No dress code other than, well, look pretty nice.

We have considered a lottery like Sundance -- but frankly didn't expect the demand to be so great.

We did migrate to a DNS too late... but that was because we realized what we were going to be up against and decided to go scalable. Turned out to be a dumb choice, I guess, but this propagation took much longer than usual. And we had been up for days so I suppose the brains were not working as clearly as usual!

Auction is a consideration but feels wrong in a way -- like we are trying to gouge the highest price....

Nick,

It is great that you are participating on this thread. I'm sure that we all appreciate it. And you have this wonderful challenge. That is that you could probably sell out for a year or more. We could imagine a permanent Next 1906 restaurant, a permanent Next 2049 restaurant, a permanent Next 1949 restaurant, etc. The question is how to maintain the quality control and how to insure that there is some equity among diners. Every option has its upside and downside. I wonder if you might consider extending the "run" of Next 1906 to six months, which would give more people an option to dine at Next, decrease the overheated secondary market, and provide enough time for developing a new menu.

But whatever you choose, congratulations on an opening in which the glitches have been technological, not culinary.

nick.kokonas wrote:No dress code other than, well, look pretty nice.

We have considered a lottery like Sundance -- but frankly didn't expect the demand to be so great.

We did migrate to a DNS too late... but that was because we realized what we were going to be up against and decided to go scalable. Turned out to be a dumb choice, I guess, but this propagation took much longer than usual. And we had been up for days so I suppose the brains were not working as clearly as usual!

Auction is a consideration but feels wrong in a way -- like we are trying to gouge the highest price....

Will do, thank you!

Nick, thanks for writing; we really do appreciate the attention.

nick.kokonas wrote:Auction is a consideration but feels wrong in a way -- like we are trying to gouge the highest price....

I find this hilarious - you don't want to auction because you (admirably) feel like you would be gouging us. I recommend auction because I think it's wrong that you don't get the benefit when a ticket resales for 5x the sale price. It's like the Gift of the Magi

nick.kokonas wrote:We have considered a lottery like Sundance -- but frankly didn't expect the demand to be so great.

I hope I'm not shooting myself in the foot here, but that seems ridiculous. You operate out of Chicago, the third largest populated city in the US, with a restaurant already ranked in the top 10, currently has a photo book highlighted in Barnes&Noble, and a chef with his own memoir. Now you're offering a new restaurant that's more affordable. You're telling me that you didn't expect the demand to be this high? I'm actually surprised that the demand isn't higher.

Regardless, I'm glad you folks have a fix in place and I look forward to grabbing a table...in 2013.

Would just like to second GAF's question about communications with the balance of the list - and whether those of us later on the list (though I thought I had signed up very early but who knows ....) will have a chance at the next Next menu.

It was disturbing to see mentions, such as a post linked up on the FB page, of someone getting tickets by entering their email address even though they had not received an invite.

I'm very happy the restaurant is open and clearly a big success not simply in PR but also in the early reports of great food.

Hoping that someday I'll have a chance to eat there ...

And can't wait for Aviary!

It was disturbing to see mentions, such as a post linked up on the FB page, of someone getting tickets by entering their email address even though they had not received an invite.

The only way that approach worked -- as it did for me -- was if your name was already on the list in proper position and your e-mail address had been activated but the notification hadn't yet reached your inbox. (According to Nick, the e-mail system slowed dramatically after the first release of messages.) Nobody got to jump the queue.

My review was born in the cab not five minutes after we left: "I can die now." That's said not entirely in jest.

It's hard to go through our evening course-by-course since that's been done and done well. That doesn't mean, of course, that I don't have some comments. A couple of changes have taken place since the pre-opening dinners. The butter is salted and Danish, fwiw. (They told us that when they served the bread, a miniature boule. Bread service was a little off. The first time, our breads were barely warm and, worse, were a bit overdone and very hard to break open. The second time, they were very hot from the oven. That made them easier to open but they were still a bit overdone and too crusty. Another tiny complaint: given the size of each one, we were surprised to have to ask for more.) Coffee or tea is now offered at the end, compris. Our hors d'oeuvres appeared on a similarly pristine, heavy silver charger. This course and every single item that followed was explained in a fair amount of detail. Our server—whose name we never got but who was top-notch—was clearly excited; after an initial over-effusive introduction, he reverted to merely enthusiastic mode. Far more important, he knew the menu and the preparations and the ingredients in detail. I asked about the citrus taste I got when I had the one-bite quail egg/anchovy and he told me how the dish was plated, including the lemon zest. When I asked about the slight fennel taste I noticed in the turtle soup, he told me about the unusual mirepoix that included, yes, fennel. And so on and so on. There was nothing I asked that he didn't have an answer for—including, most impressively, questions relating to some of the wine.

