Dying in an Italian restaurant on a Friday night, let’s say in Madrid, has all the cruelty in the world. Apparently, the flames were caused by a torch, used for the Inferno pizza, and ended up igniting the ceiling decorations. Two people lost their lives.
What paints a torch in a restaurant room? And an Amazonian decoration? Of course, they do not anticipate anything good…
The tragedy coincides with a revival of the flambés –which one will continue to call flambés, even if it is Gallicism–, banished half a century ago by the nouvelle cuisine, it was Paul Bocuse, who saw in that spectacle of fire, choirs and dances an anachronism to Banish from dining rooms.
A few days ago, after enjoying the work Confessions d’un artista by Andreu Rifé at the Romea in Barcelona –an exercise in honesty about creation and how much we all copy ourselves–, we went, author and friends, to dinner at Estevet. I was surprised that they flambéed a dessert (I’d swear it was rum flan). I did not dislike the ritual and it was a pity that there were no women at the table, because the flambé was a way to impress the ladies at the time when the gentlemen invited, whom we will not call gentlemen given their pyrotechnic intentions.
There are more things left over from restaurants, besides a blowtorch and Amazonian ornaments, an affront to the brothers and sisters of the Amazon (they wouldn’t). I have plenty of explanations of the dishes because the dishes already speak for themselves. I have plenty of cutlery that always ends up slipping off and hopefully doesn’t end up in the crotch, which is no place for stains. I have plenty of flower petals, soybean stems, and any vegetable garnish that alters the flavor of the dish or makes it ridiculous.
I understand that there are those who want to turn a dinner into an “experience”, perhaps to have a topic of conversation or to impress the companion (if that is the case, go ahead, don’t talk anymore). What she would never have imagined is that this and other nonsense would lead to the death of two human beings…
