It used to be very, very difficult to score a table at elBulli, a restaurant two hours north of Barcelona widely regarded as the best in the entire world. Now it's impossible: elBulli closed last summer. I wouldn't have suspended my vegetarianism for thirty-four courses had we somehow been able to secure a reservation there before it shuttered, but that doesn't mean I'm not enthralled by the cult of Ferran Adria, elBulli's chef. (
This article is a good place to start if you're unfamiliar with elBulli.)
When
Usha invited me to the opening reception for
Fragile Feast: Routes to Ferran Adria, a photography exhibit by
Hannah Collins, I jumped at the chance - especially since it was my only shot at seeing it. In the depths of Wall Street's Deutsche Bank, the photographs aren't accessible to the public.
Last night, the artist gave a tour of the exhibit, and I relished the anecdotes she shared with us. An investor in elBulli happened to collect Collins's work; he gave Adria one of her photographs. It was the only art (aside from the food he created) in Adria's kitchen. That's how the collaboration was born: Adria tapped Collins to document the journey of dozens of foods from their source to Adria's kitchen for a book project.
The project took her to multiple continents, with the growing season often dictating her travels.
Collins explained that these flowers were an example of how Adria uses food playfully. He included them in a frozen dessert course at elBulli because it's not terribly surprising for the temperature of ice cream to numb your mouth slightly. These particular blooms, however, temporarily cause complete numbness when consumed, an unexpected effect. Sensory experiences were often just as important at elBulli as taste was.
Initially, the plan was for Collins to shoot the photographs and then hand over the writing of the
book to someone else. She developed such an intimate knowledge of everything she shot that it soon became clear to all only she could write the book.
Collins told us how, when she came back from her travels, Adria was almost a bit envious of all that she saw. Usha and I joked to each other that perhaps this was the impetus for him throwing in the towel at elBulli.
Of all the places and foods she photographed, Collins admitted that the one thing she was repelled by was jamon. Thinking back to our trip to Spain, where every tapas bar had pig legs prominently displayed, I nodded my head vigorously in agreement. (The pictures above are of soy and miso in Japan - much more to my liking.)
The images, shot with medium-format film cameras, absolutely stand on their own. They took my breath away, and I wished my photographer husband could see them too. The stories behind them make them all the more remarkable. Hearing the artist talk about the conception of the project, her process, and the work that went into
the book and ensuing gallery exhibits was truly the highlight of the evening.
Yesterday I arrived at Milk Studios by 7:30 AM with only the bare minimum of essentials in my (ancient) orange patent clutch. Because I'm not a fashion blogger, I didn't pressure myself to wear my most fabulous outfit or my highest heels. (Nothing to see here, just lil ol' me in Target jeans and a five dollar top!) Eleven hours on my feet later, my trusty leopard wedges - chosen for comfort - were no longer bearable. 
A footnote (literally) to this round of reviews: I took the remainder of the Quadrello to work the next day for a mid-morning snack. That afternoon, my olafactory senses were a bit - ahem - offended, and I vowed to replace my shoes. Then I realized it was the rind of cheese in the trashcan under my desk that I had been smelling!
Of the sides we ordered, the roasted squash with pepita seeds (front left) was our favorite. The cheese-stuffed fried peppers (back) were tasty in a slightly trashy way; the cauliflower (front right) was decent.
After splitting a eggplant parm hero (not pictured, but phenomenal), we had a slice of Parm's housemade pistachio-strawberry-chocolate ice cream cake. It brought back fond memories of family birthday celebrations with ice cream cakes from Carvel.
Yesterday I took the GRE. Since it's a computerized test, you receive your scores right away, and I'm happy to report that I kicked ass! It's odd not to have it looming over my head any more. I almost miss the sense of dread I'd been feeling in the weeks leading up to it. I'm sure I'll find something productive to do with my time now that it has been freed up from studying.
New bedding was a luxury we felt guilty spending money on, so we asked for sheets for Christmas. Our bedroom is finally shaping up (I'll post a tour soon, I promise!) thanks to this gift, which ties everything together. 
Shawn occasionally surprises me with fresh flowers. What I get a kick out of almost as much as the blooms themselves is the fact that I never notice them right away, no matter how prominently he displays them. I think he'd secretly be disappointed if I spotted them without him prompting me ("Notice anything...ahem...different...in your dressing room?")
At the end of each run, I delight in reviewing my split times on my Garmin GPS watch. I'll read them off to Shawn while we're cooling down: 8:28, 8:19, 8:32, and on and on...I love to speculate why a certain mile was a bit faster or slower than my usual pace, but what thrills me most is when our final miles are as speedy as our first ones.
'Wichcraft makes a mean tomato soup (pictured), but yesterday I took Shoko's advice and tried Brooklyn Larder's spicy interpretation. It was astoundingly good, and I'm ecstatic that I can pop around the corner to buy a quart of it any time I fancy. I've mastered homemade soup, too, adding a garlic one from 101 Cookbooks and a butternut squash bisque to my repertoire.
From top to bottom: cava, light-as-air doughnuts, squash toast with ricotta and apple cider vinegar (while unphotogenic, it took the prize for favorite dish), whole wheat pizza, housemade ricotta ravioli, roasted beets with housemade yogurt, and their famous salted caramel sundae.