Each hors d'oeuvre was rich and highly sensory and flavorful and eye-opening in a different way. The quail egg/anchovy bite, for instance. What with the runny, mouth-filling egg yolk, it didn't taste of fish exactly, but it didn't taste as if the fish were missing, either. If that makes sense. You know it's there, but if you imagine salted preserved anchovy, you couldn't be more wrong. The brioche with the foie "filling" and the little quenelle of apricot: a rich, eggy, fresh slice of brioche, filled with foie and reminiscent of the common pairing of quince, without being quince. The brandade was a three-layer miracle: a truffle layer at the bottom, brandade in the middle, topped with a Sauce (à la) Crème (basically a béchamel plus cream, reduced), all sprinkled with a brunoise (tiny dice) of truffle. With a tiny silver spoon, you are instructed to stir the contents. The word "bliss" comes to mind.... A duxelles wrapped in leek, pork rillette... Tiny decorations, created or trimmed exactly, placed precisely. You taste components—indeed, you taste individual ingredients—even as you taste the whole. Textures, sensations, flavors, everything comes together yet maintains an integrity that makes the synergy even more enjoyable.

And everything is rich, everything is voluptuous. The clear turtle soup. I understand wanting a reduced, even more powerful soup. But I found the flavors and strength of the soup, as it was presented, nearly perfect. The slightly astringent edge of the turtle would have become harsher and the flavor more pronounced. I worry that the delicate, vaguely earthy flavor would have been overpowering in a stronger concentration. As it was, the fragility, the daintiness of the soup was a marvelous pause after the set of remarkably rich hors d'oeuvres. It was a chance to collect one's breath before plunging in to the three courses at the heart of the meal: the fish (filet de sole Daumont), the poussin (very young chicken), and the true pièce de résistance, the caneton Rouennais à la presse (the pressed Rouen duck).

Without belaboring each course, suffice to say that these were superb. The filet of sole with its accompaniments may, indeed, have been my favorite course (as distinct from my favorite item): a plate coated with Sauce Normande, a small "roll" of sole stuffed with a forcemeat of fish and cream placed dead center, a crayfish head at 12 o'clock, likewise stuffed. And now: shall I tell you what this meal is really about? Shall I share with you why it is extraordinary, so revolutionary in its way, so unique? Very well. Let me take a moment to tell you about what many of us might overlook as mere "garnishes" for this plate. The kitchen follows Escoffier's recipe almost to the letter in presenting a plate of parts. At five o'clock on the plate, lies a small mushroom cap—the size of a dime, maybe a nickel. At seven o'clock on the plate, a small ball of fish roe. But where most restaurants we visit might do a wonderful job with these things, let me tell you what goes into these two small, all-too-easily overlooked items at "Paris 1906." First, the mushroom cap is hand-carved, fluted, to make it pleasing to the eye. Then, it is stuffed with (to quote Escoffier) "a Salpicon of crayfish tails á la Nantua." And here, precisely, is what is so extraordinary: a salpicon of crayfish tails involves, in the first instance, preparing the crayfish, separating the meat and chopping it fine. Then, the tiny dice are bound with a Sauce Nantua. To prepare that sauce, in turn, you start with a béchamel, add cream, and reduce it by a third. Next, reconstitute the reduced sauce with more cream. To that, add crayfish butter. I'll skip the steps for preparing a crayfish butter, noting only that this, too, is a multi-step process. Having finally achieved the Sauce Nantua, you add it to the crayfish producing, finally, the requisite "Salpicon." Finally, many steps and much time later, you may fill the mushroom cap. And now you begin to see and to appreciate the astonishing amount of labor and experience and expertise entailed in preparing but a single item that garnishes a single plate in a multi-course meal. The second "garnish" on the plate, at seven o'clock is roe coated with breadcrumbs and lightly sautéed in butter. Oh là là !

