One of these foams is not like the other

I don’t understand the desire of high-minded diners to eat what is essentially flavored spit. The trend of noshing on foams infused with reductions seems to belong in the realm of conceptual or virtual eating -- a liminal state of food preparation where the meal is created to be dissolved, not digested. This is not a fad for folks who actually enjoy the gluttonous glory of calories consumption, nor a craze for those who enjoy the mastication phase of eating. All you get is flavor, not mass.

Ever since, El Bulli, Michelin’s top-rated restaurant in the world, perfected the art of foam-crafted dining, tiny bubbles have been seen as more than just the scum you skim. But even if I could get a reservation at the Spain-based restaurant, and if I had the 500 euros necessary to pay for the meal, it doesn't mean I would endorse the concept of flavored froths of air.

When I read I Blame the Patriarchy's "Garish Dinner of the Week" posting, I was glad to find someone who could explain foam's appeal.

The foam-as-food trend, invented a few years ago by that El Bulli guy in Spain, has hit Austin at last. Or maybe it's been here all along and I've eaten it 46 times but because I have chemo-brain it slipped my mind. But in any event, the other night at Zoot -- an upscaly joint on Lake Austin Blvd -- there appeared before me the above-pictured plate: crisp pork tenderloin, creamed spinach, and shrimp fritters. Shrimp 'essence' is what Zoot calls that pinkish scum you see bubbling up in the middle, and for some reason it was sort of delicious. …To make tasty shrimp scum, put a shrimp in a juicer. Combine it with gelatin. Insert the result in a whipped cream canister, and blast it onto a plate with nitrous oxide.