By Patrick Hieger
“What can I say about Boragó that you don’t already know?”
This was the tweet I could muster up when I returned home, wine-buzzed, full, and happy from Boragó. I had left the house at 6:30 to catch a bus and make my 8:00 reservation. It was after midnight when I returned home. My mind was aflutter with images of wild potatoes from Chiloé, perfectly grilled venison with chocolate antlers and beet blood, a smoking liquid nitrogen-dipped bon bon that melted in my mouth before I knew it was gone.
It was the first time in a long time that I had treated myself to such extravagance, in part because I make my living as a chef. Culinary palaces like Noma, Alinea and D.O.M. aren’t easy to get to, even harder to get into. The time, the money, the effort it takes to make the pilgrimages to…
View original post 976 more words