4

them about cracking still more coconuts

to use as vessels. The peeled coconuts

from the night before were shredded and

milked, then left for the cream to rise.

Shewry was gutted he wasn’t there to

help, but was reassured by what he knew

about his colleagues. “Chefs always

come through for each other,” he said.

“Especially chef friends the calibre of

the group I was travelling with.”

At about 5pm, with two hours until

the start of service, Shewry showed up.

A doctor had been sent to his room with

an injection. The chef still felt weak,

but he was upright. With guests arriving

and an iPhone torch as his beacon in the

dimming light, he began spooning off the

cream that had risen to the top of the

coconut milk.

Around him, the kitchen swung into

its well-choreographed dance. Redzepi tied

hanks of agave fibres into nests that would

support Sánchez and Bang’s oyster atole.

Elena Reygadas tweezed petals onto the

fruit-stuffed banana that Matt Orlando

had made. Roš helped plate Alejandro

Ruiz and Vladimir Mukhin’s venison

tostada. These were some of the best chefs

in the world, each well accustomed to

running the show. Yet, in that moving

moment, they were all just cooks, helping

one another put out beautiful food.

As dinner progressed towards dessert,
Shewry put the finishing touches on the
coconut dish, whipping the cream and
gradually adding sugar. Vallejo was busy
with his own task, but at one point he
noticed the container his colleague was
reaching into. “Is that sugar?” he asked.
Shewry confirmed it was, then paused.
He reached a finger into the container
for a taste. “Bloody hell,” he said.
It was a mistake familiar to legions
of home cooks: he had confused salt for
sugar. Even then, his colleague had his
back. Turning to the journalist observing
the exchange, Vallejo asked, “You don’t
ILLUSTRATION MOLLY MENDOZA have to write that, do you?”●

GOURMET TRAVELLER 91