The first time you go, you’ll find yourself deliriously lost. The Bazaar, in the SLS Hotel, is magically absurd, a fun house of possibilities, absolutely delicious and visually decadent. You drift. You circle. You won’t know the Rojo room from the Blanco room, and you surely won’t understand the half-hidden Saam room (tasting menu, fancier service). The food, by America’s greatest Spanish chef, José Andrés, isn’t the rustic dishes he learned to make back in Catalonia. It’s Spanish food that’s lost its exotic ethnicity, become whimsical, playful, and even molecular—mad-scientist stuff. Andrés prepares dishes that are absolutely accessible to American tastes; he’s decoded our dining DNA. His traditional tapas include ibérico ham, sheep’s-milk cheese, and piquillo peppers, all Spanish staples, but no smelly, fishy stuff, which is fine with me. There’s what he calls new tapas, including a play on cheesesteak made with thin baked pita, Cheddar foam, and rare Kobe beef, a combination I never encountered in my South Philly days. There’s a slew of liquefied, bite-size doodads that taste (and sometimes look) like cherries, mozzarella, cherry tomatoes, and olives but are actually science fiction versions of them. Once, long ago, in a place only a few miles away, Wolfgang Puck made fancy dining informal. José Andrés has made it insanely, totally fun.

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