Should a meal be a cerebral activity, an exercise in mental dexterity and one that challenges and confronts. Or should its main purpose be in bringing pleasure to the diner by offering excellent service, flawlessly cooked food encompassing familiar tastes and flavours, enjoyed in a comfortable, salubrious setting?

Because I had not yet been jolted out of my culinary comfort zone I didn’t feel that I was in the position to make a valued judgement. This was not for lack of trying. For years I had failed to execute the necessary traits of patience and perseverance to secure a table at the two bastions of cutting edge cuisine - El Bulli and The Fat Duck. As a consequence I knew that I would have to widen my search and this led me to Mugaritz. From all the reviews, forum discussions and word of mouth recommendations it seemed a natural choice. The credentials of the chef, Adoni Aduriz, appeared ideally suited to what I was looking for - he has been hailed as a culinary wizard who takes a scientific approach to cooking (a protegee of Ferran Adria). Aduriz even went so far as doing a two year stint at a liver research clinic so that he could better understand the complex workings and composition of this organ. He later applied these principles to foie gras and has been consequently hailed as the “foie gras king”.

Mugaritz is situated in the outskirts of San Sebastian a 30 minute drive from the centre, past some rather depressing housing projects and up a winding hill. Nothing strikes you as unusual when you first enter the space, with its high ceilings and rustic yet contemporary decor. However when the door slams menacingly behind you and the chairs let out an angry screech when you take your seat an eerie mood envelopes, one that is strangely unsettling. A fork hanging from a noose in the centre of the table and a series of place cards with the words “150 minutes…to submit” and “150 minutes…to rebel” further testify that this is going to be no ordinary experience. From a trip to the ladies I also notice the strange inclusion of toothbrushes, am I supposed to brush my teeth between courses?

Despite these unusual touches the wait staff immediately put us at ease with their gracious and friendly manner. We collectively decide on the longer tasting menu out of the two and wait in anticipation for the theatre to begin.

Unlike Arzak’s exuberant amuses bouches, Adoni sends out a succession which have a more serious and restrained character. Subtlety of taste is exemplified in a silky garlic consommé which elicits positive comments all round. The first course continues the minimalist theme - a simple salad composed of lovage leafs, parsley puree, with some white truffles shavings. Sublime.

However just as an air of relaxed informality descends on our table we are confronted with a Japanese delicacy- sea urchin gonads covered in a soy lactose infused with ginger. Unlike the previous nights fish offal offering, Monkfish liver, which is integrated into the dish in a familiar way, the gonads covered in a milky slime possess an alien texture. It is not a truly unpleasant taste due to the predominance of ginger which masks a lot of the ingredients, however I wouldn’t want seconds.

Crushed potatoes, broken eggs and vegetable coal dressed with a garlic protein follows and proves to be an interesting expression on a traditional combination. Spanish chefs seem to be notoriously good with eggs and these were no exception - runny yolks and firm hard whites. The truffle infused potatoes are glossy and moreish. The vegetable coal is also surprisingly edible - rich, dark and musky, yet there was no discernible taste which revealed its original source. It left me pondering what I had just put in my mouth.

Two exceptionally flavourless fish dishes arrived hereafter. The first being Sea Scallops with amaranth in a clay sauce. The clay, as you would imagine had a non descript, claggy texture and also had the undesirable effect of sticking to the roof of your mouth. At least it was now clear why the toothbrushes may have come in handy. An equally disappointing dish of hake (a substitute for the rouget) was bland and dull, even with the saffron infusion. It prompted one of the diners to question the use of such a cheap fish, one which is cheap for good reason - its not very good.

The Escalope of foie gras helped to partially restore my faith in the kitchen. It was the most eagerly anticipated dish of the evening and exceeded all expectations. Adoni’s knowledge rendered this usually rich, fatty organ into a feather light,spongy one whilst still managing to retain its decadent glorious character. It is the best preparation of foie gras I have ever tasted.

It was the following course however, which I took issue with. I’m not at all squeamish, I’ll put almost anything in my gob providing it tastes good, yet the next dish truly stumped me - lamb’s trotter braised in a salted toffee of lactose and fresh cream and a ragu of beets. Incidentally the idea of the trotter did not actually offend or repel, however the first taste did, which was gloopy, gelatinous and strangely flavourless. It provoked an even stronger reaction amongst my fellow diners who put their cutlery down in unison and pronounced it inedible. I ploughed through hoping that I would discover some hidden meaning lurking behind its sinewy mass, is the chef trying to tell us something, is he fucking with us? Maybe he knows that most people will send it back relatively untouched, is this what he wants? We toy with all these possibilities when trying to understand the intentions behind this seriously vile concoction.

