I’m flying in a cramped Alaskan flight right now, on my way to Chicago. I am operating on one hazelnut Americano, some in-flight OJ and an oatmeal raisin cookie. The reason behind that spartan breakfast is simple. I’m saving myself for Moto tonight. I’m expecting it to transport me, shock me, and do things to my brain (and tongue) that I’ve never experienced before. And like previous “first-time” experiences, half-expecting to be let down from the weight of colossal expectations.
I’ve been a huge fan of what Homaru Cantu has been doing at Moto since he wow’d me during a late-night viewing of Iron Chef. It’s not often you find a chef that lugs in a massive laser printer into Kitchen Stadium, takes a photo of himself and his chefs doing a champagne toast, then taking that champagne concoction like a mad alchemist and putting in the printer. The result? Printing an edible, champagne flavored paper wafer dessert, that they then served to the judges. With the photo of their toast on it. Holy shit.
Personally, I feel as though the whole culinary gastronomy fad is fast approaching an apex. The originators will begin to fall away from those cutting edge techniques and playful approaches as more pretenders use nitros and foams and spherification compounds. But Moto is different. They are doing something beyond whimsical forays into cuisine chemistry. They are looking at ways to completely turn food upside down, shake whatever is clinging to the bottom out, and then proceed to reshape it without regard to convention or tradition.
That’s why this meal is special to me. It will be unlike anything I’ve ever had before, and unlike anything I’ll ever have again.
Ann and I are experiences people. We’re not big on buying lots of clothes or fancy electronics. Those types of things, as Tyler Durden succinctly said, end up owning you. It’s the transformative experiences that we really crave.
Happy anniversary, my love.