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It would appear that John Lydon, the former Johnny Rotten, will not be venturing into chefhood like Franz Ferdinand’s Alex Kapranos anytime soon. Jeff Gordinier of Details magazine has a delightful new interview with Lydon online, which includes this wonderful exchange: LYDON: I bought this stupid juicer. Oh God, the mess I made. GORDINIER: So, um, you make juice? LYDON: Yeah, well, I have to now, because I bought the damn thing. Sixty dollars’ worth of bleedin’ nonsense! It’s impossible to keep clean. I’ll tell you what it is—it’s a harbinger of mold and fungus.
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Adrià, Ferran. Spanish chef of appropriately surrealist, Dali-esque mien who functions as a lightning rod in the Food Snob debate over whether MOLECULAR GASTRONOMY is bracingly innovative or overwhelmed by gimmickry. The popularizer of the vegetable FOAMS that reviewers loved in Spain in 1998 but jadedly condemn in America now, Adrià, who operates out of a coastal Catalan resort called El Bulli (The Bulldog), combines a DayGlo aesthetic with a FERNAND POINT fealty to getting the most flavor out of his ingredients, resulting in such weird-ass but surprisingly edible creations as a sardine skeleton enshrouded in cotton candy and skinless green-pea raviolis that look like Dr. Seuss egg yolks. I clocked some Ferran Adrià influence in those fruit soups that we sucked down from medical syringes.