From here, we proceeded to the suprêmes de poussin, a diamond-shaped breast filet coated with a sauce thickened with foie gras (hence the color of the sauce). The chicken was far less robust in flavor than what had preceded it, though none the less delectable. But with it was, for me, was the first disappointment of the evening. Accompanying the poussin were two slices of cucumber, poached in butter (if I recall correctly), stuffed with a chicken forcemeat, the whole wrapped in salt pork. As one might guess, the salt pork was not M. Escoffier's invention. I found the cucumber disappointing. As wonderful as the poussin was and its sauce, neither was strongly flavored. To complement it, something more assertive would have been welcomed. As it was, the delicate accompanied the delicate. Maybe it's just, as our server noted, that Achatz is a fan of cucumber. But a less nuanced treatment of the cucumber would have pointed up with poussin more effectively—vinegar, say, or even citrus.

And then there was duck. There's really not a whole lot one can say about the duck. It's been oohed and aahed over. Everything you've read and everything you've heard is accurate. The duck is perfection: crisp skin, juicy meat, perfectly cooked. Slices and legs. I find I agree with Anthony (yellow truffle, in the first post of this thread): the gratin was a bit salty. But that didn't stop us from doing everything but lick the platter clean. The portions of duck and gratin were quite generous and we left little but crumbs and a drop or two of juice. We were given a small gravy boat of the sauce for the duck. It was gone as well. Beyond rich, beyond unctuous. I do not know the word(s); so extraordinary that I won't even try.

We both enjoyed the salad that followed quite a bit. In fact, a step back was absolutely imperative. The freshness of the greens (starting with the very peppery nasturtium and all the way down the plate to the asparagus tips) and the acid were precisely what the palate needed to rest, regroup, and take stock. Escoffier's recipe calls for a composed salad of equal parts diced cucumber, green beans, asparagus, and cauliflower bound with a little Sauce Mayonnaise (amazing how that sounds so much more...French when you preface it that way), spiked with chervil and tarragon. He also called for finely shredded lettuce and garden cress; I didn't examine the salad that carefully but I expect to find it all in place. And, indeed, as Escoffier recommended, the dish arrived with radish slices and nasturtium.

The meal ended with Achatz's (Beran's?) take on Bombe Ceylan. The original is a coffee ice-cream filled with a rum-flavored mix. Alongside sat a trio of rum-drenched cherries (instead of raspberries offered the pre-opening diners) Like others who have posted, I wasn't especially taken with it, but I would rather be less-than-thrilled with this course than any other. It's virtually impossible to like every single item that appears in a meal of this kind; to expect to adore every plate is unreasonable. In the event, I didn't and have no complaints about that. Three mignardises (accompanied by tea or coffee, if you wished) completed the tour: a beet fruit jelly tasting lightly but clearly of beet, an almost impossibly rich caramel dusted with fleur de sel, and pistachio nougat. Someone's job in that kitchen must be ensuring that the silver chargers gleam and are free of any marks, fingerprints, or extraneous atoms.

(For those curious about the house-made non-alcoholic selections: the hors d'oeuvres were accompanied by a fizzy ginger/elderflower/pineapple juice. The turtle soup and the sole shared a hojicha (a green tea that is roasted) /apple/passionfruit creation; the poussin was accompanied by rice/carrot/white pepper and the duck and salad by cherry/lapsang souchong (a smoky tea)/sanbitter. LDC commented, and I also noticed, that the servings were not especially generous—particularly when compared to the pours I received of each wine. I would also be remiss not to note that, as the evening—and the courses—wore on, the servers several times offered an additional partial pour of wine. I have no doubt that LDC would have received more of her non-alcoholic beverages had she asked. But I didn't have to ask.

