What can be added to the Alinea lexicon that already hasn’t been said? Consistent greatness over the long term, certainly, but only time allows for that. All I can add is this: Since I first heard of Alinea, I was skeptical. I had no deep-seated desire to go there. From reading reviews, looking at pictures, the thoughts that came to mind were “What the hell is this?” and “Molecular gastronomy is stupid.” Many early assessments of the restaurant, in particular, emphasized the gimmicks: scent-filled pillows, uses of aromas on the table to complement dishes, and seemingly eccentric or bizarre presentations of food.
Over time, however, as more opinions on Alinea came out, including those of some trusted friends, I began to wonder if maybe there wasn’t something more to it. Maybe the food was good. A couple years ago, my favorite comment about Alinea was, “I should go there every day for a month to see if it’s possible to pay $300 a night for dinner and still starve to death.” Then Food & Wine magazine published a charming profile of Achatz, where, for the first time, I got to see his philosophy illuminated in an honest form, not through the lens of a reviewer. And it’s then I realized that the reviewers maybe weren’t doing Alinea justice.
Fast forward. The opportunity presented itself to go to Alinea recently. It was the right time, the proper occasion. We decided to go, a party of three on a March Friday. I entered the doors an avowed skeptic, but one open to accepting the food on its own merits. Five hours and twenty-four courses later, I left realizing that my preconceptions of Alinea were the fault of inarticulate reviewers who choose to emphasize the glitz over the sheer classical structure and impressiveness of the menu. They tended to go for terms like “magic” and “the experience,” while letting the food seem a sideshow.
One thing is clear at Alinea: it is all about the food. Sure, there is plenty of whimsical presentation and fun had by Achatz and his brigade in the kitchen, but this food is firmly rooted in the classic methods; the menu is constructed in a faithful way that honors the tradition from which it springs forth.
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| From Alinea |
The space is delightful, contemporary, warm, comfortable, and relaxing. The chairs live up to their reputation. The tables are large, allowing plenty of room to spread out, and are spaced far enough apart to create separation from other diners without feeling isolated. The service is impeccable, fully formal but with a casual friendliness that exists hardly anywhere. The level of knowledge and passion among the staff, who genuinely appear to enjoy what they’re doing, complements the passion that comes through on each plate.
Indeed, the experience is about the food, and this night’s Tour menu started out at the highest level and moved from strength to strength. (You don’t see a menu before the meal; you leave with a copy of it.) At each step, the wine stood with the food, enhancing it (no small feat given the breadth of flavors covered in the many courses). The first of twenty-four courses was hot potato-cold potato. It comes out on a wax oyster shell. In the shell is a cold potato soup, flecked with black truffle. On a pin sticking out of the shell, above the soup, is a ball of warm potato with a cube of cheese and large slice of black truffle. By removing the pin, the warm potato, cheese, and truffle falls into the soup, and you eat the entire thing in one bite, like an oyster. And it is at this moment you realize Alinea is not form over substance. The purity of the potato, the earthiness of the truffle, richness of the cream-laden soup, and temperature contrast put your focus precisely where it should be: on the food.
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| From Alinea |
From that point, you just give yourself up to this intensely passionate, five-hour journey of classic execution taken to different creative heights. The highlights kept coming, too numerous to go in-depth, but worthy of at least noting. It is also impossible to do justice to these dishes with mere words or even photos:
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| From Alinea |
Yuba, the solid film that forms on top of tofu, took on the texture and flavor of cracklings. It created a textural and flavor marvel wrapped with shrimp, miso, and togarashi.
One true standout was the cauliflower dish. Five cubes of cauliflower mousse, each with a different coating, ranging from cheese to bacon to nuts. It came with gels of nutmeg, vanilla, and almond. A pure, defined, and cool sauce of cider rounded out the dish, adding acidity and cutting through the richness. This marvelous preparation redefined a usually boring main ingredient.
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| From Alinea |
The wild striped bass was one of the most perfectly cooked pieces of fish you can imagine, covered in a chamomile film that actually added little to the overall dish but gave a compelling visual touch. At this point, without a menu as a guide, a genuine feeling of anticipation and wonder preceded each course. What possibly could top what just appeared?
The wagyu beef was gorgeous for, quite surprisingly, its freshly made A-1 “powder.” Achatz researched the original A-1 recipe, dating to the 19th century, and created a powdered version of it in, presented in a packet with the plate. It worked remarkably well with the beef, overshadowing even the potato-chip crusted piece of fine pureed, almost cheese-like (because of its rich texture) potato.
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| From Alinea |
To this point, the meal had followed a fairly traditional tasting menu layout. The eighth course featured chestnuts, and this was one of the forays into a common ingredient from traditional menus that usually plays a supporting role. Instead, Achatz takes a frolic and features it on its own, to brilliant effect. Here, a whole chestnut comes with chocolate and a baked potato ice cream that in taste and texture tasted so like a baked potato, it made you think you were eating in Willy Wonka’s Factory.
