Why Some Shrimp Ravioli Should Be Left at the Dock

A few hits, one memorable miss, and what it means to eat with all five senses right here, right now.

When this was lobster instead of shrimp. Different protein, same broth—still no redemption. Photo: Diana Pérez (Instagram)

I’m a nerd. Specifically, a food nerd. It’s not just a hobby—it’s a vocation.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m driven by two deceptively simple questions: Why do we eat the foods we eat? Why do we drink the drinks we drink?

Eating as a Sensory Archive

Since stepping away from my roles as a food stylist and culinary producer—and later as a food editor at Food & Wine—I’ve leaned fully into what I call gastronomic investigation: a career rooted in researching the cultural history of food.

It’s work that sharpens my critical lens and reflects a deep, vocational commitment to thoughtful, discerning storytelling through cuisine. And that experience isn’t shaped solely by archives and libraries—it’s equally informed by the incredible range of dining experiences I seek out wherever I go.

Occasionally, when I want to deepen my library of flavors, textures, temperatures, aromas, and sensory memories, I leave my phone and camera behind. No photos. No notes. Just presence.

We humans are time-travelers by nature, always reliving the past or anticipating the future. But to access the eternal nowness of life, we must root ourselves in the present. That’s how I build my sensory archive.

Hits and Harbingers: Where NYC Is Getting It Right

Here in my hometown of New York, recent standouts include Taquería El Chato, where Chef Gerardo Alcaraz has achieved what I once believed was impossible: a trompo seasoned to tingle with heat and lovingly stacked—nay, designed—to stand alongside the finest in Mexico City and Puebla, where al pastor’s ancestor, taco árabe, flourished from its Iraqi roots.

Having lived in Alabama for work, I’ve also been watching Luther’s, a pop-up chicken shop at TV Eye in Queens. The verdict’s still out on their overnight-brined, sous-vide-cooked, soda-water-dredged crispy chicken sandwich—served with slaw slathered in Alabama white sauce—but all signs point to a harbinger worth tracking.

And then there’s Atomix, where a reimagined sundubu jjigae featuring sweet shrimp and razor clams softened with soy foam confirms what many already know: the Parks can do no wrong.

One Missed Opportunity, Three Visits Later

Meanwhile, even after a third visit in four years, I’d still stay farra-way from the shrimp ravioli in miso bonito bouillon at Farra. The restaurant nails the Tribeca fine dining aesthetic: dim, hushed, sleek—and somehow emotionally beige. I get what they’re going for. But with each visit, the question grows louder: Are they trying to be like Atera? I’m not sure. But it certainly feels like they’re leaning hard into that intellectual dining gallery aesthetic—tiny, curated, and bathed in a shade I like to call bleu-bleh.

As for the bouillon, which should delicately enhance the pasta and balance the sweetness of shrimp and ricotta?

If I’m being generous, I’d say: do the shrimp a favor and leave them be. A drizzle of arbequina—or better yet, columella—would be sublime here.

Because the bouillon?

Let’s just say… it veers a little too close to hot dog water for comfort.