Touring Chicago One Bite at a Time

Day 1 - Perennial:


Day One: Perennial
The rain rhythmically thumped against the roof of our taxi. As people ran for shelter, a sense of urgency filled the air – a need to be somewhere. A need to…eat. It was our first night in Chicago, having just arrived at our hotel at 5:35 for our 5:30 reservations at Perennial, a “seasonally-driven” (restaurant-speak phrase of the decade) establishment only blocks away from the Mainstage Theater for our Second City show that evening at eight. 5:58. My anticipation grew as we walked into the restaurant nearly 30 minutes late. This was the kick-off to our food focused long weekend, and not even the whether was going to derail our enjoyment.

After being immediately seated at a comfortable table in the back corner of the restaurant, we were asked our water preference. Water preference? Would I like tap, sparkling, bottled, spring, etc.? I went for the boring tap, but this being the first time I was asked what kind of water I would prefer, I thought it was a nice gesture. Drink orders were placed, and since I don’t drink alcohol, one of the x-factors of a restaurant for me is how they are able to accommodate non-alcoholic patrons. Happily, our server said he could whip up a drink (I forgot the name) that was a combination of tropical fruit juices such as papaya and pineapple and other liquids of which I’m nearly positive was sparkling water. The drink was nice, fruity, and refreshing. After our drinks were served, the waiter asked if we were going to the Second City show at eight. After we said we were, he said he would personally make sure to get us out at no later than 7:15. Here is where I’m going to comment on the service on a whole for the entire night: Fantastic. From food suggestions, to attentiveness without being obtrusive, to timing it perfectly at getting 4 courses to us and check paid by 7:15, the service at Perennial may have been their strongest attribute.

The breadbasket was served, which held two warm pretzel rolls and lightly whipped butter. The pretzel bread was deliciously salty and tasted like a warm soft pretzel. My Dad and I each began our meal with the very much in-season sweet corn soup with spoon bread and corn relish ($8). A heated bowl was presented in front of us with a square of corn bread. On one side of the corn bread was the corn relish, which was basically sweet corn kernels, and on the other side was what was described to us as “popcorn powder.” The popcorn powder was a white powder, and although I didn’t ask, I would be willing to bet it was dehydrated popped corn. The server then poured the creamy corn broth over the aforementioned items, and the aroma was intoxicating. Individually, everything tasted just fine. The spoon bread (what I would call corn bread) had a crisp exterior that gave way to a moist, dense interior. The corn kernels and popcorn tasted just as they should – like corn. But, what brought it all together was the broth. It was rich, almost bisque-like; with hints of what I thought was sherry. Altogether, with the broth soaking into the bread and the kernels provided the much needed pop to the otherwise smooth textured dish, this dish, for me, was the food equivalent of late August; and it was a warm start to a soggy weathered night.

Following the soup, we were brought our shared appetizer: Beef Tartar with Horseradish cream, roasted tomatoes, and quail yolk ($10). Now, I will preface this by saying that this is my first time having beef tartar. But, my first experience left me shrugging my shoulders in indifference. The tartar was served with toasted brioche points. I broke the quail egg yolk, which was being coddled atop the tartar, and took one bite of the tartar by itself. It was good, but not mind-blowing. Not knowing much about tartar, I half-wondered if most of its enjoyment comes from the texture. I only got faint hints of a beefy, mineral flavor, but it was more subdued than I had imagined. When taking everything in together, I felt the tartar got lost in the horseradish cream and richness of the yolk. The roasted tomatoes were fine, but, like the other ingredients, seemed to overshadow the star. This dish was very rich, and I was glad that it was shared. I’m sure this won’t be my last venture into beef tartar, but I’d wish the beef would be more pronounced. Who knows, maybe tartar just isn’t my thing.

After a 10-minute wait, our entrees were served. My Dad, always a sucker for a good piece of halibut, went with the Poached Alaskan Halibut with clams, chorizo, leeks, smoked onions, and spicy tomato broth ($26). I didn’t have a bite, but he said it was “very good.” Here is when I noticed Perennial’s strange quirk – they really, really like the serving method of pouring broth over your dish at the table. Not only did it happen to our soup and my Dad’s fish, but I also noticed on two more dishes that other restaurant goers had (both other fish dishes). Not that this method of serving is a bad thing, but it was just something I found a bit overdone. Anyway, I ordered the Organic Becker Lane Pork Belly with grilled peaches, kale, thyme doughnuts, and peach gastrique ($22). In all honesty, I’ve never had pork belly as my main entrée before (I know…a meal full of firsts!). Though, if this is what all pork belly entrees are like, I think I found yet another part of the pig I love! Having known that pork belly is usually very fatty; my main fear was that it would be a big glob of fat. I couldn’t be more wrong. The belly was nicely crisp on the outside, and the crispness gave way to tender, juicy meat. There was only a thin layer of noticeable fat around the outside of the piece of meat, but the best way to describe it would be it someone took pulled pork, and put it in block form. Ok…that might not be the best description, but needless to say, it was delicious. It was served with a thick slice of grilled peach, with its sugars caramelizing nicely and the sweetness cutting the richness of the pork belly. The kale on the side was fine, and it reminded me a lot of braised collard greens. In fact, in keeping with the porky goodness of the dish, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was braised in the rendered pork fat. All in all, a very satisfying, expertly cooked piece of pork belly with a nice, fruity compliment.

