Hollywood stars, Silicon Valley billionaires and us. OFM joins the ultimate night at the greatest restaurant on the planet – a champagne last supper at El Bulli

I am still not sure why El Bulli made me cry. Or at least how it magicked a hot tear to my eye. It wasn't the intensity of taste, with shifting textures and notes that lasted longer than Pavarotti's C. It wasn't that I felt I had to close my eyes in a crowded room to savour and surf every wave of flavour. It wasn't even that "peas 2011" tasted more like my first peas than in any dish I've eaten since I was seven. Nor was it, honestly, the toasty...

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