He poured boiled potatoes, their cooking liquid, cream and butter into a Thermomix, which heats and blends at the same time. Three minutes later it was done. He inserted two capsules of nitrous oxide into a whipped-cream dispenser and out came the most luxe potato cream, or foam. There has been much written recently by jaded foodies about foam being "over." Yeah? Well have they ever had a good one? Less foamy than creamy (there are no bubbles), it's a sauce of pure ingredient whipped with air, splendid solo or as a complement to meat.

Then, just to show he could, Myhrvold donned blue cryo gloves that extended above his elbows, a blue cryo apron and a welder's mask and retrieved a canister of liquid nitrogen. "Stand back," he said. "This is 321 degrees below zero." And like a mad chemist he poured two or three cups' worth into a plastic bucket. It steamed and smoked like the ghost scene from "Hamlet," and he squirted a golf ball of Reddi-wip into a ladle, immersed it in the nitrogen for 10 seconds and offered it to me. Freezing but not tongue-igniting on the outside, lovely sweet cream on the inside. Steam poured out of my nose. "I probably should have made it with real cream," he said, but I didn't think so. Best Reddi-wip I've ever had.

Then the parade of meats began. Pork bellies cut with a perfect red-eye gravy made with espresso extracted from a cold toddy maker (the lowest-tech item used all day) followed by the lamb chops, swathed in the potato cream, and formerly tough flat-iron beef -- still medium rare after 36 hours -- perhaps the most delectable slab o' meat on record, accompanied by a beef jus made from simmering an entire brisket. Myhrvold took a Sears Craftsman blowtorch to a gray lamb chop -- even more gorgeous. (Note to self: torch the bone, too.) Seconds on lamb. Seconds on beef. A little more potato cream, now with garlic sauce, now with beef jus. I won't begin to go into the ice cream.

Myhrvold and I sat in his dining room listening to our digestive tracts. "You could say I'm this retired nerd torturing food in his kitchen, but I'm trying to keep it as natural as possible," he said. "All this fancy equipment is just to better control what's essentially in the food."

SMOOTH OPERATOR: One of Nathan's less expensive gadgets ($2,995 at Pacojet.com) is used primarily for turning fresh fruit into sorbets without the need for stabilizers. Developed in the early 80's by a Swiss engineer to whip up mousses, soups and sauces, the Pacojet has an extraordinary motor that makes it multifunctional, allowing chefs to perform tasks as assorted as grinding meats, whipping up ice cream to order and pulverizing quail bones.

Pea Soup Amuse Bouche

1 1/4 cups fresh or frozen peas

1 cup cold vegetable stock

1/4 cup heavy cream

Salt to taste. 1. In a blender, combine peas and stock and purée. Strain through a fine mesh sieve into a small pot, pressing on solids to extract as much of the liquid as possible. Add cream and heat slowly over medium-high heat, whisking until soup reaches 130 degrees on an instant-read thermometer (do not boil). Adjust heat and cook peas for a few minutes at 130 until any starchy or bitter taste disappears.

2. Add additional cream if desired and salt to taste, remembering soup should be sweet. Just before serving, froth soup with an immersion blender and serve in espresso cups. Makes 1* cups, enough for 4 small servings; double recipe for larger servings.