Too full? Probably. Too full for dessert? Not quite. I went for the Chocolate Malt, which consisted of a chocolate fudge brownie, malt ice cream, fried ganache, and raspberry syrup ($7). On the other hand, my Dad went a little south for dessert and chose The Brazilian, with brown butter cake, cachaca pineapples, ginger popsicles, coconut sorbet, and pina colada sauce ($7). I liked my dessert all right, but the flavors were all a little muted. There was malt powder around the cake and malt ice cream, but even with all the supposed maltiness, I still failed to identify anything but sweet, fudgy chocolate. Not that nothing is wrong with sweet, fudgy chocolate, but I was looking for something a bit more. On the other hand, my Dad’s dessert was really delicious. Though the description is long-winded, it all came together beautifully. Taking together the ginger popsicles with the coconut sorbet and brown butter cake turned what could have been an overly sweet dessert into a dish of contrasts: cold (ginger popsicles and coconut sorbet) and warm (brown butter cake); sweet (coconut sorbet, pineapple, and pina colada sauce) and savory (brown butter cake and ginger popsicles). I’m normally more of a chocoholic when it comes to dessert, but this may turn any chocolate lover into a fruit dessert person.

Overall, Perennial was a great pre-theater dinner destination, and I would recommend it to anyone. One thing you will notice about the menu is their use of the Green City Market (which is directly across the street from the restaurant and labeled as GCM on the menu). Perennial uses the seasons to its advantage, and all are the better for it. Prices are all reasonable, and the wait staff is attentive and accommodating. They opened just last year, and named one of the 50 best new restaurants in the country by Travel and Leisure Magazine, and some tweaks of flavor may need to be adjusted, but the acclaim is well deserved.

***Still to come: Urban Belly, Avec, Hot Doug's, Alinea, Cafe Spiaggia, Topolobampo, DB Primehouse, Burt's Place, and Kuma's Corner***

Thanks for the report. I now feel like a moron b/c this is well w/in walking distance from me and I've never been. I'm accustomed to feeling like there weren't many choices for me in the neighborhood and planned my destinations out. I promise I'm going before summer ends based on your report and it's proximity.

Touring Chicago One Bite at a Time - Day 2: UrbanBelly:

Tucked between two laundry mats in the upper part of Chicago sits UrbanBelly, Chef William Kim and his wife’s Asian focused restaurant. Entering the restaurant is evokes a sense of entering another world. The outside is adorned with a red canvas that shields diners from their urban surroundings. Inside, however, communal tables and seats line the walls, and a feeling of welcoming beckons you towards the back of the restaurant to place your order. Though new to the Chicago restaurant scene, UrbanBelly has garnered much praise for its creative flavor combinations in dumping, rice, and noodle form. Not ones to turn down food in favor of our general health, my Dad and I entered looking to get a FULL taste of what Chef Kim had to offer.

One of the only knocks I have against Urbanbelly is its lack of pacing. Granted, we did order a lot of food (and were told so by the woman who took our order), but we didn’t expect it to arrive all at once. Perhaps it was just my ignorant assuming – and we all know what assuming does – but I expected to be served our dumplings first, followed by our rice, and finishing with our noodles and sides. Instead, we were bombarded with food all at once. As I will recount, all of the food was delicious, but I became overwhelmed and some of it got cold as it sat there.

Main complaint aside, I’ll begin with the two orders of dumplings: Asian Squash, bacon, and mandarin orange dumplings ($7); and Duck and foie gras dumpling ($9). Normally, they only serve the foie dumplings on Wednesday (we were there on a Thursday), but they had some left over, and we decided to jump on the opportunity. Overall, both my Dad and I enjoyed the Asian squash dumplings more. For one, the squash dumplings were steamed, whereas the foie dumplings were fried. Don’t get me wrong, the foie dumplings were unctuous and flavorful, but they were extremely rich, and as these dumplings sat there (see: food bombardment), they became cold and lost some of their flavor. However, the inside was ridiculously smooth and had the characteristically smoky duck flavor. On the other hand, the Asian Squash dumplings were outstanding. First, these dumplings were much lighter and burst with more flavor profiles. Where the foie dumplings contained a single, heavy note of the liver, the feather-light dumpling wrapper of its counterpart exploded with the flavor of the squash with the bacon and mandarin orange playing the sweet-savory chorus in the background. The only thing missing from these dumplings was a texture contrast. The bacon could have been crispier, but maybe something like pistachios or other nuts would have worked well. Nonetheless, this dish was one of my favorites of the meal.

