Alinea, Chicago, IL

It was magic in the middle of September. It was everything I’ve been hoping for and dreaming of for the better part of my adult life- a culmination, of sorts, an ascension into an adulthood that came with an ache in my wallet realizing that I was at the helm of this experience. Just me, the Bedfellow, and Grant Achatz one night for a few brief hours, a reservation made on a giddy whim in the heat of July in a sparsely decorated sublet. Alinea came and went as smoothly as its service. We were seated next to the worst dinner party, as it were, a guy and his three prisoners. Someone asked how many times he’d been there- “Oh, probably a dozen,” before he accosted the sommelier. For Alinea, I would easily do the same.20150917_211606Down the dark red hall, the world opened up into the well-oiled wizardry of the kitchen. I can’t remember a time, not the Macy’s Christmas displays, not Bloomingdale’s, not Sadaharu Aoki or Pierre Herme, that I have pressed my nose up against a glass panel with such wonder like this, and certainly not with a glass of champagne. There we stood watching the orchestration take place before we ascended. Continue reading “Alinea, Chicago, IL”