[ed. Excellent additional story in the NY Times about the spin-off implications from the close of El Bulli, here:] by Grant Achatz
When Ferran Adrià announced last week that El Bulli would not reopen at the end of a two-year hiatus in 2014—or, if it did reopen, it would not be in anything like its present form — we wrote to Grant Achatz for his reaction. Mr. Achatz worked at El Bulli for a few weeks in 2000, and what he saw there shaped his career. Now the chef at Alinea in Chicago, Mr. Achatz wrote back with this reflection, based in part on an excerpt from his forthcoming memoir “Life, On the Line.”
I arrived at The French Laundry early one night so I could get some prep done for a VIP table when I saw Thomas Keller gliding through the kitchen toward me. Every morning he would greet each cook with a handshake, and depending on the time, a smile. As he approached on this day, I noticed something in his hand. He placed the October 1999 issue of Gourmet on the stainless-steel counter in front of me and asked me to open to the page marked with a yellow sticky note.
I thumbed to the page, finding an unfamiliar, gruff looking chef surrounded by floating oranges. Who is this guy, I wondered…and why is he juggling citrus fruits?
In a short time, that guy would become known as the best chef in the world. His name was Ferran Adrià.
Chef Keller looked down at the magazine and spoke softly: Read this tonight when you go home. His food really sounds interesting, and right up your alley. I think you should go stage there this summer….I will arrange it for you.
Seven months later I landed at the Barcelona airport. I had not planned very well and had neglected to make arrangements for traveling to El Bulli, two hours north by car. My stage started the next day. As luck would have it, while walking through the airport I ran into a group of American chefs. Wylie Dufresne, Paul Kahan, Suzanne Goin, Michael Schlow and a couple of journalists had been brought over by the Spanish Tourism Board to promote Spanish gastronomy. We talked for a bit before I asked where they were headed. A restaurant called El Bulli, Wylie said, have you ever heard of it? Needless to say I hitched a ride with them on their posh tour bus.
When I arrived with the American chefs I felt a bit like a leech. After all, I was just a sous chef at the time, they were all established chefs on a funded trip. None of them knew me, and furthermore I was there to work. When we arrived at El Bulli the co-owner and maitre d’hotel, Juli Soler, welcomed the group at the door, and the Spanish official who was leading the tour pulled him aside and explained my story. I was prepared to put on a chef coat, right then and there, and start working. Juli walked off to the kitchen, and when he returned he said, “Ferran wants you to eat with the group.” Well, now I really feel like a parasite, but if you insist…
I was a 25-year-old sous chef at what most considered, at the time, the best restaurant in the world. I had grown up in a restaurant since the age of 5. I graduated with honors from what most considered the best culinary school in the world. I thought I knew food and cooking.
I had no idea what we were in for. Honestly, none of us did.
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