The novelty of plummeting down the rabbit-hole is starting to wear off. Bazaar isn't so bizaare anymore. With that said, this won't be an ebullient post where I wax poetic about how my my senses are jacked on José Andrés rendition of Alice in Wonderland. The reason I go now is purely for the enjoyment of observing slack jawed expressions of Bazaar virgins.
A few dishes that I've missed from my past excursions:
The Nitrogen Caprihina that I've been lusting over? It's all for show. Smoke and mirrors. If you like overly spiked slushy, this may be your answer to sitting through the dreaded chickflick on Saturday night.
The Japanese Uni Buns are outrageous! Uni, jalapeno, tempura bits and avocado; fusion at its best.
There's something very raw and primordial about Bazaar's version of a very dirty martini. It's a sexy drink, especially with the spherical cherry you have to dig deep for. And this one pops!
The Watermelon Nigiri tastes as boring as it sounds. Foam belongs on the face for extraction of facial hair, not on food. There you have my sentiments on foam.
I'm torn about the Cotton Candy Foi Gras. How can anyone not find this uber-cute. Although I usually despise anything that reeks of cuteness. But the convenience of popping a bite-sized piece of foi wrapped in pink cotton candy elicits the sucker in me.
Maybe it's the ubiquitous pink or the over-saturated colors that play a key role in the decor. But I think I've had enough of Bazaar for the time being.