After attacking the dumplings, my Dad and I dug into our rice dishes. I ordered the Phat Rice ($9) – a combination of all of their rice dishes – and my Dad ordered the Short Rib and Scallion Rice ($8). After reflecting on our meal, my Dad and I both concluded that we could have done with only one rice dish…but it would have been hard to share. The Phat Rice, as expected, had a multitude of flavors. In one bite we got a tender piece of Korean short rib and crispy pea shoots only to follow it with another bite of sweet pineapple and thai basil. Though somewhat on the greasy side, I found the rice to be very well fried, as it still remained fluffy yet retained its Korean-spiced fried goodness. The short rib and scallion rice was much more focused than the Phat rice, but that played well to its strength: The short ribs. Tender, fatty, and only a tad spicy, the short ribs and scallions were a great combination that left us scraping the bottom of the bowl.

Our brain told us to stop, but our stomachs, as they are wont to do, wanted more. And more they got. Our noodle dishes consisted of my Dad’s Soba Noodles with bay scallops, oyster mushrooms, and thai basil broth ($12), and my Urban Belly Ramen with pork belly, shiitake and pho broth ($13). First, the sheer size of these bowls is intimidating. Didn’t I hear something about not eating anything the size of my head? Oh well. After letting the soup cool for a while (it came out literally steaming hot), I first tasted the broth. How to describe the taste of pho? If you’ve had it, you know what I’m talking about. Pho tastes like pho. And by that I mean delicious, multilayered, and soothing. I’m not sure if Chef Kim uses MSG, but there is something in his pho broth that just makes you coming back for more. When it first touched my tongue, I could taste the full body of the stock (beef?). This richness coated my entire mouth the way a good piece of chocolate does. However, I was awakened from my comfort by little kicks of spice. Perhaps that’s what I liked best about this dish – the kicks. It wasn’t necessarily spicy the way a hot pepper is, but there were little pricks here and there of ambrosial ingredients that finally found their way through the broth. The pork belly itself was both rich and plentiful, and paired very well with the earthiness of the shiitake mushrooms. The ramen noodles were tender and soaked up the pho broth as the flavors began to mingle. My Dad really enjoyed his Soba Noodle dish. I only got a few bites in, but the broth had a delicious seafood note that was highlighted by occasional Thai basil herbaciousness. Personally, I enjoyed the Soba Noodles over my Ramen Noodles. I found they had more texture, and when eaten with the scallops and mushrooms, held their form amidst otherwise soft-textured ingredients. Between the two, it really depends on what you like. The Ramen has a full beefy pho flavor with a little kick, while the Soba has a great seafood taste. As for our side, we ordered the Chinese Egglplant with Thai Basil ($5). To our surprise, this was served cold. It had a very distinct soy and sesame flavor, which took center stage over the eggplant, but this was a pretty good side, and it was nice to have something that wasn’t tongue burning hot. Next time, I would like to try their seasonal kim chi, but our stomachs were begging for mercy at this point. Like all meals at Urbanbelly, ours ended with a ginger candy that was like a Korean ginger Tootsie Roll that was a sweet end to our meal.

Being from South Eastern Wisconsin, and living there my entire life, I’ve never been introduced to this type of cuisine. However, now that I have, I yearn to come back for more! The mixture of spice, sweet, and savory (and probably some umami, too) in the Korean flavors took my palate on a memorable ride. A great, albeit rather expensive, lunch only a little hindered by the strange serving pace.

Day 2: Avec

Chef/Restaurant owner Paul Kahan has undoubtedly become one of Chicago’s most respected and well-known people in the dining scene. Though he just opened the beer and pig heaven Publican, Chef Kahan’s two most noted restaurants in the city sit side by side – Avec and Blackbird. Having the restaurants side by side one another offers a chance to see the difference: Blackbird is a more refined, white-washed establishment with table cloths, tables, and waiters roaming the dining room in fine suits. On the other hand, Avec has long bar along the left side, and communal tables on its right. Instead of tablecloths, patrons sit at wooden tables on benches. Instead of finely clad waiters, the servers appear more casual and could easily be mistaken for a diner. And the noise. If any gripe has been said about Avec, it’s the noise level. We arrived around 5:30, and it was relatively quiet. I say relatively because as the night went on the noise level rose to near shouting levels. The space itself is narrow and very close-quartered, and though I never found myself bumping into anyone else, I left that night with a hoarse voice. Though, before our departure, we ate. And we ate well.

