I just saw the film about its namesake, the revolutionary Spanish restaurant known for avante-guard cuisine achieved by the whimsical use of molecular gastronomy techniques. Head chef, Ferran Adria, has become a celebrity to a budding community of food geeks and academics. He and his team invented the process called "spherification," which they employ to turn any number of edible substances into perfect little pearls using sodium alginate (derived from algae) and calcium chloride. One could argue that this single achievement is molecular gastronomy's defining technique.
Adria's announcement in 2010 that he was closing El Bulli, has created buzz about the chef's motivations as well as intensified interest in molecular gastronomy. The documentary film about the establishment the NY Times has dubbed "The Most Influential Restaurant in the World" gives viewers a REAL behind-the-scenes look into Adria's world: his R&D kitchen (which bears a striking resemblance to a chemistry lab) and El Bulli. There is no narration or commentary, just high definition footage. The only drama or humor in the film is what the audience perceives based on natural dialogue and actions of the characters going about their everyday business.
The movie's subtitle, "Cooking in Progress," is an apropos description of the story line. From shopping at the market to taking pictures and cataloguing each potential menu item, you witness dishes being made from conception to final execution at El Bulli. The progression takes months of painstaking experimentation and detailed record keeping until the final moment when Adria gives his nod of approval.
In addition to outstanding feats of culinary mastery, El Bulli is also known for its meticulous service - to the tune of 30+ courses presented to every guest. Feeding a full house of 50 diners equates to the plating of more than 1500 individual dishes per night. The ambitious venture requires over 40 cooks and a crew of efficient wait staff. As if producing such an extensive menu of courses, each involving extreme care & dexterity, weren't enough; Adria expects his lackeys to make continual improvements throughout the meal.
An interesting revelation in the film is the hands-off authority that Adria wields. He has obviously worked with his proteges long enough to develop a high degree of trust such that he delegates all of the food preparation to them. It is their responsibility to figure out how to create the next best dish - a dish the world has never seen before. However, Adria remains the ultimate arbiter of quality and innovation. He will and does tell his staff: "Don't give me anything that isn't good." Watching the documentary with English subtitles makes Adria's criticisms even more humorous and delightful to watch.
While I am intrigued by the likes of Adria, Jose Andres (a fellow Spaniard who trained at El Bulli before opening restaurants in the U.S.) and Wiley Defresne (known for his use of transglutaminase, aka. "meat glue"), I am not a die-hard molecular groupie. I personally side with some of Adria's critics who denounce his approach to cooking as "unhealthy." I know of no studies that definitively demonstrate that the chemicals commonly used by molecular gastronomists pose a risk to diners; but I feel that many of the techniques are "unwholesome." My aversion to processed foods extends to all things containing transglutaminase (a binder) and other chemicals you wouldn't find in grandma's kitchen. Blame it on my classical culinary training or food snobbery. I just prefer to eat as close to nature as possible. And if I want a bowl of pasta; I expect the noodles to be made of wheat and not some funky fish protein (sorry, Wiley). Call me a Luddite for believing that chefs should be able to blow your senses away without the use of a chemistry kit.
Watching a dinner service unfold at El Bulli got me thinking about dining out and satisfaction. To foodies, there is appeal in letting a skilled chef serve you want he/she wants to cook rather than ordering off a printed menu. Eating out has become a form of entertainment, especially for folks who like surprises. And yet, the food is so complex at El Bulli that I imagine some diners must feel like children watching an R-rated film: they walk away having experienced both amusement and perplexity. While not clearly spelled out by the footage in the film, it is apparent that there's a rhyme & reason to the progression of courses. I doubt that anyone who hasn't had a glimpse behind-the-scenes would be able to fully appreciate Adria's thought process. So I wonder: if you don't know why you're eating what your eating, what's the point? Should you eat courses containing foods you dislike or are morally opposed to eating just to be polite or to "expand one's culinary horizons"? And if so, how can you honestly claim that you were completely satisfied at the end of the meal? I may never be able to judge Ferran Adria's style of service for myself, but I did enjoy watching it unfold.
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