How uncanny instincts turned a style maverick into the Björk of food.  Photograph by Hugo Yu for The New Yorker At a classic dinner party, one might expect a table adorned with brass candelabras, crocheted doilies, and a floral centerpiece—the usual fare. But what if the dinner table could become a backdrop for art, whimsy, and style? In the age of Instagram, the designer Laila Gohar has “made a career out of elevating something functional—in her case, food—to rarefied aesthetic heights,” Molly Fischer writes, in a delightful piece in this week’s issue. Among Gohar’s recent creations: “a mortadella the size of a telephone pole,” “a hula-hoop-wide raspberry tart,” and “a rope of braided mozzarella the length of a banquet table.” Fischer paints a vivid portrait of Gohar’s artistic journey, from being “a difficult child” who was “not into rules” in Cairo, to directing “jolie-laide assemblages” in collaborations with Prada, Hermès, and Gucci. Her Surrealist creations serve as an icebreaker, an entry point into a state of wonder—Drake once introduced Gohar by calling her the Björk of food. Yet food itself, according to Gohar, is “not the point.” “I basically exist for beauty,” she says. “I think it’s why we’re here on this earth.” —Jessie Li, newsletter editor  Photographs by Hugo Yu for The New Yorker and Adrianna Glaviano | 
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