Word: bullis
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From the first sip of the proffered aperitif at El Bulli--a frozen gin with hot lemon fizz--you know you're in for something different. Ferran Adria has won the adulation of food critics and cooks by whipping up startling combinations of texture, temperature and taste: bite-size cuttlefish ravioli that explode in a burst of coconut and ginger, soft-boiled quail egg with a crispy caramel crust, a polenta of frozen powdered Parmesan cheese, almond ice cream on a swirl of garlic oil and balsamic vinegar...
...isolated beach on Spain's Catalan coast near the town of Rosas, El Bulli has become a pilgrimage site for foodies brave enough to make the dizzying drive down for the experience--not really a conventional meal but a series of 25 to 30 small courses, some no more than a bite-size morsel or slurp. They are presented on a silver spoon or on a stick or in a tiny fluted glass, often with suggestions about how things should be eaten--in one go, in separate bites or in a certain order...
...their molehole quarters, Bulli and his men sleep, lounge, eat in a special mess hall (no highly seasoned or gas-forming foods). They keep in touch with their families by phone (most frequent request: bring laundry to the base), often find, as one officer says, that alert duty is usually the time that "your furnace at home goes out or the dog gets lost, or your wife gets moody on the phone." There is no time for boredom. Some sit in seclusion in locked-door study rooms, poring over target data (they never discuss targets with other crews; no crew...
...uuggghha! The Bulli crew was lounging amiably at 11 a.m. one day last week when came the blood-curdling aa-oo-uuggghha! of the klaxon that pierces ears and reverberates in stomachs. Bulli and his men exploded from the molehole and raced for their plane. Copilot Richard Franz, 40, scampered up the forward ladder, and started to snap switches. Pilot Bulli clambered after him, swung his leg over the throttle quadrant, taking care not to upset switches or move dials...
From the radios came the command post voice: "Brakes, brakes. This is Alert Bravo. Authentication Delta. Brakes, brakes. This is Alert Bravo . . ." (The radio reminds Bulli to secure his brakes so that his plane will not roll when he starts his engines.) Bulli flicked on his engine switches. No. 3 fired up, then No. 4; he gangbarred the other six simultaneously. In 45 seconds, all eight fires were roaring. Outside, crewmen hustled around disconnecting external power units. At exactly 11:04-four minutes after the klaxon-Bulli was ready for taxiing. If command post should signal a Coco alert, Bulli...