My Dad and I sat at the bar, and were soon approached by the waitress who was very friendly and explained the layout of the menu to us. Though, thanks to months of research, we came in with a game plan and knew what we were going to get. We began our feast with our two small plates: Chorizo-stuffed Medjool dates with smoked bacon and piquillo pepper-tomato sauce ($9) and the Whipped brandade with garlic bread and fresh herbs ($10). Those of you who know about Avec, likely know about the dates. Much has been written about these golf ball size gems of deliciousness, so what I have to say will be but a drop in the bucket of praise. Wow. Amazing. Worth the hype. Dissecting them reveals the glorious layers of spicy chorizo, sweet dates, and fatty bacon. When combining all the ingredients in one bite, you hit all the right spots. An interesting side note: the man who was manning the wood fire station literally had about 20 dates ready to be put to the flame. Everyone I saw eating there that night had an order of these; and I finally saw why. One of my favorite parts of the dish was mopping up the slightly spicy tomato sauce that lay at the bottom of the dish with the chunk of bread served with the dish. The whipped brandade, another popular dish in Spain, what super rich. To be honest, the main component of the dish my Dad and I could taste was butter. Not that butter is a bad thing (anything but bad!), but I wish I could taste more of the brandade. The garlic bread served with the dish was excellent, however, and, when combined with the brandade, made for a sinfully garlicky, buttery bite - Scrumptious, but a little tiring on the palate after many bites. Overall, the dates were the definite winner of the small plates.

After our rather filling “small” plates, we were giving our two large plates. We began with the Trofie pasta with house made blood sausage, squid, bacon, grilled radicchio and tomato ($17). Prior to ordering this dish, I had never heard of trofie pasta before. According to some of my research, this pasta is similar to fussili and is short and squiggly. That sounds delicious and unique. Unfortunately, that’s not what we got. Instead of short squiggly pasta, we got flat noodles similar to unfilled ravioli. What I thought was most odd was that we were not told this prior to ordering the dish. Not a big problem, but I personally believe that a change from what’s on the menu should be told to the patron. Nit picking aside, the flavors were all extraordinary. I’ve never had blood sausage before, and I was afraid the flavor was going to be lost in the rest of the dish, but the richness of the sausage became the main flavor. Instead of having a metallic flavor from the blood, as I thought it would, the sausage had a great flavor of garlic and Mediterranean herbs and spices (fennel, perhaps?). Complimenting the blood sausage was the sweetness of the tomatoes and bitterness of the radicchio. Altogether, they stewed into a tremendously savory sauce. The squid was plentiful and only slightly chewy, with both tentacles and body rings making an appearance. Although the squid flavor was somewhat lost in the sausage and bacon, it added a nice texture difference to the perfectly al dente pasta. On the whole, a terrific dish that was highlighted by a well-seasoned house made sausage.

Following the pasta dish, we dug into Avec’s other well-known dish: "Deluxe" focaccia with Taleggio cheese, truffle oil and fresh herbs ($14.50). What made this dish memorable was its simplistic genius. A thick spread of sweet and characteristically pungent taleggio cheese with an earthy finish was mixed with basil and other Mediterranean herbs and sandwiched between two cracker thin pieces of focaccia. To top it off, a little drizzle of truffle oil added an earthy aroma that permeated the each bite. As you can tell, we both loved this dish. And, once again, it was extremely rich. We were tossed between the focaccia and the pork shoulder, and if we do get back to Avec in the future, as I’m sure we will, we will definitely give it a try.

Although stuffed, my sweet tooth was curious to see what Avec had to offer. My Dad ordered the blackberry sorbet, and I ordered the caramel pana cotta with blueberries. Meh. To be honest, I didn’t have high hopes for their dessert, as Avec is known primarily for its savory offerings, but I was still somewhat disappointed. I did enjoy the intensity of the blackberry flavor in my Dad’s sorbet, and it had a velvety texture that is not found enough in often icy sorbets in other establishments. On the other hand, my pana cotta had caramel flavors that were too muted. The blueberries and blueberry sauce were good, but the main component was missing some flavor despite the silky custard texture. Should’ve ordered more stuffed dates!

For the price, my Dad and I thought we had wonderfully prepared, well-balanced, simple food in a lively environment. Another cool note about our experience was seeing Chef Koren Grieveson roam around the dining room cleaning tables, delivering dishes, and chatting with diners. Being a big Iron Chef fan, I was both excited and impressed to see a chef that is not only at the restaurant, but involved in every aspect of service. If I lived near Avec, I would certainly make frequent visits and could easily see this becoming a great spot to relax after a long day, enjoy a drink at the bar, and enjoying some delectable Mediterranean food.

