Review: Cooking in Progress

A documentary about the best restaurant in the world provokes both beauty and boredom.

Ferran Adrià is considered one of the best, most innovative and craziest chefs in the world.

Image credit: Courtesy El Bulli

By: Mecca Bos

The first time I heard of El Bulli or Ferran Adria I was working in a big, 200-seat restaurant with 20 male line cooks and a high-profile all-American chef.  One of the cooks had scored the first El Bulli catalogue, and all of the boys were gushing over it as if it were a porno mag. By the time it made it’s way to me, well, I thought it was one of the silliest things I had ever seen.

I’ve always had a challenging relationship with molecular gastronomy (which, as a term, is already considered passé—I think the newest preferred vernacular is “progressive”). That night I joked that I was going to put “smoked quail of coconut with bubblegum essence” or some such thing on my salad. My chef told me to rein it in. It was funny, but not too funny. I was to respect the El Bulli.

Over the years, when I’d mention to a chef friend (usually a man) that I find molecular gastronomy (excuse me, “progressive cuisine”) to be sort of tedious, I tended to get a metaphorical slap on the hand. “You don’t have to like it,” they’ll say. “But you should try to understand it.” And so I try.

Last night, as I sat in the St. Anthony Main theatre with about a hundered other foodie-types watching the new film about El Bulli, Cooking In Progress, I sat somewhat fascinated. And at moments, rather bored.

While it is something of a treat to get any sort of behind the scenes glimpse into the most influential restaurant in the world (the moniker “best” has been usurped by Noma in Copenhagen, the chef of which came up in El Bulli) I must say that I was left with more questions than answers about Adria and his brand of cooking (if we may agree for the sake of conversation that it is cooking.)

It is true that one must respect the curiosity of Adria and his crew – in one scene, they prepare a sweet potato in virtually every technique known to man, content to assume nothing. But in any good film, an audience member seeks a few moments of levity. I counted precisely three, where the audience was actually allowed to laugh or smile or breathe. Most scenes were sort of what I had feared: overly intense guys extremely focused on minutia. I’m fairly certain I never saw a single one of them crack a smile.

In another scene, a sous chef loses track of who is supposed to be in charge of “the second broom.” Two staff people are evidently charged with sweeping, at all times. When the “second broom” falls by the wayside, all hell breaks loose. I remember turning to my date and saying: “These people aren’t acting like Spaniards. It’s more . . . German.”

I left the film feeling a little sad that this outfit, considered the world’s most important in cuisine, had seemed to take all of the joy out of putting food on a plate. I flashed back to those halcyon days at that American restaurant—the sweaty intensity, the bawdy jokes, the after hours drinking and the sexual tension. The pride we took in putting out good food as well. But also of the total package. For me, cooking has always been about the joy of it (Irma Rombauer actually had it right).

There was one other emotion, other than diligence, I think that I detected on Adria’s face: fear. When you’re the king of the hill, there is absolutely no time for resting on your laurels or, evidently, for folly. I’ll never run the best restaurant in the world, but I’ll also always likely laugh my way through my days.

Of course, El Bulli is now closed indefinitely. In a classic move, the chef has decided to quit while he’s still ahead (although we have, no doubt, not heard the last of him).

But then, just when I thought I had it all figured out, the end of the film was upon us. In conclusion, you’re barraged with still photo after still photo, of, well, the most beautiful food in the world. Of course, this food may or may not have much to do with eating. Like any good art, it’s to do with expanding the mind, with seducing the eyes and the senses, with connecting on profound levels.

As these stills flash before your eyes, you’re mesmerized, regardless of your take on Adria and what he does. Beauty is beauty.

Cooking in Progress opens Friday, Sept. 23 at St. Anthony Main Theatre, 115 Main St. SE. A full list of show times is available here. Sunday night’s show also features dinner – all-you-can-eat paella – in the courtyard next to Aster Cafe.