Blissful Death by Molecular Gastronomy

A spread of finger-lickin' amuse-bouche at El Bulli

It was only in 2006 that I decided that I had to secure a table at El Bulli. Why? Obviously because we were pretty sick and tired of reading glowing review after glowing review of this artist, this genius behind El Bulli, and not knowing what it was all about first hand! I remember reading a profile on Feran Adria on the plane. In total awe of the pictures and the promise of a life-changing dining experience, I knew I had to make a reservation the for the following year. I really had no idea it was that difficult to secure a table because I got a reservation the first time I wrote in. Just like that. It was also downright fantastic that we lived just a stone's throw away, across the spanish border in france. To think that so many others had to go through the trouble of taking leave from work, booking airfares, hotel rooms, car rentals etc... just to dine at El Bulli. All we had to do was get dressed and vroom!

And vroom we did....in the summer of 2007, in my sexy little roadster. We were about 45 minutes late! we were held back at the french border because of all days, I forgot to bring my proof of french residency and they had to pick me out of a long line of cars to do a standard check. The 'sweet' customs officer was nice enough to let me go with a warning after hearing that I had a rare dinner reservation at El Bulli and if I had to turn the car around, I would just die! Of course, that didn't influence his decision making.... I was simply in their database! One would think that all it would take would be a mere 5 minutes. Noooo. They took a good 15 good minutes to confer with the french authorities.

Scenic stop up the mountainous road

Now we're speeding as fast as we can to Roses and we get stuck in a traffic jam on entering the town! Ergh! We were so anxious that we'd lose our table and we really didn't have any idea how this people at El Bulli would take to late-comers.


I'll cut a long story short. When we did reach El Bulli, entering the rusted iron gates, pass gorgeous overgrown Barbary fig trees, we were relieved to see other people strolling in and most of them were simply hanging around in the gardens and chatting amongst themselves. It felt odd. Weren't we late? Anyway, we heard alot of spanish being spoken. We reckoned the locals knew what they were doing.



El Bulli is housed in a beautiful spanish hacienda. You enter into a modest walkway with a low ceiling, pass a small terrace that overlooks the beach. Books were laid out for sale. All on molecular gastronomy and Ferran's recipes. We were so surprised to be the first few tables to be seated. No one had really started dinner yet! Before sitting us, our waiter brought us to the kitchen/lab. It was packed....the kitchen staff were standing shoulder to shoulder, hovering around long inox tables like chemists in a laboratory. The man, Chef Adria, was there, just standing, staring into space with his arms stretch out, propping him up against a table. He looked in our direction for a few seconds and then resumed his former preoccupation. It seems as though his presence was enough to ensure that everything ran smoothly in the kitchens. Awesome!


We were offered an aperitif. And during this time, I got to dwelve into their extensive wine list.... oh how it humbled me. We picked out a tempranillo, Pagos Viejos '98 to start the evening. It was a recommendation by the sommelier when he heard that our fave vino espanol was Roda I, '01. 

Basil sherbet & parmesan drink

The aperitif was a hibiscus flower margarita. A little sweetish effervescence as I recall and certainly a creative representation of what was to come during the course of our meal. Our meal that night was composed of about 30 different shocking, creative and amazing dishes.


I'll make mention of the more memorable dishes like a spherical olive that was presented on a silver spoon, all wobbly and transluscent. It was an amazing burst of liquid olive magma in our mouths!! gorgeous! There were these little golden nuggets that looked like golden nuggets... tastiest i've had the pleasure of actually biting into!


Realise that these were all little amuse-bouches. I was especially taken by a pretty little goat cheese pouch topped with a tiny little orange flower. On the platter was also a crunchy olive, beetroot and yoghurt meringue, black salty truffles, savoury chocolate tablets of casis, yoghurt and pistachio. You'll see in this image a snapshot of some of the little items i've described.


So many of these amuse-bouches seemed like little desserts. It was lovely, popping all these explosions of flavours and textures in the mouth. Totally fun! 


I did not take a picture of a dish I found rather crude upon arriving at our table. They looked like dirty sponges but actually were totally delectable. When I did realise they were gems, it was too late cos we had eaten them all up.  Sponges they were, the edible kind, like sponge cakes. One was a pistachio cake with acid milk mousse and the other, black sesame brioche with miso. Both extremely fragile in the hands. Oh yes, we ate with our hands. In fact, we used our hands to pick up a lot of our food. It was delectable barbarianism! It was also essential at times because some bits were served on ice and brought out on trays that were carried by the serving staff, like a tiger nut milk flower. It was like an ice cream in the shape of a flower but had a creamy distinct flavour of tiger nut.

Apple Waldorf El Bulli style

By this point of the evening, the unusual started coming forth. For instance, watermelon with blackberry caviar, oyster yoghurt with ox tempura, haricot bean with Joselito's Iberian pork fat (mmmm..), fig soup in it's own fat (a red colored soup with green leaves of fig fat), anchovy and ham with yoghurt skin and my ulimate fave, a gorgonzola dome encasing a stuffing of walnuts, celery and apple cubes (like a deconstructed waldorf salad).


By now, I was ready to explode! I tried very very hard not to show it. The table next to us agreed that they were having a little difficulty too but seemed to be shovelling the food in nevertheless. They were a young spanish couple, both starry-eyed foodies and very enthusiastic about their experience like us. Yet, I was feeling a little uncomfortable and wished I had at some point in my teenage years, mastered the art of regurgitation, just so I could make more room in my pathetically small stomach! It didn't help that the portions were getting more substantial so I rationed myself as we went along to be able to sample everything .

Razor clams washed ashore ... on my plate!

Despite a terribly bloated condition, I especially enjoyed a basil sherbet accompanied by a parmesan drink. There were the razor clams, fresh and juicy, with a myraid of crunchy seaweed, a gnochi of polenta flavoured with coffee and safran, eel custard apple (caramalised foie gras with grilled eel), hare juice and shimensi mushrooms with clams.


Desserts. There was a chocolate based dessert that consisted of a cacao sorbet dotted with cacao bits, a foam of truffle and a banana themed dish with banana sorbet, fantastically realised in true banana form.


We were a lucky few to adjourn to the open terrace for some fresh air and coffee. Coffee it was at 2am in the morning and coffee indeed if we were to make our way back home down the windy mountain road ... alive!


I was, without doubt, bursting at the seams. Mind you, the servings were far from copious but they were plentiful and indulgently flavourful yet light. We couldn't quite understand why we were so full but we thoroughly enjoyed the experience and the bottle of Pagos Viejos '98. On hindsight, we wished we had the capacity to order more wine because it certainly called for a more varied accompaniment with all those varied flavours coming forth from those dishes.



We left El Bulli with a definitive first-hand experience of deft molecular gastronomy and a reminder of some rare gifts of mother nature like the oyster leaves we were presented at some point in our meal. For the uninitiated (like the table next to us), they were ohh-ing and ahh-ing at the creation of a leaf that tasted like an oyster when it wasn't a creation by El Bulli, but by mother nature. Hell, there's a first time for everyone.


We also left El Bulli with a printed menu of what we had that evening, with scribbles and notes of the ktichen staff, all in. What a souvenir. Service was impeccable and authentic. Everyone was spanish and spoke english with such a lovely accent. It's october 2010 and I'm makgin a point to call El Bulli each week see if there are any last minute cancellations so that me and my soul-mate can partake in yet another gastronomical adventure before El Bulli is no more.... for the next 4 years.