct the show of stars. Sure, we have the servers and cooks as producers, the location as our stage, lighting, sound and supporting staff. But the meal, ah, that is our celebrated lead actor. Without it, all other pieces may paint a pretty picture, but what good is a painting when it medium is missing? 

The Mission really delivers its lines well. Almost too well. Like Dakota Fanning well. Each plate has a spectrum of flavors--bold and smoky with subtle and delicate undertones of fresh herbs. Each dish is skillfully plated and ready for its closeup. My steak tacos were so intensely flavored, I didn't really dwell on the fact there were but three petite tortilla shells mounded with strips of magnificently grilled flank steak and slices of fresh avocado. And the papas y chorizo, which I ordered as an accompaniment, helped balance the palate yet was still a strong item on its own. Robert M's pozole was as unique as it was flavorful, delicious, satisfying and, ironically, humble. The bread pudding he ordered at the end of meal was, according to him, a premature ejaculation. Apparently, that means it was good, so I'll take his word for that. Those who joined us for this meal seemed to share some of the enthusiasm over the dessert, but I don't eat sweets so will have to believe their accolades worthy. 

What, pray tell, denies The Mission of the much clamored five-star rating? Primarily, it's the associated fees. On one hand, I was blown away by the sensuous flavors apparent in every edible item. On the other hand, I was blown away upon seeing the bill (especially since I had nothing but water to drink). Does one negate the other? Perhaps. Am I at a place in my life where such a statement rings true? Not necessarily. While my initial response was, I wouldn't likely return to The Mission if it was my decision, I confess that I would, willingly, give myself back to The Mission if only for the sublime sins of doting on sustenance.