If you willfully submit to the VR headsets, the ferris wheel of sweets and the poetic sermons behind the 17 appetizers that precede 15 entrees — followed by a trio of desserts — prepared by the 60 chefs in a kitchen no bigger than a flex 2-bed New York apartment, you’ll make the four hours at El Celler pass (grandly) like a ship in a Mallorcan... More
If you willfully submit to the VR headsets, the ferris wheel of sweets and the poetic sermons behind the 17 appetizers that precede 15 entrees — followed by a trio of desserts — prepared by the 60 chefs in a kitchen no bigger than a flex 2-bed New York apartment, you’ll make the four hours at El Celler pass (grandly) like a ship in a Mallorcan sunset. A meal at the world’s former #1 restaurant in the world can feel stuffed, but it never overwhelms.
Nor does it bore. Dishes here are timeworn, dotted with enough surprises to keep up with the times. A few of their marquee dishes show their age: a mid 2000s foie nougat whose trifecta of sweet-salty-fatty had been explored to abandon in the 90s. And a brioche ‘bao’ veiled with truffle appeared before on the menu of a ‘worldly’ Michelin-starred tasting counter. But that trifecta is well-balanced (the Pedro Ximinez reigns it all in beautifully), and the bao — weightless yet gently chewy — pairs smartly with the truffle.
Most places operate within a narrow aperture; Joan Roca explores a range of flavors that stretch from bitter (pickle gel) to sharp (frozen olives), all arranged in a sequence that builds steadily. Aside from a denouement or two — like a grilled, pickled lettuce salad dressed with black garlic — dishes grow in ambition as the meal progresses. My favorite savory course was the restaurant’s newest: sardines in bone velouté with anchovy garum and hazelnut praline — a dish that spoke lyrically of summer and sea. And the best dishes, period, are Jordi Roca’s desserts, which may feature grilled white asparagus (!) with coffee and a quilt of grapefruit skins with Sichuan pepper. I loved them all.
The duds can be forgiven. A duck stew was a cobble of rough textures; the crustacean sauces started to blend; and the opening brodo could double as a salt quarry. At times, service can feel spotty and forgetful.
But El Celler is an institution inasmuch as the sharply angular, sun-washed, glass-enclosed dining room looks fresh despite being decades old. And the gourmands who’ve waited 11 months for this may look jaded until you lean in. They all had a twinkle in their eyes. Mine did, too. Less