I will not rehearse the wines—if anyone is particularly curious, PM me and I'll be happy to respond with a list of exact names and vintages. I will single one out: it was the one I liked the least but it was perhaps the most unusual and extraordinary white I've ever had. Chosen to accompany the turtle soup, it was a Domaine de Montbourgeau Savagnin "Etoile" (Jura, 2005) that tasted, as explained during the pour, like a dry sherry. A fascinating choice inasmuch as a splash of sherry is added as a standard last note to turtle soup. Here, it was not sherry at all, but the savagnin grape, a distant relative of the traminer. It's from the Jura, in eastern France. Like sherry, it grows the equivalent of sherry's flor while aging in the barrel. Only in this case, it's called a voile, a veil. Unlike sherry, the wine is not fortified. But take a sip and it has the most uncanny resemblance to a fino. I didn't care for it but it was a truly extraordinary thing to taste. For those who are wondering, I would offer this advice: don't drive. This is a lot of wine. Added to the extreme richness, you're not gonna feel like wanting to drive, most likely. And you probably shouldn't.)

One pacing note: while we weren't rushed, exactly, this was not an entirely leisurely evening either. Although it took almost precisely two hours, we were kept moving the entire time. There was never more than a few minutes at most between courses. Frankly, especially given the nature of this menu, more time would have been welcomed. And, in fact, I left to go to the restroom at one point simply to buy a little time to decompress. More than once wines were presented for the coming course even as I was enjoying the last few sips of the previous course's selection. There simply didn't seem to be a true understanding of the desire and the need to let this take a little longer. I'm not suggesting that dawdling be encouraged; only that these courses are, for the most part, so rich, so amazing, that it takes time to savor and to appreciate what's going on. And sometimes that means that it helps to let us linger a little from time to time. That never happened and, although it didn't rise to the level of rushing us through, we never once felt like we had a chance to completely relax, either.

(Parenthetical, historical note. This is a fascinating story. If you have the least interest—which is something I can easily imagine some LTHers tempted by this dinner will have—you might want to read a little about César Ritz and Auguste Escoffier. They opened the Ritz Hotel in Paris in 1898. That's right, 1898; the Ritz Hotel in London opened in 1906.). In fact, they'd been planning the move for a while. The Ritz Hotel Development Company was in place, anticipating the day and, in fact, construction had begun already in 1896. Good thing, too, because in 1897, Ritz and Escoffier were fired. Richard D'Oyly Carte (yes, the guy who started the opera company, later known for performing works by Gilbert & Sullivan) had brought them to London in 1889 to serve as general manager and chef of his brand-new Savoy Hotel, the first in the world with electric lights and elevators. They were sent packing less than a decade later on suspicion of embezzling wine and spirits worth well over $400,000 in today's dollars. No matter; both were geniuses and the new Paris establishment opened its doors to the public in 1898 with Ritz and Escoffier in place.)

Last non-parenthetical, non-historical note: Anthony mentioned early in his post that he was waiting to feel like he was in Paris in 1906 and he noted that he was not feeling that way (at least in the beginning). I think that's a wonderful point to discuss. I never felt like I was in Paris in 1906. But I'm not sure that's what I was looking for; I'm not even sure that I'd have been happy if I felt that. What I did feel, and what I liked feeling, was something like that but different. For all the people around me, for all the music (French, albeit not turn-of-the-century) and dark monochromatic interior, for all the not-inconsequential hum of conversation and interactions with servers, I felt like I was in a cocoon. The table, the service, and the food were well-lit and in focus. And everything else was there but fuzzy. I really liked it that way. The plates and the food were the stars of the evening; the only other person who really mattered was my wife and she was in the cocoon with me. Servers would arrive, present or explain something, answer a question, or do something else useful and then evaporate from my consciousness. We were able to share a unique, awe-inspiring-in-its-way, never-to-be-repeated experience with each other. What more could I ask?

A question for those who have dined there: Are you seeing the vintage crystal, china and silver that's been mentioned in pre-launch articles about Next? Photos in an earlier post seemed to show contemporary tableware. I ate at Alinea in January, when we were served an Escoffier dish, and the crystal, silver and china was all swapped out for antique stuff.

chgoeditor wrote:A question for those who have dined there: Are you seeing the vintage crystal, china and silver that's been mentioned in pre-launch articles about Next? Photos in an earlier post seemed to show contemporary tableware. I ate at Alinea in January, when we were served an Escoffier dish, and the crystal, silver and china was all swapped out for antique stuff.

