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![]() Singular Sensation Grant Achatz raises the curtain on his long-awaited Alinea
It's unlike anything you've ever seen, heard or tasted before. Seated
in an intimate room, you raise your eyebrows as the colors on the walls
change to complement the evening's twenty-seventh course. The server
places a shallow glass sculpture on your uncovered table--it's
one-of-a-kind--specifically designed to hold the food you'll soon place
in your mouth. Music enriches the tableau, beaming to your table with a
spotlight's precision, unheard by any other guest in the room. You look
down: within the glass dish rests a paper-thin disk of ice, delicately
infused with a balance of herbal extracts. It will melt into pure flavor
the moment it touches your tongue. This frozen wafer only means to
cleanse the palette--to prepare you for course twenty-eight.
This experience isn't fictional, it's Alinea, which just opened
at 1723 North Halsted. Chicago's newest four-star progressive American
restaurant takes its name from a typographical sign indicating "the
beginning of a new train of thought," and virtuoso chef Grant Achatz
intends to deliver just that.
After enjoying a celebrated stint at Evanston's Trio, and having
worked with food icons Thomas Keller and Charlie Trotter, Achatz is now
striking out on his own. "There is a culinary revolution happening
right now," Achatz says, "and I want Alinea to be a part of that."
In creating Alinea's beyond-eclectic menu, Achatz has used
centrifuges, wine presses, atomizers--even paint-stripping guns to turn
inspiration to reality. Another project is an anti-grill: a flattop that
cools and freezes with the efficiency of a standard stove.
"The innovations, the techniques, they're merely tools," Achatz
says. "We don't pride ourselves on technology. We pride ourselves on
flavor. In fact, I don't like people to know how we do things
sometimes. If you know how a magician does his tricks, it's not
magic."
Former feats from Achatz include dishes like dried crème brule,
which employed flavored powder and a solid caramel bubble he spent
months perfecting. There was also "virtual shrimp," which involved
guests closing their eyes, and misting their palate with the piquancy of
a shrimp dinner--without anything to chew or swallow. On Alinea's new
six- ($75), ten- ($110), or thirty- ($175) course menus, guests can
expect dishes ranging from "broccoli stem, crispy grapefruit, and wild
steelhead roe," to "puree of hazelnuts, curry, and capsule of savory
granola." To contrast, headlining one such exotic menu are three
familiar letters: "PB&J." It stands for what you think it does--but is
not at all what you'd expect.
It's precisely this twist--high-class chefdom meets Midwestern
upbringing--which gives Achatz a culinary fingerprint all his own. "I
grew up in a restaurant family; it's literally been a big part of my
life since I was five years old. Even when I was little I was always
trying things--wrapping pickles around French fries and that kind of
thing."
Indeed, after an hour discussing everything from the preparation of
"crispy strawberry with foie gras" to the painstaking arrangement of a
thirty-course meal, I enter his office to find a packet of Ramen noodles
neatly centered on his work desk.
"Your latest experiment?" I ask.
"Lunch," he says with a grin.
Achatz makes the case for all flavors in his cooking: from PB&J to
A-1--even ketchup can be transformed on one of his menus. He sees this
inclusive aspect as a necessary part of the progressive American cooking
he prides himself on. "Both the whimsy and the literal food we're
serving is very American. We're pulling our influences from all over.
It's not like what you find in Europe. They'd lynch you if you had a
glass of Burgundy in Boudreaux. It's the opposite here.
"I knew we were taking a huge risk here, because not only is
Alinea different, but it's different than even the most extreme
[restaurants]. I go to New York and see people who are trying to do
highly creative food, but I'm just not sure that it would work there.
In order to have very expressive art there has to be an element of
realism. There needs to be a core, and the Midwest has that."
Achatz considers food to be art and admits the opinion is a sharp
break with other four-star colleagues. It's not only the food, he
clarifies, but the dining experience which is art--an evening which
envelops the guest, stimulating all the senses at once. This is
reflected in Alinea's state-of-the-art Holosonic sound,
computer-controlled LED lights, motion sensors in the floor, and even
theatrical wings where servers prepare to greet their guests.
"When people think of art, a lot of people just think of the
visual expression of it. People who really know art talk about things
like texture and, of course, how it makes you feel. You have that with
food, plus all the sensations that come with eating it. It's physiology
of the body. When you go to the modern art institute, sure it might
emotionally affect you, but when you sit down to eat, your body is
actually changing. It's been proven. People are different people when
they start to eat."
Alinea opened last week to two months of solid bookings. People
are flying in from over the country with the specific goal of dining at
Alinea. What draws them, Achatz says, is what distinguishes food from
other creative forms--its fleeting nature and lasting impression.
"Why is it different? There are paintings in cathedrals that are
hundreds of years old, that millions of people have gone to
see--they're timeless. If I cook you a thirty-course meal, in four
hours it's gone. Nobody will ever see it again. Your meal is a
fingerprint. It's a very unique thing."
Also by J.C. Geiger
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