Our thoughts were interrupted by a plate of well selected and balanced cheeses accompanied by a pretty side dish of condiments. Thus affording a brief moment of respite before the onslaught of deserts. A pistachio cake with an ice thawing, a kind of frothy melting snowball. The taste is subtle and delicate and is shortly followed by the second desert - grounds of espresso coffee upon chilled cocoa juice, chicory cream with farmhouse natural milk skin. Both deserts possess a lightness and simplicity to them which is a refreshing change from the usual offerings heavily reliant on cream and sugar.

Whilst you might not relish every single dish that Adoni creates his food has a real poetry to it, which is at times unsettling, at times unpalatable, at times enjoyable and sometimes all three. I wrongly assumed that because he trained under Ferran Adria he would be producing culinary fireworks - exploding deserts, flamboyant platings, dreamt up in a science lab. Instead his dishes have a refined and pure sensibility to them which is so Zen-like it verges on the pretentious. The flavours are sometimes overly subtle to the point of nothing going on, in particular the fish and seafood courses, however I can decipher the integral point he is trying to make; which is the purity of ingredients, untainted by over saucing and seasoning.

Mugaritz did transport me out of my comfort zone and perhaps not in the way that I had anticipated. However, whilst it made me contemplate different flavors, tastes and textures I found the experience ultimately lacking. The philosophy and thought process behind his creations are intriguing yet the food itself is underwhelming. This leads me back to the original question; the cerebral versus the enjoyable. Of course, for a meal to be truly great it must have elements of both.

Choosing a restaurant in San Sebastian is unfeasibly challenging the choices are so abundant. After all, this is a city that can boast the highest number of Michelin stars per square metre on the planet and that’s before including the more modest yet excellent establishments - the pintxos bars, the cider houses, the restaurants specialising in Basque cuisine………

Nevertheless a decision had to be reached and Arzak presented itself as the natural choice. Its revered chef, Juan Mari Arzak, is regarded as the godfather of Basque nouvelle cuisine and commands the kind of adulation and respect reserved for holy deities. He is credited as having inspired an entire generation of Spanish chefs including Ferran Adria, chef at the controversial and acclaimed restaurant El Bulli.

From recent reports I had assumed that Juan Mari was semi-retired (he must be in his 60’s) and it was now his daughter, Elena, that manned the kitchen. However when we arrive I catch a glimpse of an amiable, father christmas like figure, dressed in his whites which I instantly recognised as the great man himself. Despite being regarded as one of the greatest chefs on the planet he exhibits no air of pretension and this is reflected in the general ambience of his restaurant. Unlike so many Michelin 3 star establishments it does not elicit hushed conversations between diners who are paranoid about their table manners and as a result feel permanently “on edge”. Rather it has a refreshing informality, possibly due to the predominantly local clientele who appear to know the chef personally as opposed to foreign visitors ticking of another restaurant on the holy tour of Michelin eateries.

The dining space with its wood panneling, plush red chairs and spacious tables exudes warmth and is so comfortable and soothing it’s akin to stepping back into the womb. The mainly female wait staff gracefully glide round in grey smocks which resemble creations made by an avant- garde Belgian fashion designer. Initially I detect a hint of surliness about them but my friend Lauren assures me that these traits can be characteristically common among the Spanish, who do not possess the natural effusiveness of other Southern Europeans.

Naturally we all opt for the multi-course tasting menu. Before the dishes even arrive our taste buds are set on fire by a selection of delectable amuse-bouches which are so beautiful they could be miniature art forms.

Despite being a set menu the diner sometimes gets the opportunity to choose from a couple of options. The first course is a toss-up between oysters or foie gras wrapped in zucchini. I opt for the latter which explodes in my mouth and leaves a grin emblazoned across my face. The taste is like a bolt of lightning, completely unexpected due to the sweetness and mousse like consistency of the foie gras, I can detect the grainy-ness of the sugar, not a natural combination with liver but one that is bizarrely harmonious. One of my dinner companions offers me one of his oysters atop a potato truffle mash and whilst visually pleasing it pales into insignificance in comparison. The oyster seems lost in the truffle although I appreciate the briny aftertaste.

A dish of langoustines with a sweet corn sauce adds an air of confident simplicity to proceedings. The combination of flavours work in perfect synergy with each other.