Day 3: Hot Doug's

If any place in Chicago can be described as having a “cult following,” it’s Hot Doug’s. Even before being shown to the general public on both Check, Please! and No Reservations, a wait for a dog at this place has been reported to exceed two-and-a-half hours. And, as my Dad and I would come to find out, the waiting was for good reason.
I urged my Dad to be there no later than 10:30 when they open. Sure enough, we showed up at around 10:25 and there were already about 10-15 people in line. At 10:30, the doors opened up, the grills sizzled, and the aroma of various encased sausages and duck fat fries filled the air. The line moved surprisingly quick, and we soon approached Doug Sohn, who is there nearly every day taking orders. Being the good food-o-philes we are, we had already picked out our sausages days in advance. Furthermore, we went with an order of duck fat fries and two t-shirts with the famous and oh-so correct quotation “There are no two finer words in the English language than “encased meats,” my friend.” Those final two words were what struck my Dad and I the most: My friend. Those two words epitomize the philosophy of Doug Sohn and Hot Doug’s. Serving hundreds of people every day 6 days a week must get exhausting after a while, but Doug showed nothing but incredible hospitality and an almost sense of excitement as he took our order. Quite simply, we felt welcome – like we were among friends.

We were served our encased meats within five minutes of being seated. We ordered 4 different sausages, and seeing them all before me filled me with glee. I first dug into the much talked about Foie Gras and Sauternes Duck Sausage with Truffle Aioli, Foie Gras Mousse and Sel Gris ($9). This was sinfully rich and - I never thought I would say this about a sausage – melted in my mouth. The creamy foie gras mousse gave way to the snap of the casing. Surprisingly, the duck flavor of the sausage was not lost amongst the other strong notes of this sausage. What surprised me most about it was both the earthiness of the truffle aioli and a hint of garlic – both of which paired wonderfully with the duck.

Next, I tried the game of the week: Antelope Sausage with Berry-Cherry-Rum Sauce and Sartori Raspberry Cheese ($8). I always think it is a delicious idea to pair fruit with game, and this sausage held true to my belief. Antelope is a lean meat, so I was somewhat worried that it would make a dry sausage. Surprisingly, the sausage was somewhat moist and not as gamey as I expected. Though this was my least favorite sausage because of that fact. Out of the 4 we tasted, I felt this had the most muted flavors. The cherry sauce and raspberry cheese were fine additions, but I felt they overshadowed what should have been the start of the dish – the sausage.

My next bite took me back up north to my home state of Wisconsin - The Bacon and Cheddar Elk Sausage with Bacon-Garlic Mayonnaise and Beer-Washed Truckle Cheese ($8). How can one go wrong with such things as bacon-garlic mayonnaise and bacon and cheddar inside a sausage? This sausage tasted of brat cookouts in our backyard. The sausage itself had the fattiness of the bacon and the gaminess of the elk (I found it to be more present than in the antelope), with random nibs of cheddar in the background. Both the mayonnaise and the cheese all stayed in theme and were great additions to this sausage. My only complaint would be that everything in this sausage was so bold that I felt each flavor competing to be in the forefront instead of working together in one composed dish. Regardless, this was a great sausage that I would definitely have again.

I finished my sausage eating tour with the Cognac-Infused Lamb and Pork Sausage with Spinach Raita and Pecorino Pepato Cheese ($8). To me, this was the most interesting in terms of flavor of all the sausages we tried. Like in all the other sausages we tried, the alcohol in the sausage was well balanced, and the lamb flavor was certainly noticeable. Raita, an Indian yogurt condiment, was refreshing and went well with the pepato cheese (basically a romano cheese with black peppercorns). In fact, this sausage had my favorite cheese of all that we had. I found it to be the most prominent tasting, as it added a secondary taste to the sausage as opposed to simply a smooth texture contrast. The duck fat fries were great. I’m not sure if I would be able to tell you they were made with duck fat unless I was told, but there was a certain lushness about them that elevated them above any fried I have had in recent memory.

All in all, though it is a bit outside the city itself, Hot Doug’s is a must-stop for anyone wanting to try something found not many other places I can name. Doug is ridiculously friendly, and the place has a certain vibe that is difficult to explain. When you see people from all different parts of life – businessmen, teenagers, families, etc. – sitting down and enjoying the same food in one area, it really shows the power of good sausages. A few notes about our trip: (1) No, I did not eat 4 whole sausages – my Dad and I split each sausage and had the equivalent of two. (2) Eat everything on the sausage all in one bite to get the full flavor profile of the sausage. I found that when I dissected the sausage to taste each component individually, it really took away from the concept. (3) Come early. Even on weekdays, the line around lunch time can stretch around the block.

pastry643 wrote:Day 3: Hot Doug's

At 10:30, the doors opened up, the grills sizzled, and the aroma of various encased sausages and duck fat fries filled the air. The line moved surprisingly quick, and we soon approached Doug Sohn, who is there nearly every day taking orders.

Small correction: Doug is there every day his establishment is open. He broke his leg on vacation a few years ago. Hot Doug's remained closed until he could return to lead he charge.

Regards,

Wow...that's what I call commitment!

pastry-

Thanks for sharing your adventures with us. It sounds like you had a great eating trip! (and thank you for adding some space between paragraphs -- much easier to read now!)

