“For a long time, she held a special place in my heart. I kept this special place just for her, like a “Reserved” sign on a quiet corner table in a restaurant. Despite the fact that I was sure I’d never see her again.” ― Haruki Murakami, South of the Border, West of the Sun
This is a bitter-sweet review in that, deep inside, I concede that no dining experience may ever come close to what I experienced during that rainy Bladerunner-esque evening in Tokyo. The evening began by sipping cocktails overlooking the never-ending Tokyo skyline, smoking long Vogue cigarettes in the grandest of grand, Grand Mandarin Oriental. Indoor water features calmed the soul with the sound of moving water, purring in my ears alongside jazz tunes. The view overlooking the seemingly endless Tokyo skyline stirred feelings of awe and helplessness at my own tiny occupied space compared to vast Tokyo. Beautiful.
There are only a lucky 7 seats available each evening for the molecular degustation – and two seatings. As we were seated alongside one another, nervous excitement filled the room. A small black tool box lay in front of me, containing inside small implements and a measuring tape. When unraveled, the measuring tape contained the nights menu.
I am a devotee of the old adage; a photo is worth 1000 words. For this reason, I won’t be writing in detail of what occurred that evening. I truly believe this is something one can only experience. Even after 1 year, I still find myself mystified of what unravelled in front of my eyes…