I’m sorry to disappoint anyone, but, despite the title, this blogpost is not about Chanhassen Dinner Theaters or Tony n’ Tina’s Wedding (and I’m sure some of you have thought I’ve come down from my pretty little perch on a marble pedestal…uhmmm…no), nor is it about some loud, dramatic break-up scene I may have had with a mysterious lover from out-of-town over the caprese salad at Follia (a more unlikely event than the plopping from the pedestal). Nope, this is about a highly memorable, truly mind-opening, three hour dinner at Moto, that shrine to the progeny of science and gastronomy in the Fulton Market district, built by wunderkind chef Homaro Cantu (who, among many accolades, is probably most famous to the average person as the guy who beat Morimoto in Iron Chef, a feat in itself). Moto, together with Alinea, really helped create the reputation and stature that Chicago now has on the world map of boundary-pushing dining, a pretty exclusive map that includes Ferran Adria’s El Bulli in Spain and Heston Blumenthal’s Fat Duck in the UK. Without a doubt, its reputation for highly imaginative, unexpected, sometimes dumfounding, always thrilling, and yes, impressively theatrical dining, is well-deserved. Although I felt that some of the dishes were less successful than others in the 12 course tasting menu, the overall experience was uniquely wonderful and indelible, and for the most part, headily delicious. I can’t wait to go back!
Chicago foodies of all shapes, sizes, shades of black clothing, and types of Jimmy Choo heels descended on the Field Museum last night for Gourmet Magazine’s Wine Cellar, a celebration of how great a restaurant town this city is, which benefited the American Institute of Wine and Food. Thanks to the generosity of Greg, the husband of my friend, the lovely Dulce, and who works for Gourmet in the West Coast, BFF Debra and I got to participate in what was clearly one of the highlights of the Chicago culinary calendar. Most of the city’s top restaurants and chefs were out in full force and it was a kick, for this inveterate food fan, to see a goggles-wearing Homaru Cantu blowtorching a Baked Alaska with strawberry puree and truffle oil (aptly called, well, Baked Alaska Inferno) at the Moto table; or a very unassuming, and thankfully healthy- and boyish-looking Grant Achatz, one of the greatest chefs in the world currently, hanging butterscotch-flavored, rehydrated bacon on a deconstructed chicken-wire type contraption at the Alinea table, or Christophe David shaving slices off a humungous piece of jamon Iberico at the NoMi stand. And since my life is always inadvertently eventful, I managed to shamelessly introduce myself and gush all over a very game Stephanie Izard, owner-chef of the deeply-mourned, dearly-departed restaurant Scylla, and currently one of the favorites to win Top Chef Chicago (yay!), as well as get filmed (yes, filmed!) by a Food Network crew doing a documentary on Achatz, while gobbling down the aforementioned Alinea bacon offering (since I never signed the release form..maybe they’ll blur my face? But will they leave in my stretched out belly? Could I be recognized from my stomach??? Yikes…and then *faint* with a thud!)
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