-The GP

Yeah...sorry about the Great Wall of Text, guys and gals. After a little hint from a friend, I most definitely feel it makes it more reader-friendly. I'm glad you like my trip so far, but stay tuned! Up next is Alinea (don't worry, I'm only picking out 5 of my favorite dishes)!

pastry643 wrote:Up next is Alinea (don't worry, I'm only picking out 5 of my favorite dishes)!

It might take you more time to determine which were your five favorite dishes at Alinea than writing about all of them. Enjoy what I'm sure will be a great meal.

What day of the week did you go to Hot Doug's? I thought he only served duck fat fries on Friday and Saturday? And just a reminder - Burt's is closed on Monday and Tuesday. Nice reviews.

Truly great write-ups. Looking forward to hearing about your experience at Alinea.

Great stuff. Thanks.


A slight correction for future out of town readers: Hot Doug's is well within the City, albeit in a leafy neighborhood relatively distant from downtown.

I actually went to all of these places last week. I went to Hot Doug's on a Friday. This is just a delayed write-up

Day 3: Alinea

This was it. The restaurant we planned all our other activities around. This was the first time that the thought of eating at any place was somewhat daunting. How to approach such a highly touted establishment? When anything is deemed “the best” of any group, let alone one as prodigious and competitive as restaurants, how can one not feel an awkward cocktail of emotion: One part excitement of things to come, two parts of trepidation over any chance of disappointment, and a dash of comprehension that you may eat tonight better than you – and many others – have eaten in their entire lives. All right, I might be taking this too seriously. It is only a meal, right? Besides, tastes are all objective, and so what if some publications pronounce that this or any other restaurant is the best place to have a meal. But to me, it was so much more than something to eat. It was an experience, a chance to explore not a cuisine but an individual and his philosophy - an individual with the culinary and artistic ability to conjure up genuine emotion and memories.

In all honesty, I could write about all 22 courses. However, I realize that to do so would be exhausting to both read and write. Instead I decided to comment on our agreed upon top four courses. Though, great food is only great food; but great service and atmosphere is what places Alinea atop many lists. Like most restaurants in the city, the space is longer than it is wide. As you enter through the indistinctive front black doors, you are immediately hit with a sense of entering Achatz’s world. A hallway, only lit by a faint red glow, extends away from you and gets narrower the farther you go down. As I walked down the corridor, I felt as though I were in a dream, trying to take in my surroundings. I became so lost in the oddity of it all that the sliding open of an automatic door startled me out of my trance. Through the doors appeared the dining room to the left, stairs in front of me, and the kitchen, a sea of white in a choreographed whirl of preparation, to my right. We were met by the hostess and seated immediately on the lower level. Initially, I was taken by how much talking was going around us. For some reason, I expected the dining room to be eerily quiet, but every table could be heard giggling at what was placed in front of them or trying to decipher an ingredient. I found this to create a welcoming environment, but both my Dad and I attempted to enter tunnel vision so as to avoid any ruined surprises.

Our server approached us and briefly explained the menu layout for us – 22 courses, my Dad’s wine pairing would equate to around five glasses of wine, and I would be getting all three homemade sodas (If I recall correctly, basil and orange, thyme and cherry, and a lemon soda that tasted like a great Sierra Mist). Also, we would be served several breads throughout the evening with an amazingly milky tasting goat’s milk butter and Wisconsin cows’ milk butter with Hawaiian black lava salt. The breads were a bacon challah, a lemon-thyme bread, and a traditional, albeit buttery and delicious, dinner roll, each paired with a desired course. Other than that, we were at the mercy of the kitchen. Though, before I delve into the food, I would like to comment on the service. The short version of the service for our full 3-hour tour would be: Impeccable. Not only was each server (we had several throughout the evening) pleasant and very forthcoming, but also each one was extremely knowledgeable on everything we ate and drank. Throughout the course of the meal, I had several questions about preparation and ingredients, and each time, without hesitation, we were told the ingredient and its origin, how Grant prepares it in the kitchen, and, yes, even how I too could prepare something similar to it in my own home. The cognitive ability of the wait staff was truly remarkable and made the night a learning experience for both the tongue and the mind.

The first course I would like to hit upon is the dish entitled Pork Belly with iceberg, cucumber, and Thai distillation. What was placed in front of us was a square, white plate with a shot glass about a third full of a clear liquid. This glass was placed in the upper left corner of the plate. Two iceberg lettuce cups with a piece of pork belly in between them rested at the center of the plate. To the left of the lettuce cups was a dot of chili sauce, which we were told to mix into the rest of the dish to our desired spiciness. However, we were first told to drink the clear shot. Wow. Such a myriad of flavors in a small amount of liquid. The flavors of Thailand washed over my mouth – a faint sweetness of lemon grass countered by a tinge of what could have been peppers. Following the shot, we cut into the lettuce cups. The one thing about Alinea that one must keep in mind while dining is that everything is not as it seems. Even though we were told what the focus of the dish was, there was no doubt that secrets were kept from us and had us guessing throughout the meal. The lettuce was crisp and light, and the pork belly tender and immensely porky given the small amount, but it was the accompanying (“secret”) ingredients that made this dish memorable. Every flavor of Thai food was present – a surprising sweetness from what I believe to be coconut and the unmistakable herbiness of Thai basil permeated the dish, and offered a counter balance to the spicy tang of the chili sauce. Overall, the success of this dish rested in its familiarity in Thai flavors that were heightened by the shocking strength of their authority, as no flavor was lost amongst any of the others.