I may be remembering this incorrectly but at the pre-opening dinner I attended, I think we were told that some antique pieces were being used at the kitchen table. In the dining room, the pieces are newer, though, some of them are designed to replicate pieces from the era (as you can see in some of shots in the post that begins this thread). Maybe someone with a better memory can jump in with more details.

=R=

If you look closely at the pics Anthony took in the first post, that's what we used last night: mostly gold-rimmed with some white-on-white plates as well. I'd be surprised if any of the service was antique; certainly not the glassware.

Gypsy Boy wrote:If you look closely at the pics Anthony took in the first post, that's what we used last night: mostly gold-rimmed with some white-on-white plates as well. I'd be surprised if any of the service was antique; certainly not the glassware.

Awesome post, btw. I wish I could have been a fraction as eloquent and insightful about my experience at Next as you were about yours.

=R=

From the pics, I thought the gold-rim dishes looked older.

At our dinner at Alinea, we were served a duck dish from Escoffier (but different from the one that seemed to make the Next menu). I can't remember the china, but the crystal was etched wine glass and the silver was heavy with an ornate handle...all gave the impression of being period pieces.

The antiques purchases are mentioned in this article, on rereading I realize that I took my Alinea experience + these comments to assume that meant of the tablewear would be antique.

chgoeditor wrote:From the pics, I thought the gold-rim dishes looked older.

If those plates were antiques, there were antiques that were pristine or restored in some fashion. The lack of wear on the edges suggested to me that they were brand-new. Of course, I may well be wrong, too. None of the glassware was etched. And the silver was heavy but gave no suggestion to us that any of it was antique.

Gypsy Boy wrote:

chgoeditor wrote:From the pics, I thought the gold-rim dishes looked older.

If those plates were antiques, there were antiques that were pristine or restored in some fashion. The lack of wear on the edges suggested to me that they were brand-new. Of course, I may well be wrong, too. None of the glassware was etched. And the silver was heavy but gave no suggestion to us that any of it was antique.

I'd agree with all of that.

Did anyone flip a plate over and look at the manufacturer/pattern?

sundevilpeg wrote:Did anyone flip a plate over and look at the manufacturer/pattern?

LOL! Yellow truffle has done that with nearly every serving piece at every meal I've ever had with him, and he definitely did it during our dinner at Next. Needless to say, I wasn't paying attention.

=R=

After more than >600 posts, here's my first photo!

This is what how the Escoffier dish Canard a la Cussy course was served at Alinea in January.

I was very lucky to be invited to one of the soft openings at Next. Thought I'd pitch in my two cents on the menu. The hors d'ouevres were thrilling. The truffled egg custard was my favorite. It was simply stunning. Second favorite was the mushroom stuffed leek. I thought the anchovy with quail egg and sauce gribiche was great too. I loved the strong pickle presence in the sauce. The pork on cracker had a nice little funk to it. I found the texture of the brioche (with foie gras) very interesting. I feel like the bread was intentionally a little dried out.

The seafood dish was awesome. The bruleed sauce on the plate was the clear winner for me. Intense, salty, and so deeply flavored. The stuffed mushroom was another standout. And I loved the crawfish head filled with custard.

The next dish - chicken with cucumbers - had another fantastic sauce. And I really enjoyed the cucumbers. They were clearly cooked, but retained much of their texture. They made for a fascinating bite.

The bread and butter were put to good use to swipe up sauces. The butter was really great, very salty (in the best way).

A lot of love on LTH for the duck course, and if there had to be a highlight of the meal (besides the truffled egg custard), this is it. I'm not a duck fan, and I couldn't stop with this dish. The duck breast was perfection. The confit duck legs were great too. A gravy boat was brought out with extra sauce. This course was just ridiculous.

Salad course, with asparagus and creamy dressing did it for me as well. I thought this was just right at this point in the meal.

I loved the mignardises as well.

We had wine pairings. As pointed out above, a cab to and from the restaurant is a good idea. I was plainly inebriated by the end of the meal.

