mczlaw

It is a pretty safe bet that you will not see a cheese cart ever wheeling its way around the Alinea dining room. That is not to say that you will not eat cheese... you may. But such a presentation would not fit well with the rest of the meal at Alinea. Mignardise are more vague. Thus far, the last course of the evening is what Alinea considers a "composed" course... a few bites of a sweet/savory to end the meal. Again, not the equivalent of a traditional chocolate and cookie platter or the like. However, beginning as soon as next week, you will be taking home a wonderful packaged good that is part of your meal... we expect this to be seasonal, and perhaps fleeting. ← .After finishing the dry caramel/salt "mignardise" at Alinea two Sundays ago, I asked my server if I might have some cheese. Smile and thoughtful look. I was served the idiazabal puff. Now, I'm bummed I didn't wait a couple weeks so I could get the lovely parting gift, too. --mcz

You mean to say there are nicer clothes than this? Personally, I prefer shorts, golf shirt and birkenstocks (no socks), but with mushroom season upon us, those are all put away until July. Casual dress nearly everywhere is one of the things that makes Portland special. I must add, however, that no one will belittle uninformed easterners if they choose to gussy up for a nice meal out. P.S.: New places worth a try: Fenouil, Nostrana, Roux. --mcz

Thank you kindly for the welcome. Funny you should mention Mariani. When I was chatting in the kitchen with the maitre d' post-meal, I mentioned how I thought the man (Mariani, not the maitre d') was an ass. I offered that, given all the wonderful dishes I had tasted, I couldn't believe Alinea would serve "limp bacon," and was sorry that that course was not included in my menu. We continued to chat, and moments later, the bacon course (pig on a flying trapeze?) was offered right there in the kitchen. The strip I ate was perfectly crisp, thank you very much. --mcz (N.B. Mariani heaped effusive praise on a restaurant here in Portland that has proven itself to be inconsistent at best. The man has zero credibility.)

Allow to me join the chorus of praise for this amazing restaurant and its outstanding chef and staff. I had the privilege of dining there solo last Sunday (10/23) for the 12 course menu. From entry and greeting through my visit to the kitchen and chat with Chef Grant after the meal, the experience compared favorably to the two other highlight meals I have enjoyed in the last year, Tetsuya's and French Laundry. It was particularly gratifying, as a lone diner, to be treated graciously and even accorded an extra measure of attention. I had a fine seat at a big table in the corner of the larger upstairs dining room. From there, I could soak up the rhythm of the entire room. The trio of servers, and the busser, each demonstrated a high degree of professionalism, including a comprehensive understanding of the kitchen's output down to the most elemental details. Much has been written in the food forums and food-related blogs about the delight of the food. I experienced that, too. What set Alinea apart, in my experience, is the spirit of whimsy that pervaded the meal. Emblematic was the first course, the celery/curry shell/pear. From my perch, those who were "on the bus" started smiling from the moment they shot, then crunched into this unusual assemblage of tastes and textures. The unique service pieces furthered the sense of gustatory gambol. In the same vein, this was a meal without pretense. There was none of that obnoxious hushed reverence from the staff nor, worse, the intimation that one should feel (and act) privileged to be seated in such a mecca of fine dining. Instead, the servers seemed to be having as much fun presenting the food as the patrons were eating it. I have not had reason to visit Chicago for many years. Along with my niece in college at Northwestern and the resurgence of the White Sox, Alinea gives purpose to the trip. (BTW, favorite dishes: squab stew, bison. Dish I didn't like: the matsutake cake. And, the relatively dry, nonalcoholic French cider I mentioned to my server, but the name of which escaped me, is called Duche de Longueville. It is from Normandy and is distributed in the USA by Europvin U.S.A., Oakland, California.) --mcz