The second dish that stood out to us was the Pigeonneau a la Saint-Clair. Before the food arrived, however, the dish began with the presentation of authentic 100-year-old wine glasses and silverware. Next came the dish itself, a stark contrast to the normally modern food at Alinea. Pigeonneau a la Saint-Claire was a dish in the famous French chef Georges Auguste Escoffier’s book “Le Guide Gulinaire.” In the book, the chef offers thirty-four variations on how to prepare squab, and before us was number eighteen. Even more striking was the fact that Achatz prepared this dish using methods only available in the 1800’s – just as Escoffier would have prepared it. The dish itself was perhaps the most simple and traditional of the night both in terms of flavor and presentation, but that did not make it any less of a sensation. Everything in the dish was within a crisp tarte shell. Inside the tarte was an earthy truffle and onion base with a rare and gamey, but meltingly tender, piece of squab on top. Accompanying the squab were two ovals of foie gras and a roasted pearl onion. The dish looked and tasted like a traditional French course: Rich, decadent, and simple in flavor profiles. However, what made this dish one of my favorites was not in the flavor, but in the preparation. To me, this was Grant’s way of saying to all the naysayers of his style, “Stick this in your pipe and smoke it.” For a menu that always pushes forward, this step back in time truly showed the pure culinary talent of Achatz and his staff.

Contrasting the richness of the Pigeonneau a la Saint-Claire was the Tomato with fig, nicoise olive, and pine nuts. To begin with, a large stone bowl lined with steaming rocks and holding a tomato plant was placed at the center of the table. Immediately, I was struck by the garden smell. This was another dish that evoked a memory – one of picking fresh vegetables on a warm day. While the intoxicating aromas filled our table, a large plate was placed in front of each of us. On the plate were different colors of heirloom tomatoes, figs, crushed pine nuts, and various emulsions of the olive. To top it all off was a dusting of olive oil snow. The one word that best describes this dish is “organic.” Though I’m sure each item had its specific position on the plate, the placement of it all had a sense of organized chaos, like how, just in nature, everything seems to be randomly strewn, but it all makes sense. And, this organic feeling lent itself to the flavors as well. Allowing the diner to mix and match at his/her liking is a study in nature itself. You can dabble a piece of tomato in the olive emulsification and top it with the crunch of pine nuts. Or, you can pair a sweet date with a lush red tomato and top it with a dusting of subtle yet fruity olive oil snow. Like me, you may not have ever had any of these flavor combinations before, but for some reason, the moment you taste them, you know they go together. Altogether, the aroma, the smooth and crunch, the cold and warm, the sweet and savory – it all works. Just like in nature, everything has its place, and everything works together in a harmonious ecosystem of well-balanced freshness.

The final dish that my Dad said absolutely blew him away was our second to last one of the night. Our server cleared off our table of all dishes and glasses and covered the table with silicone tarp. Next, the server placed about 12 small dishes at the table. If this dish were to hearken back to any experience in my life, I would say my 11th grade chemistry class. Dishes, bowls, and plates of various sizes and containing various colored spheres, gels, and liquids lined the edge of our table. Then, coming from the kitchen, Chef Achatz made his way to our table. My leg rapidly tapped the ground like a giddy schoolgirl. The chef introduced himself and described the dish he was about to compose for us as Chocolate with blueberry, tobacco, and maple. Then, like a painter at his canvas, Achatz went to work. Splashing streaks of blueberry gelee and tobacco cream in royal blue and white arcs. Dotting the edges with wine poached blueberries. Gently placing globules of maple syrup around the center. And, to top it all off, a block of frozen chocolate mousse that gradually turned into a more mousse-like texture as it defrosted. The Chef, after looking satisfied with his work, nodded at its completion. I picked up my spoon, but where to begin? I started with the frozen mousse. After placing it in my mouth, I let it quickly defrost and coat my tongue with a velvety chocolate flavor. The amber colored spheres of maple syrup popped in my mouth and delivered all the sweet goodness of a light amber maple syrup without the cloyingly sweet after affects. Finally, the tobacco infused cream offered a sharpness in flavor that knocked the palate out of it’s sweet recluse and, when taken together with the rest of the dish, gave the dish a welcoming kick. Overall, a fun, creative, complex dessert that looked and tasted like a creation of a chef who loves what he does and has fun doing it.