The “flower egg” with truffle oil and mushrooms is one of the signature dishes The mark of any kitchen should be how they cook their eggs (it’s amazing how many mess up). Arzak employs an unusual method by wrapping the egg in plastic wrap, seasoning it with truffle oil and duck fat, letting it rest for 1 day and then poaching it. I appreciate that this sounds like a bit of a kefuffle however I can assure you the results are sheer perfection - the yolk being runny whilst the whites having the perfect firmness.

Monkfish liver according to my pal, Andrew is regarded as a delicacy in Japan and is eaten as sashimi. It has recently crept into European cooking and is quickly gaining reputation as the foie gras of the sea. It was used in our next course - Monkfish with a Monkfish liver sauce. The flesh was uncharacteristically tender which led us to believe that it had been blow torched on the outside The liver sauce added a buttery almost earthy dimension which the robust monkfish could easily withstand.

For my meat dish I opted for the duck which was splendidly rare. It was reminiscent of carpaccio, but game-ier, accompanied with vegetables which had a strange charcoal coating - more blow-torching. The other option was Venison which I also tried and was cooked to perfection.

Desserts rolled out in a perfect procession. There were so many that this review would never end if I listed all of them. The ones however that will remain permanently etched in my memory were; burnt puff pastry with salted raspberries, chocolate hamburgers, and a chocolate tortilla. Each and everyone was fabulous, arriving like living, breathing, surrealist artworks.

Everything about Arzak conspires to create the perfect experience. The food possesses a distinctive character and even though you can detect the french influences (Arzak trained with some of the greatest chefs in France - Paul Bocuse in Lyon, Troisgros in Rhone, Senderens in Paris, and Boyer in Reims) it still retains its Basque roots. It offers surprise and novel elements without comprising taste and overall enjoyment. The flavours are balanced and the techniques flawless. The service relaxed yet efficient.

You can probably decipher from this review that I enjoyed this meal, yet whilst this is correct it wouldn’t be a true reflection of my sentiments. It is difficult to convey my true thoughts as the number of superlatives required would make you feel queasy. So I shall simply say I loved this meal, it is one of the best I have eaten and if I had one last wish before I died it would be to dine at Arzak.

My ambition to visit San Sebastian has finally been realised and it proved to be one the most extraordinary and colourful culinary experiences I have ever encountered. The following posts will attempt to capture some of the highlights, notably - a knockout meal at Arzak, a challenging and eye-opening experience at Mugaritz, a simple yet sublime meal at an exceptional fish restaurant called Kaia, where I had my first taste of elvers, baby eels which resemble little worms (thanks for the recommendation Monkey Gland ) and finally a tapas style crawl round the bars of San Sebastian.

The culinary adventure begins with a painfully early start ensuring that we arrive in the city in time for a spot of lunch. Depositing our luggage at the remarkably beautiful Villa Soro we venture onto the streets of San Sebastian looking for our first culinary fix.

We embark on a distinctly Spanish ritual known as txikiteo which entails going from bar to bar, drinking wine and devouring pintxos, small tapas style Hors d’Oeuvres which the bar owners proudly display at the front of their bars. We are confronted with an array of exquisitely colourful bite-size creations which have rightly earned the name “miniature cuisine.” Slices of oily, sweet iberian ham rest atop a selection of delicate pastries and breads. Fish and seafood, which is a speciality of the region, features heavily too. I am introduced to a tortilla sandwich by my friend Lauren who developed an addiction to them after living in Madrid. One of my favourite and most knowledgeable foodie companions Andrew, who kept me entertained all weekend with lurid details of his sex drive and toilet habits, waxes lyrical about a sausage which resembles black pudding - declaring it one of the finest he had ever tasted.

It would have been easy to have carried on gorging all afternoon however we had to restrain ourselves as we had a 7 course meal awaiting us later that evening at Arzak. Instead we wander round San Sebastian, first strolling along the sea front where surfers brave the waves and then into the old quarter with its cobbled, narrow streets

Our trip coincides with the build up to carnival, locals nonchalantly saunter past dressed in all manner of get-ups ranging from bee costumes to Arab Sheikhs. Needless to say it is a surreal experience which is heightened by San Sebastian’s bizarre, eclectic architecture which embraces an interesting mixture of styles ranging from Gothic to ultra contemporary. In many respects this is a city of contradictions. It has a dark almost sinister feel due to some of its austere structures yet it is counter balanced with a lightness and energy by virtue of being so near to the sea.

It becomes increasingly apparent why such an interesting and experimental food movement developed in this particular region. It has a real magic and strange appeal to it, one that would reveal itself to me over the coming days.