Dining at Next was an amazing experience for me and my 3 guests. There are innumerable great meals to be had in Chicago, but the meal we had at Next stands out for its refinement. The flavors were so deep, yet we didn't feel salted out afterwards. The experience also made me appreciate French sauces. The sauces on the fish, chicken and duck courses were clear highlights for me.

Tawl John,
Thanks for the great summary.

I feel obliged to note one thing in retrospect. I think it's clear from my review, but just in case there is any doubt: we were part of the "regular folks" reserving a spot and paying for our dinner. Unlike Anthony (yellow truffle), Ronnie, and (apparently) Tawl John (sorry, John, I'm not completely certain in your case), we don't know anyone and we were not invited to pre-opening meals. Beyond a couple of changes I highlighted in response to Anthony's observations, I don't know what may have changed in the interim.

After dining at Next last week, I can try to write a review, but it will be no where near as eloquent as Gipsy Boy's post. I agree with just about everything he wrote about the restaurant.

Probably the 2nd best meal I've eatened in Chicago, just short of Alinea's offering (also realizing that comparing Alinea to Next would be like comparing apples to oranges)

nick.kokonas wrote:We have considered a lottery like Sundance -- but frankly didn't expect the demand to be so great.

I would actually be surprised if the demand ever decreases as it's consistently reinventing itself - each concept will surely be as in demand. Think about how hard it is to get into Alinea and that's not as accessible ($ wise) for as many people. Yes, the food changes, but Next is a dramatic rewrite every 3 months! So, combine great intrigue with limited availability...

It's brilliant because I (like everyone else in the greater Chicago area it seems) would love to go try every menu. It's just unfortunate that only a fraction of these interested people will get to try any given one given such short time frames. It's a cycle where all the hype creates way too high of demand for their capacity, creating more hype, creating more demand - but they're not capitalizing w/ an auction system! They could realistically offer each menu for 6 months and still fill up every possible slot.

Add me to the ranks of those who signed up ahead of time, but didn't make the cut this time. I will buy a season membership if I can get in for that (though knowing how things are unfolding there will only be limited availability and I won't be one of the chosen!). I do wish they would have limited their first concept to 1 table per person (This is me just being whiney).

It's great to get to live vicariously through those of you who did get in for the current menu - so keep on posting! I enjoy your food porn, and would love to hear more about your individual experiences!

K.D. wrote:

nick.kokonas wrote:We have considered a lottery like Sundance -- but frankly didn't expect the demand to be so great.

I would actually be surprised if the demand ever decreases as it's consistently reinventing itself - each concept will surely be as in demand.

Oh, I highly doubt that. The initial buzz will die. Those who signed up, but live half way around the world will realize that while reviews are very good, it's probably not "worth a special journey". (The reviews thus far certainly don't indicate a *** ranking is in the offing...assuming this concept is even possible to rank in a Michelin-type system.) And, at the same time, perhaps no other cuisine appeals to as wide a spectrum of diners as classical French, so while I have no doubt that demand will outstrip supply for a good long time, to assume that each new menu will be at or above the level of demand of this first is really quite farcical for a business standpoint.

kl1191 wrote:

K.D. wrote:

nick.kokonas wrote:We have considered a lottery like Sundance -- but frankly didn't expect the demand to be so great.

I would actually be surprised if the demand ever decreases as it's consistently reinventing itself - each concept will surely be as in demand.

Oh, I highly doubt that. The initial buzz will die. Those who signed up, but live half way around the world will realize that while reviews are very good, it's probably not "worth a special journey". (The reviews thus far certainly don't indicate a *** ranking is in the offing...assuming this concept is even possible to rank in a Michelin-type system.) And, at the same time, perhaps no other cuisine appeals to as wide a spectrum of diners as classical French, so while I have no doubt that demand will outstrip supply for a good long time, to assume that each new menu will be at or above the level of demand of this first is really quite farcical for a business standpoint.

I do think the regularly-changing menu may have more appeal to locals than to visitors but I don't think the demand is going to tail off very much. Of course, that's just a whole bunch of speculation but until I eat at Next again, that's pretty much all I'm left with.

