Outtakes

I've written about Madrid Fusion, that 3.5-day extravaganza of culinary innovation and ego here. But there are still a few impressions that didn't make it into print, like Ferran Adrià admitting to me that, all technological doodads aside, "what's better than a fried egg?" Or the liquid nitrogenized dollops of olive oil served as hor d'oevres at dinner that, once put in their mouths, had all the stern ladies at the Real Casino blowing smoke out their noses like dragons. Or the woman who pushed her way toward a plate of ham during the massive tapas lunch served in the exhibition hall saying, "It's the only decent thing to eat in this place." In fact, although the hall was fairly teeming with truffles and chocolates and cheese and a never-ending array of small plates born from a back-stage kitchen by trails of waiters, it was the ham stand that drew the ravenous crowds. Ham and the wine to wash it down with. Viva la España.