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| From Alinea |
Perhaps the bite of the night, however, came as course eleven: a frozen combination of Dijon mustard and passion fruit. Initially, a pure flavor of passion fruit hit your tongue, like a perfect sorbet. Then, cutting off the finish of the fruit, came a sharp surprise of mustard. It’s difficult to explain how this works and why it works so well. More than any other flavor of the evening, it demonstrated how Alinea can force you to rethink food and appreciate it in new ways.
The least successful course was an oyster perched on a stalk of lemongrass, garnished with sesame and yuzu. It was interesting to see how the lemongrass imparted a subtle, meaningful flavor on the finishing flavor of the course, but overall it didn’t come together like the others.
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| From Alinea |
On the heels of the lemongrass, though, were three courses that more deeply impressed the meal to memory. First, lobster tail, showing no signs of chewiness, served on an undulating plate with small bowls at either end. One bowl contained clarified butter suspended in a gel capsule, exploding when pierced with a fork. The other showcased a touch of curry. Across the bottom of the plate, liquefied popcorn, a whimsical take on the lobster-butter combination. Second, a slice of Iberico ham served over sticks of salsify fried and texturally perfect, giving them the feel of French fries, hazelnut, and smoked paprika. This legendary Spanish ham is fed on acorns, giving it a rich, beef-like sensibility; a slice had been presented as a table decoration at the start of the meal. Initially frozen, it looked like a flower petal before transforming slowly into the deep red of this marvelous cured meat. Third, the famous “truffle explosion.” It is a small ravioli filled with black truffle tea. It is the concentrated archetype of truffle flavor. So simple in its profile yet so inventive in its conception.
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| From Alinea |
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| From Alinea |
Moving into the dessert courses, there was a constant interplay of sweet and savory that refocused the meaning and scope of a meal’s sweet finish. But this isn’t experimentation for its own sake; it is a dramatic rethinking and expansion of flavor combinations that work. The care and thought that has gone into the creation of these dishes is transcendent.
Prior to the parade of desserts and at the end of the meal, there were two powdered courses. First, “grape soda.” It came in a clear packet, looking more like drugs than a bite of food. But pop it into your mouth, and what explodes is the perfect expression of grade soda, complete with effervescence. The closing bite? A shot of powdered caramel, mixed with a bit of sea salt. It’s all the pleasure of the finest caramel, without anything sticking to your teeth.
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| From Alinea |
Throughout the meal, the service was impeccable, if slightly different than at most restaurants of this stature. The waiters have fun with the food. Their joy in explaining the presentation and, when necessary, telling you how to eat a dish, comes with genuine passion that matches the lovingly created food. The staff was invisible yet omnipresent. Their moves choreographed in a practiced dance that enhances the experience while simultaneously putting diners at ease.
In addition, the wine selections deserve special applause. Pairing eleven different wines to complement such a diverse menu takes a major feat of knowledge and imagination. All the wines went admirably well with the food. The non-vintage H. Billiot Brut Rosé made for a refreshing start, while also cutting through the richness of the hot potato, cold potato and the fried yuba. The same contrast of richness and freshness showed in the Rudi Pichler Grüner Veltliner, paired with the cauliflower, and the standout white Crozes-Hermitage Les Meysonniers 2007 from Michel Chapoutier.
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| From Alinea |
There wasn’t a discernable progression from white to red wines over the course of the meal, another indication that Alinea refuses to follow conventions. Instead, everything is dictated by what is best for the food, and it shows the desire to have wines that complement each course. A somewhat rich yet mineral-laden Muscadet from the Loire (Chereau-Carré’s Comte Leloup de Chasseloir, Ceps Centenaires 2003) simultaneously masqueraded as a rich White Burgundy with the lobster while also undercutting the buttery dish with acidity. A rare thirty-year-old Amontillado Sherry from Bodegas Tradicion, served with the Iberico ham, demonstrated that traditional pairings are sometimes the best.
The pours were sensible, giving you the equivalent of a bottle of wine over the course of a five-hour meal, but the service was generous in refilling your glass further if you like. All wines are charged by the ounce, so you’re given complete control over how much you consume, and they are accommodating to those who wish to drink smaller amounts. Like everything else, there is great attention to detail and thought put into the wine program at Alinea. There’s really no reason to order off the list, though it is substantial, because the pairings shine so admirably.
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| From Alinea |
Alinea leaves you with a different impression than its popular reputation. This is food that is firmly within the classical tradition; the progression of Achatz from his French Laundry days to Alinea is easy to see once you eat there. The presentation and use of molecular gastronomy all is subservient to the food and the purity of the ingredients. It is a tour de force of culinary delight that, while perhaps too much for weekly enjoyment, is the ultimate celebration.
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