At the Met Gala of gastronomy, what gets passed around the tables?

It began not with a whisper but a thump. The unmistakable bassline of ‘Satisfaction’ shook the floor as Italian electro house DJ Benny Benassi took to the console. Behind him stood Massimo Bottura, clad in a white T-shirt, an olive bandana, and his signature grin. “We are happy to announce our new DJ name,” he said to a room full of culinary aristocracy. “You can call us Benny and Bot,” he said as Benassi pumped his fist, riding the drop.

Together, the two Modenese icons fed off each other’s energy the way the Rolling Stones’ Jagger and Richards must have in their prime. And just like that, the dance floor was theirs.

We are at The World’s 50 Best Restaurants 2025, held this year in Piedmont, Italy, the land of Barolo wines, white truffles, and culinary ambition. And this after-party is the culmination of the past four days, when the streets of Turin were filled with chefs in tailored linens, wine glasses in hand, moving from event to event in what can only be described as the Met Gala of gastronomy.

At such an event, what is it that goes around on the table? Intimidating as it may sound, what do you serve a room full of the world’s best chefs?

The short answer: caviar, pizza, and tortellini. The long answer: carefully choreographed indulgence rooted not in extravagance but in emotion.

At the after-party, I made a beeline for the Kaviari counter, where generous spoonfuls of the prized Ossetra caviar were dropped onto waiting wrists. Danish chef Eric Vildgaard and Odette’s Julien Royer joined in for a round of bumps, while nearby, Japanese chef Yoshihiro Narisawa (of the two-Michelin-starred Narisawa) sipped sake with his son.

A few steps away, chef Ton aka Thitid Tassanakajohn, who was the only chef with two restaurants in the top 50 (Bangkok’s Nusara and Le Du), stood alongside his best friend Pichaya Pam Soontornyanakij, who was also crowned World’s Best Female Chef.

On the far end of the room, a leg of jamón Ibérico glistened under the spotlight as a slicer worked with surgical precision. In line, I spotted culinary rockstars Ferran Adria, Bruno Verjus, and Rasmus Munk, mini plates in hand, waiting patiently, proof that even the gods of fine dining will queue for cured pork.

A few feet over, a Parmigiano-Reggiano altar had formed. Two wheels, one aged 24 months, the other 36, were being chipped away and drizzled with balsamic vinegar. It was umami in stereo. A piece hit the floor. Alain Ducasse picked it up. Someone joked it now had three Michelin stars, and for a second, everyone believed it.

Then Bottura made his move.

From the back, without notice, servers began sending out bowls of tortellini. Not just any tortellini, but Bottura’s signature version from Osteria Francescana: hand-rolled egg pasta cooked in capon broth, then served in a creamy sauce of 36-month-old Parmigiano-Reggiano made from heritage Modenese cow’s milk. A dish so precise and poetic it has twice been named Plate of the Year. And even that night, it lived up to its reputation. There were no phones out. Just heads bowed over bowls, as if in prayer.

The World’s 50 Best Restaurants night is to chefs and the food-adjacent crowd what Salone is to anyone interested in design: they just have to be here. This year, the event took place inside a former Fiat factory, which had now transformed into a cathedral of culinary achievement, spanning chefs from every continent and restaurants from 22 countries.

“This is the most beautiful thing that has ever happened in my life until now, really,” said a visibly emotional Mitsuharu ‘Micha’ Tsumura, minutes after Maido, his Nikkei restaurant in Lima, was declared ‘The World’s Best Restaurant 2025’. As the crowd roared, his friend and fellow Peruvian chef Virgilio Martínez embraced him with a kiss on the cheek.

Backstage, the chatter was half relief, half envy. Gaggan Anand, whose Bangkok restaurant ranked number six, turned to me and asked, “What do you think of the list?” Then, smirking, he added, “Next year we will work harder.”

In the hall, chefs clinked glasses of Barbaresco. But the real feast was yet to come. At the time of the after-after-party, the organisers had one final surprise.

A curtain dropped to reveal a warehouse pulsing with light. And from seemingly nowhere appeared Franco Pepe, the undisputed king of pizza. The number one pizzaiolo in the world had travelled from Caiazzo with his dough, his sauces, and a wood-fired oven he had shipped in for himself. Just flour, flame, and fury.  A thousand pizzas, blistered and bubbling, each topped with a little magic.

I lined up for my sixth slice of Pepe’s upside-down margherita. Standing nearby, chef Supaksorn Jongsiri of Thailand’s award-winning Sorn murmured, almost to himself, “This is what I came for.”

And then, because every great night needs one final moment of complete chaos, chef Himanshu Saini grabbed the mic and launched into Nirvana’s ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’. “Hello, hello, hello, how low?” he howled. The room erupted. Chefs shouted, laughed, clapped. Some jumped up on chairs.

“Bro, can you take a picture of us with Bittor?” asked Dubai chef Mohammed Orfali. He and his brothers, Wassim and Omar, huddled next to grill maestro Bittor Arginzoniz of Asador Etxebarri, who had just experienced the bittersweet honour of being named world number two for the second year in a row.

Somewhere around 3 am, ties were loosened, jackets flung over chairs, and Micha was seen standing on a chair, arms raised, shouting, “Viva Cucina,” Italian for “long live the kitchen”.

At events like these, where the best chefs who cook for a living and the best critics who eat for a living converge, what is it that makes it to our table? And what does it really mean to feed the people who feed the world? Sometimes, amid trophies, toasts, flashbulbs, and fanfare, it is easy to forget what food is really for. 

Turns out, it is not about foams, foraging, or fermentation. It is only about salt, fat, and soul. It is caviar on your wrist, a hot slice in your hand, a sliver of aged cheese with the perfect umami, and a bassline that brings the house down. And yes, a little bit of ‘Satisfaction’.