Dinner at Alinea

First of all, apologies for the radio silence. Pretty sure we all knew when I started this mess that it wasn't going to be updated daily (or even weekly, let's be real).

But I think I'm in mourning.

For over six years, I have kept a running list of restaurants in Chicago where I wanted to dine. And one by one, I have knocked them off, continuing to add new places as they open, and remove them if, sadly, they close. The list is now over 250 restaurants, bars, diners and food trucks long, covering Chicago, San Francisco, Los Angeles, New York City, Hong Kong, Singapore, Paris, and beyond.

But the first name on the list, since the day of the list's birth, was Alinea. 

I moved to Lincoln Park in 2012; my first apartment was at Halsted and Armitage. It was there on Armitage, just a few yards down at the end of my rat and dumpster filled alley, that Charlie Trotter's sat like an ivy-covered, untouchable castle. As a kid in my early twenties, Trotter's was out of my paltry dining budget. Instead, I feasted on food magazines and the internet: two things I could afford. I became enamored with the idea of dining at Trotter's, but after just a few months of my living down the block, the restaurant closed after 25 years. A little over a year later, on November 5, 2013, Trotter died unexpectedly from a stroke.

I remember hearing the news on the radio in a taxi on my way home from the International Dairy Expo at McCormick Place (the sweet perks of working on advertising for a butter and cheese brand), and I was heartbroken. The restaurant was closed, he was gone, and I was never going to have the chance to eat a meal quite like the ones he served.

I went home and googled him. I was fascinated by his story, the fire he exuded (and all the people he burned with it), and his shocking polarity in the industry. He was a genius; he was a terror. I read about those who were touched by him, infuriated by him, inspired by him. And in my reading, I stumbled upon a name I had seen in all my food magazines. Grant Achatz. 

His first job in Chicago in the mid-nineties was at Charlie Trotter's. And fittingly, after years apprenticing under another one of my chef-crushes, Thomas Keller, he returned to the same stretch of Halsted (just a few blocks from Trotter's) to open Alinea in 2005.

Let's be clear, in 2005 I was drinking Natty Light with my friends in the suburbs. I was not pining for Michelin starred dinners. A) Because the Michelin restaurant rankings didn't exist in Chicago yet. And B) Because I was a kid. It wasn't until I started my career in advertising, working on foodservice-related clients, that I realized how infatuated I was with food. 

I knew that I wouldn't let Alinea slip away like Trotter's had. Great restaurants are too fleeting, too fickle, and too precious to not visit when you have the chance. So I opened my iPhone 4S (tee hee), and I started a list aptly titled, "Restaurants." Alinea was the first name I wrote down.

Nearly five years later, dozens and dozens of more easily attained restaurants checked off my list, my opportunity came to eat the meal I promised myself I some day would. Two of my closest friends (Carly and Matt), along with my fiancé (Chris), made a pact in blood (not really) and a payment in money (lots of it) to do the "Gallery" dinner in Alinea's main dining room. We booked our reservation nearly three months in advance. I was deathly nervous that it wouldn't live up to the inflated standards I had created in my mind.

It blew my every expectation out of the water.

Without spoiling too many of the surprises, or making your eyes bleed from posting too many poorly-lit pictures, here's a truncated overview of what made its way into my mouth.

Parsnip soup with lemon pearls, and osetra caviar. We did a power ranking at the end of the meal (which is a tradition that Chris and I do where we write out what our favorite to least-favorite dishes were, and then try to guess each other’s order) and this was one of my absolute favorites. Pretty sure everyone else had it closer to the bottom. But you know what? BE BOLD. DON’T FOLLOW THE CROWD, NORA. I loved it. 

Between this course and the next two, there was some magic trickery and theatrics involved. I won’t say what it was, but I won’t not say that it blew my mind.  

In a visit to the back of the house to see the kitchen of my dreams, there was a special cocktail served from a medieval-looking drink shaker. I will let you imagine this one because it's far cooler to witness it in person. Let the lack of photographic evidence here inspire you to visit the restaurant on your own. With it, we had the chance to eat what can only be described as, a very expensive pizza puff. Pepperoni, fennel, and basil. This isn’t your standard deep fried hot dog stand pizza puff (although if you know me, you know I die for those). This pizza puff made me want to be a better person. 

The next course didn’t make me want to be a better person, but it did make me want to be a better photographer. It was so beautiful, and my iPhone could only do it 3% of the justice it deserved. World, meet wet snow. Wet snow, meet world.

Essentially an Asian pear snow cone with bright orange salmon roe.

But the real star of this course was an unassuming spear of lettuce with “avocado and jalapeño.”

Ummmm I’m not sure if I have been doing vegetables wrong or what is going on here but the sum of those parts when I put them together do NOT taste like this. 

