http://luckypeach.com/fantastic-mr-fox/

The name Ubuntu, Dawson tells me, comes from an ancient word and philosophy that means, “I am what I am because of who we all are.” It’s an apt way to describe any restaurant, but especially this one.

After Fox and I finish talking, I stick around for dinner. I order the lavender-sugared marcona almonds—the same almonds that Frank Bruni ate at Ubuntu{12}—I wonder what it would have been like to eat them in Napa in 2008, instead of in Santa Monica in 2014, and I wonder if they would have tasted different, or more perfect somehow. And it occurs to me that maybe I’m missing the point. Maybe food is supposed to disappear, and a meal shouldn’t be around forever—shouldn’t live on in thousands of Yelp reviews and eGullet and Eater posts and photographs—analyzed and praised and hyped ad infinitum. Maybe a night should be allowed to be over, and a meal should be allowed to end.