=R=

I think what we've got here is a self-perpetuating system, a perpetual motion machine. Hype and genuine excitement lead to a run on the tickets, all the folks locked out get even more excited/primed for the next wave of ticket releases, keeping interest high. Word gets out and around from people who have actually eaten there. And then the whole thing starts over again with the introduction of a new menu, but more so. Those who went once will likely want to go again. Those who got locked out will double their efforts to get in. And Next will gradually get on the radar of those who missed its build-up, who will put in their bid for the cheap seats as well. It's like a snowball rolling down the side of a mountain, gaining mass as it goes along. In some ways the secondary market seems a vital component of this system, a literal secondary market slush fund of spare seatings, but it's going to take a while before that aspect works itself out. Next needs its own dedicated reselling site/forum to keep things on the level and organized.

That said, has Next ever promised/threatened that they would never repeat a menu? Just than it changes, right? I can't imagine them swearing off a potential "encore" seating, for those who liked what they had or missed it the first time around.

I could be wrong and I may, of course, change my mind. And I most certainly couldn't possibly speak for anyone else. But having had the experience of "Paris 1906" once, I can't see doing it again. For personal reasons, we have seriously considered, thought and talked about going a second time. And have decided against it.

Some experiences are--and should be--unique. When you repeat them, they lose that magic. As Thomas Wolfe said, "You can't go home again." I think he's right. No matter how excellent, no matter even if the things I was unhappy with the first time are "fixed," it just wouldn't be the same. It couldn't be. You can only have your first "Paris 1906" one time in your life. And that, to my mind, makes me mostly uninterested in repeating it.

Nick,

Has your staff considered auctioning off some of your tickets, essentially letting the market dictate how much someone is willing to pay for a table at Next. I noticed Bob Kramer doing something similar recently with his knives. That way, your staff will still be rewarded for the work your team has put into establishing Next, while satiating at least some of the secondary market.

Edit: looks like this was already mentioned earlier and Nick has already responded.

The discussion of Next is already devolving into a war between the have's and the have not's on their Facebook page (although it isn't as bad as I've seen it in other places and regarding other topics) and it's only going to get worse I fear. It's difficult to criticize the concept and communicate your frustration without being told to be quiet, stop being jealous, etc. Unfortunately, the minority of people who are put off by the process isn't going to do anything for the rest of us trying to get tickets.

At this point, I'd prefer they just release every single table for the rest of the season and possibly save one or two every night for the walk-ins they wanted or a last minute reservation opportunity via Twitter or Facebook. What's happening now is people are getting to the calendar and buying the first thing they can with zero regard to whether or not they can even attend that night or they want 2 or 4 people. Then the trading begins, which is great, but this can't be way they wanted the ticket market to be done. I've already communicated with a few people via the page about getting whatever table I can and trading with them if they

Nick posted yesterday that they had 4,000 people log in and 200,000 page views. That would mean, on average, every single person who logged in refreshed the page 50 times each. Knowing the way people operate, I wouldn't be surprised if some people refreshed 1,000 times trying to get a table. It's crazy. To each their own I guess, but I refuse to believe that this is what their intention was when developing the system.

I disagree that the hype is going to die down for reasons already stated here. New menu = entirely new restaurant every 3 months. Posters are correct that certain menus are going to appeal to a smaller minority than others, but I don't think that, for example, having a vegetarian menu is going to solely get vegetarian diners. The concept of Next appeals directly to human nature and our desire to be part of something exclusive. Some people will do absolutely anything to be a part of this, including paying a huge mark-up and refreshing the page 2500 times a day to get a ticket. If the internet has taught me anything throughout the years, this isn't as wild of a concept as some people may think. I'm terribly curious to see what is going to happen when everything is open to the public and what happens with the "season tickets".

Anyways, can't believe my first post on here was an amateur expose on the Next ticketing system. I have no one else to talk to about food except my wife and you guys though

I'll continue to try and get tickets like everyone else and hope that I can make it during this menu. Now, back to the food discussion...

How about a $3000 up front deposit good for three tables of four over a 12-month period? That might slow the demand, but I'm not so sure.

ronnie_suburban wrote:I don't think the demand is going to tail off very much.

I guess we'll have to agree to disagree on this one. I expect things for Next will go very similarly to how things went for Momofuku Ko. It's still something of a pain to get into, but no more so than...say, Schwa.