It was a Lonely Planet recommendation, but the description made it hard to tell – it was definitely trendy, but would it be good? We arrived, and it was, as promised, a scene. A hungover beautiful and
eclectic mix of intellectuals, euro-hipsters, intimidating groups of
girls that had ‘fun’ engraved in their shawls, and Turkish men.
I tried to get a look at people’s plates, just to see what the food looked like, but everyone’s plate was empty. Not just empty with the bones and the garnishes still there, but empty like three separate tables of people were currently scooping up the last bit of sauce with their knife and fork and slurping it up. A promising sign.
So we sat down and waited, but nobody came. The place was crowded and it seemed like there were at least 10 waiters, but when I followed their paths each “waiter” sat down with the plate of food they were bussing and started to eat. Which is when I realized it’s a buffet. The kind of place where if you don’t fend for yourself, you’re not going to get anywhere, and you’re certainly not going to get any food.
I was recently in Spain for Madrid Fusion, one of Spain's biggest gastro-festivals that included a “who’s who” of culinary heavyweights from Spain and elsewhere, including Ferran Adrià (who announced his two-year sabbatical from his famed El Bulli restaurant), Sergi Arola, Grant Achatz, Alain Ducasse, Cheong Liew and Mark Best.