Grant Achatz has a penchant for pins and needles. There is a wall of pins at the end of the hallway in Alinea, and every so often the wall shakes and jingles. There were lots of pins through out the meal as well, which kinda makes me think about Freud, but I wasn’t there to be a shrink.  I was simply having dinner.

 

Dinner as it turns out was not so simple. We were led into a mid century style dining room with seemingly warm beige tones and lots of dark wood. The maitre’d, Scott, promptly told us that we were not allowed to order the Tour tasting. Wait, didn’t we specified that we wanted the Tour tasting when we made the reservation two weeks ago? Yes, he acknowledged, but that was only a possibility, not a certainty. He further elaborated that if we order the Tour, we’d be taking too long and he needs the table back for someone else. After some more exchange of words, the manager came out and offer to get us a reservation elsewhere. Where does he think we were going on a Sunday evening in  the suburban part of Chicago?

 

Then again, this is Alinea, and they can do whatever they want and we should still be grateful that we got a chance to worship here, right?  With the way the press talks about Grant Achatz, one would think he walks on water, although the only water I’ve seen in Alinea was a pond in the reception area that made me think of the hazards of West Niles virus.

 

The food was indeed interesting. For the most part, they seemed like bite size appetizers on long pins-visually provocative and presented with great theatrics.  I wonder if the servers practice the moves “ensemble” to achieve that perfect unison of setting the plates down all at the same time.  There was a little cube of fish on pins hidden in a jungle of Eucalyptus leaves. Finding the fish was like one big treasure hunt, I almost felt like it need to be an expedition with maps and clues.  A very rich flavorful soup in a tiny wax bowl with a ball of potato and truffles skewered by a pin, and a large lobster chip on a round wheel. It’s all very 30’s Machinist art.  Some dishes worked beautifully, like the panko crusted jelly on a cinnamon stick. Others were just weird, like the peas with lavender that tasted like soap.  Still others were just silly, like the petit fours served on long skewers fanned out like weapons in a campy Martial Art movie.  

 

As for the service for the rest of the evening, it borders on being patronizing.  The server explained what “verjus” were and went into long monologues on the climate and origin of each wine region.   The ambience was so pretentious that it virtually screams for someone to misbehave.  Come on, people can’t be having that great of a time, when they are sitting stiffly in a dining room being observed by six servers who looked like they each have a corn cob permanently implanted in their asses.  

 

For my part, I’m glad I went, because I don’t ever have to go again.  And, it even gave me a brand new appreciation of New York City, because in New York, if a restaurant pissed me off, there are 50 more within steps away.

 

Food: Not my thing

Service: Stuck up

Ambience: Uptight

Attitude: Plenty

Price: Have you ever heard of the Emperor’s New Clothes?

 

 

Alinea

West Halstead, Chicago.