The next course was one of those seemingly gimmicky moments where a glowing plate of ice was presented to us, with four nuclear looking, orange globes. We were instructed to eat these in one bite (everybody knows the rules) and holy. Hell. It was like spiced orange magma. The look on each of our faces as each of our bubbles burst can only be described as childlike wonder. I would pay another $50 to have this one little ball of liquid wonderful again in a heartbeat. 

And right when I was really starting to swoon, they hit me with it.

“It” being a curry/crab/coconut dish that blinded me with its perfection. This was easily #1 on my power ranking. I won’t say much more about it but please contact me separately re: the showmanship that came along with this course. You will be impressed.  

The next course was served basically in pitch blackness (not true) and I didn’t take any pictures of it (also not true). Squid. Olive. Artichoke. Garlic. It was divine. But it looks like a crime scene in the pictures I took. NEXT.  

I'm not lying when I tell you the next thing we ate was a piece of paper. Paper made out of dehydrated langoustines. 

A fascinating take on bouillabaisse (pronounced boo-ya-base for any of those unfamiliar with the traditional French fish stew.) I never knew eating paper could be so fun!

Then, for the second time in a month since there was something quite similar at the Wes Anderson dinner we had at Elizabeth, I got to enjoy a little donut break. Some people like donuts filled with jelly. I personally prefer them filled with venison. And plucked from a juniper bush. Like this one.

There's just something really pleasant about enjoying a simple donut after you eat a piece of paper. That's all.

Should probably work on my manicure game if I'm going to take pics like this. 

As I mentioned before, this whole meal was filled with pageantry and sleight of hand illusions. And this next course revealed that a secret potato had been roasting on our table the entire time. A SECRET. POTATO.

This little sneak was then diced up, and covered in pressurized clam chowder served out of a whipped cream canister. It really isn't the best looking thing we ate, but I'll be damned if it wasn't one of the tastiest. There were fresh crackers and hot sauce, and I would be a bold faced liar if I told you this wasn't the most incredible take on chowder I've ever had. I will never be the same.

I think Alinea recognizes the need to balance novelty with beauty. So after eating whipped clam chowder out of a can, we needed something pretty. The next course delivered on this. It also delivered #2 for me on the power ranking. I think it was #1 or #2 for everyone else as well.

Morels, ramps, and parmesan, among other godly flavors. It was, to put it in my typical bro-y way of speaking, INSANE.

The main course was a bit hectic. There was foie gras. And squab. And beets. And mushrooms. And beef jerky that looked and smelled like vanilla beans.

Girl, those cuticles.

And, I don't know. Just, a lot going on. I really missed the simple days of the pizza puff and wanted to go back in time.

It should also be pointed out that at this point in time, Carly ate something (I think it was the foie so this feels sacrilegious to write) that she f%*king hated. It was almost a refreshing break to our incessant "oh-my-God-it's-so-good"-ing from the last 76 courses. Like, something had to be not perfect at some point. It was this. And the next course.  

I liked it in theory: freeze-dried goat cheese and manuka honey. And a shot of pineapple, aloe and shiso (which I really struggled to take without making a mess). But in practice it just turned out to be an important filler course to ground us and catch us off guard. Touche.

Because everything that happened next was a whirlwind.

Even the silverware was making me question the meaning of life.

Up first was a small banana.

JUST KIDDING GOTCHA IT ONLY LOOKS LIKE A BANANA.

Inside, it was a banana-split-like object. I don't know how they did it. They just did. And while my head was spinning and all the wine pairings were really starting to sink in (read: course through my veins), someone appeared with the one thing I had been looking forward to all night. The green apple taffy helium balloon.

I'm not sure when the last time was that you sat around with a room full of (presumably really wealthy) strangers and laughed maniacally as you sucked helium out of a candy balloon, but ten out of ten, would recommend.

Side note I have the lowest voice on planet earth so hearing myself with a high pitched laugh was unbelievably entertaining. Almost as entertaining as the real MVP, the grand finale, the final act... "Paint."

It was like a Kygo concert mixed with a live art show mixed with smoke and mirrors and freestyle rap and dancing and surprises. I desperately want to say more, but it can only be explained live.

So I'll just leave you with the aftermath.

We were all visibly shaking with joy at the end of this. It was an out of body experience. I couldn't even tell you what was in it, but the menu I kept tells me white chocolate, coconut and silver (?)

And if you're wondering if it ended there with the precious metals, it didn't.

It ended here. With one last buttery sesame bite wrapped in gold.

Here we are, wine drunk, crying tears of joy.

The Forkling says: 9.6 forks out of 10.0  

This meal was about as near-to-perfect as perfect gets. With the exception of the freeze dried goat cheese situation, I was a pretty happy camper. The "Paint" course alone redeemed every bit of wrongdoing that that dusty cheese had done to me.

A lot of you have asked me if it was worth the cost... and in my opinion, it's worth every penny.

I would do it again in a heartbeat. 

And I plan to, as soon as I win the Powerball.