This is part two of my three-part series on the fun that can be had in the oft serious setting of fine dining.  Part one, with the introduction and the story of my meals at Travail Kitchen & Amusements in Minneapolis can be found here.

Desfrutar

Barcelona, Spain

The meal I had at Desfrutar in 2021 is, and may always be, the best meal I’ve ever had in my life.  And I’ve had a lot of good meals.  It only had two Michelin Stars at the time of my visit, and was only something like 5^thon the World’s Best Restaurant’s list (it now has three stars and has supplanted the long-holding Noma at the number one spot).  Which is probably why I was able to get a table there at all, even if it was only for lunch.  It was probably better for lunch anyway, as it was the activity of the day, and we all just went back to the flat afterwards and basked in its glory in a food-induced stupor until the next morning.

This meal had a lot going for it for me personally:  I was in Barcelona, my favorite city in the world, with two of my favorite aunts.  It was my first big trip in sobriety, post-divorce, and post-pandemic.  It had been years since I’d been out to a restaurant even in the same echelon.  And that was all going on before we even walked in the door!  As we walked in, through an unremarkable door and past the open kitchen into a light and airy dining room, the atmosphere was decidedly beautiful and curated and precise – but it was also relaxed, unfussy, not stuffy.  A simple, elegant room filled with the sounds of people enjoying life.  A staff that smiled warmly and was dressed nicely, but with no stiffness or over-the-top ceremony.  I didn’t feel like a bull in a china shop, and let me tell you, that is not an uncommon feeling for my spastic self in fine dining settings.

This elegant comfort was just the setting of the stage, though, for the real drama and mystery and delight and wonder and joy only came when the parade of food and drinks began.  My aunts both did the alcoholic pairing, while I took the NA pairing option (and was in bliss just from this being an option – this was the first I had seen it in a fine dining setting, before the dealcoholization craze took hold).  Our dishes occasionally differed, but they were incredibly thoughtful about keeping my entire experience one of sobriety without my having to think about it, and there was a purposefulness to each NA decision (both in food and drinks) that kept me from ever thinking I was missing something by forgoing the alcohol.  Again, this was my first really big meal after achieving sobriety, and that fact brought me unimaginable comfort and joy.

But I digress!  We’re here to talk about how fun fine dining can be!  So we’re in this delightful setting, I don’t have to think about my sobriety, and the parade begins.  Our first taste was a play on a welcome cocktail of passionfruit, with the Aunt’s getting a passionately rum-soaked lady finger, and mine coming in the form of a spherified, perfectly balanced mocktail.  It looked like an egg yolk, and was served in a gilded oyster shell.  I mean, come on.  The play on form, and texture, and vessel just about put stars in my eyes.  It was like a magic trick, where an egg yolk in an oyster shell transformed into a burst of mocktail in my mouth.  And that food-as-a-magic-trick theme that continued throughout the entire meal, the idea of the food being the spectacle and the entertainment in and of itself.

There was “the beet that comes out of the land,” which literally emerged from a bowl of “dirt” when the server swirled the bowl, and was served with a frozen lychee raspberry (looks like raspberry, tastes like lychee) and rose water “dew drops.”  The “multispherical pesto with pistachios and eel” was made to look like a caterpillar in a garden, but each segment burst in your mouth with the pure essence of pesto flavors.  A “liquid salad” was served in layers in a champagne flute, and I remember saying it “tasted like springtime?” with a question mark that fully encompassed the mystery of the thing.  It conjured an image in my mind with its fucking sorcery, a meadow beside a wood, all bright and newly green, the sound of trickling water, the smell of cut rain, the feel of cool breezes.  It sounds a bit insane, but I remember taking a sip of that “salad” and that image instantly popping into my head, feeling completely real for just one moment.

There were more “mundane” examples of the beloved molecular gastronomy as well.  The “macaroni alla carbonara” with its “noodles” some sort of gelatinized flavor magic, topped with romano foam.  The tatin of foie gras topped with “corn” – it looked like corn, and was the essence of corn, but was in fact a spherifized liquid.  The tiny chocolates that looked exactly like little green and red peppers.  The green tea “rocks.”  But with each course, there came some sort of surprise, something unexpected along with the instructions on how to eat it (which was clutch; we didn’t have to experiment and make messes!).

And if each dish was an act of this play, the serve ware was a well-dressed stage.  There were some normal, round, white plates – which let the imaginative form of the food shine brightest – but there were also rocks and big hunks of knobbly wood, and even a nest made of twigs.  I particularly liked the simple cast iron egg holder with its bright red chicken – that dish contained a warm mushroom gelatin in the egg shell, and then topped it with a crispy egg yolk.  So simple, yet so whimsical.

Over 30-some courses, we oohed and ahhed, giggled in surprise and delight, and made so many yummy noises that they almost lost all meaning.  It was fun in a way that only molecular gastronomy seems to be able to pull off, making me feel like a five-year-old girl on her first trip to the circus – full of wonder and joy.  Food should be fun, in my opinion, even in the highest tiers of fine dining, and my meal at Desfrutar proved to me that it can be.

Up Next:  The Joie de Vivre of Montreal