In a sense, that is what Alinea is all about: Fun. Achatz, though quiet and a bit shy as he approached our table, is having fun in the kitchen. He has been quoted as saying that he denounces the term “molecular gastronomy,” and now I can finally see why. Whereas some chefs use emulsifications, infusions, and liquid nitrogen as the product of their cooking, Alinea uses it as a means to an experience. Like a good book, I’m sure I could come back years from now, have the exact same courses, and leave with a totally different perspective. As I sit here, a week after the meal, I can still taste the components of every dish. And this, I believe, is why Alinea is the best meal I have ever had in my life. In a strange paradox, Grant used (mostly) hypermodern techniques to evoke the most primitive of emotions. I left Alinea with more questions than answers, but also a new sense of what food can truly be.

Day 4: Café Spiaggia

Saturday was rather cold for late August, so we decided to warm up with some pasta at Café Spiaggia, the smaller and considerably more affordable sibling restaurant to the highly touted Spiaggia. After arriving for our 11:30 reservations, we were promptly seated at a cozy table next to a window overlooking the streets below. Now, when I use cozy in this instance, I am using it as somewhat as a euphemism. Both my Dad and I are tall individuals, but even if we weren’t, I think the table would have been uncomfortably small. By being petite and intimate the table had that distinctive café feel, but it achieved this at the cost of very little table space and cramped legs.
We were then served the breadbasket with Spiaggia brand olive oil. The basket contained two types: A normal Italian white bread and much more flavorful Parmigiano-Reggiano crisps. The crisps were like an extremely flat piece of crisped bread (almost akin to just the crust of fresh baked bread) dotted with tangy Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese. The olive oil picked up the slack of the white bread, as it imparted a smooth, rich, fruity flavor that even had the deep aroma a good olive oil should have.

Soon after placing our orders, our appetizers arrived. Though I was considering the beet and ricotta salad, I made a last second decision to try the Sarde – House cured sardines on crostini with salsa verde and shaved fennel ($12). To my knowledge, I have never had sardines before, but I’m sure that will change in the future. Two crisp crostini were topped with fresh tasting sardines. I was expecting these sardines to be immensely salty, but I was pleasantly surprised by how well the fish flavor shown through. Furthermore, the texture was flaky and smooth, and reminded me of a more creamy cod. My only complaint of the dish was in the salsa verde. While the parsley and garlic were distinguishable, I felt the sauce suffered from being too oily. The sauce wasn’t helped by the liberal drizzle of olive oil over the fish, either. Everything tasted fine, but as time elapsed, the bread became soggy and everything turned into one gloppy bite. My Dad ordered the Mercato – A soup with a Parmigiano-Reggiano broth and Nichols Farm summer greens, fava beans, and cherry tomatoes ($8). I only had a bite of the soup, and I was surprised by the intensity of the Parmigiano-Reggiano flavor in the broth. Though I can’t comment more on the dish, my Dad enjoyed the lightness of it and said he would get it again.

After our starters were cleared, our pastas followed soon after. Everything I had read about Café Spiaggia noted how one of their best dishes was their hand crafted potato gnocchi with wild boar ragu and Parmigiano Reggiano ($18), so I had my mind made up before I looked at the menu. The moment the dish arrived I was impressed by the amount of food on the plate. As I dug through the dish I kept finding more and more meaty chunks of boar surrounded by many gnocchi. Taking in the rich tomato aroma of the ragu, I could tell this was a hearty dish. First, I took a bite of the gnocchi by itself. Light and fluffy, the gnocchi literally melted in my mouth. What’s more, the gnocchi absorbed the ragu flavor – my favorite part of the entire dish. The ragu had only a slight tomato flavor, but just enough to have a sweetness to counterbalance the bold flavors of what I suspect to be red wine and beef stock (boar stock?). The boar itself was tender and juicy despite it’s lean qualities. For me, though, what made the dish was the ragu. My Dad ordered the special pasta for the day, which was tagliatelle pasta with fresh peas and pancetta in a light cream sauce. Again, I only had a taste, but this dish was much lighter and more summery than my own.

Looking at the dessert menu, really only one thing caught my eye: Their “Panini,” which consisted of 3 chocolate cookie sandwiches filled with red raspberry, mint, and chocolate gelato ($9). The dessert arrived with all three mini ice cream sandwiches placed on their sides with chocolate and raspberry sauces dotting the plate. The cookies were the perfect texture with a crisp outside, but not too crisp that the gelato just shot out the back end. The cookies easily gave way to the creamy gelato, and though all were intensely flavored, my favorite would be the red raspberry because of its pairing so well with the chocolate cookie. All in all, a great ending to one of our “lighter” meals on the trip. I would highly recommend Café Spiaggia to anyone looking for relatively affordable and well-prepared Italian food. And though I have never been to the regular Spiaggia, I can say that I really have no interest in going anytime soon with food this good only a door down the hall.