I was watching an episode of Anthony Bourdain: Parts Unknown recently, and he was in Vegas at a fancy José Andrés restaurant-within-a-restaurant that had roughly two and a half seats and likely charged hundreds upon hundreds of dollars for a single meal. Bourdain was presented with an "egg" that was not an egg, but was, in fact, some kind of truffle dish made to LOOK like an egg. It looked really good. I would like to eat that one day. The problem, of course, is that I never will.
Slate once made fun of food writers and TV people who ventured over to Spain to eat at the world-famous El Bulli restaurant, all so they could tell you about eating at a place you'll never get within 50 miles of even seeing (the restaurant is now closed for good). That "I Ate at El Bulli" syndrome has now mutated and branched out to any number of fabulous, utterly inaccessible places around the globe: Noma in Denmark, Alinea in Chicago, etc. The shrines are multiplying. These are all $200-a-head joints run by some modest-but-insane savant (often Spanish) working with 68 dead-silent acolytes in a pristine kitchen/lab, and the chef is always a man hell-bent on using food to change your PERCEPTIONS of the universe, and the media follow suit in praising their efforts. "It looks like an ordinary strawberry, and then you take a bite and realize… CARROT PUREE. O ho ho, such whimsy!"