Alinea is a tour de force

Powdered bacon, seaweed smoke, candied tuna, lavender's scent meandering up to my nose. Those components contributed to the best meal I've eaten. Ever.

I shouldn't have been surprised, really. Those flavors, after all, came from chef Grant Achatz's kitchen at Alinea in Chicago.

Yes, that Grant Achatz -- the one the James Beard Foundation honored as Best Chef Great Lakes in the culinary world's version of the Oscars, and who snagged the Chicago culinary community's excellence award earlier this year.

Yes, that Alinea -- the Lincoln Park restaurant that Gourmet magazine honored in November 2006 as the top restaurant in the country and one of an elite group awarded five stars by the Mobil Travel Guide. (Chicago's only other five-star restaurant is Charlie Trotter's.)

Diners flock to this temple of progressive gastronomy from across the country, enduring two-month waits for reservations and blizzard-related airline delays, to share communion at Achatz's tables.

"Our food is emotionally charged," said Achatz, the 33-year-old leader of the avant-garde food movement taking hold of the nation. Of the 80 or so people who dine on any given night (the restaurant seats 68), "each of those people are going to feel something different," he said.

Achatz strips ingredients down to their basics and re-imagines them: Sardines get dehydrated and used like a sushi wrapper for a sublime mix of black olive, tomato and arugula; sweet strawberries partner with pungent wasabi for an unforgettable sensation; avocado is whipped into an airy mousse in a guava soup; duck pairs with a disk of mango; and yogurt floats upon a lavender-filled pillow.

Yet the Alinea experience transcends the food. There are no forks and knives waiting on the table. Instead, serving pieces have been specially designed for some of the dishes. Pull a pin and a potato ball falls into a buttery broth; honeydew slides from a shoehorn-like device into your mouth; a round-bottomed bowl can't be set down until the clam it harbors has been consumed.

"The serving pieces help us; they are necessary tools," Achatz said. "They allow us to break the monotony of eating with a fork or spoon, off a plate or bowl."

First-time visitors to Alinea might have a difficult time finding the restaurant, let alone opening their minds to this interactive approach to fine dining. The restaurant sits across the street and steps up from Steppenwolf Theatre in a modern graystone with curtained windows. No awning protrudes over the sidewalk broadcasting the eatery's name; no neon beverage sign flashes in the window.

Walking through the door, you're still not sure you're in the right place. The entrance hallway narrows and the ceiling slopes gradually lower in a Wonka-ish way, leading to an automatic door that opens to a hostess.

The restaurant is divided into four spacious dining rooms with oversized mahogany tables and custom upholstered chairs. The chairs have to be comfortable since diners spend three to six hours in them.

From the small waiting area, diners can glimpse the controlled atmosphere in the white and stainless steel kitchen. Fresh flowers rest at the edges of the rooms, providing aesthetic rather than olfactory pleasure.

When you make a reservation, the hostess asks whether you want the $135 tasting menu, about 12 courses on any given night, or the $195 tour menu, 24 courses, give or take.

Once at your table, you could ask for the night's menu, but that would ruin the element of surprise and the words on the menu can't begin to describe the depth of Achatz's vision. I recommend you just sit back and let Alinea happen.

My husband and I originally signed on for the tasting menu, but got caught up in the moment and, figuring we wouldn't get the chance to dine there again anytime soon and since we had the four-plus hours to invest, we opted for the tour.

On the face of it, a 24-course meal sounds like a challenge -- our menu actually contained 26 courses -- but keep in mind you're not facing two dozen Maggiano-sized plates. Achatz and his deftly trained staff craft singular bites that explode with intensity on taste, temperature and textural levels. Chilled tart apple essence seeps from a warm horseradish shell; cinnamon washes over foie gras (banned from sale in Chicago, I know, but presented as a gift from the chef); earthy black truffle bursts from a ravioli, sending shivers down the spine.

The menus generally start with vegetable and fish courses (nothing raw the night we dined), then proceed to a few sweet items, such as rhubarb presented seven ways and a wide ribbon of coconut draped over kiwi. Then the meatier dishes -- Kobe beef and spare ribs -- and a couple of dessert plates follow. Once the plates, or bowls, or prongs arrive at the table, the server explains the approach and what you might expect from the dish. Questions are encouraged, feedback welcomed. Some diners even digitally document their meals (flash prohibited).

"The servers, they're the narrators; they can explain the dish," Achatz said.

And then there's the wine.

Alinea has an 800-selection cellar sure to impress any oenophile and stymie any neophyte. Enter wine director and general manager Joe Catterson and his crew of sommeliers, including head sommelier Craig Sindelar. They've done the matching to save diners from headaches and potential heartbreak of improper pairings.

Seventy percent to 80 percent of the customers select the complementing wine menus, which means eight to 10 glasses with the tasting menu, and 12 or so with the tour, poured in amounts to complement the course or courses, not to send diners under the table. Many guests choose to supplement the wine tastings with a special bottle and can ask the staff to reduce the number of selections.

"It's not a cuisine, generally speaking," Catterson said of Alinea's ever-evolving hypermodern menu. "If you go to a steakhouse, any red wine will work. We're given a dish, and we take the time to find something to flatter it."

Sometimes that means opening a dozen bottles one afternoon, then coming back the next day and opening a dozen more. They might determine the wine style, even the winemaker early on, but taste several vintages before everything clicks.

"You have to consider the sweetness, the acidity, the salt … make sure it matches up texturally," Catterson said. "We have to consider the plates and the progression. A wine might get you ready for what's coming out or be a backdrop. Ideally, we find something that's a synergy between wine and food. The food brings out aspects of the wine, and the wine brings out aspects of the food."

Sometimes one of Achatz's creations poses a particular challenge. Catterson said a porcini mushroom dish served with cherry foam stumped him.

"When he first gave me the dish, I didn't know what to do with it," Catterson said. He paired it with Pinot Gris from Alsace "that I was never totally happy with," he said. "I thought there must be something that worked out better."

In the meantime, the restaurant served every last drop of the distributor's U.S. reserves, so he had to find a substitute. A Marsala from Sicily stepped up to the plate.

The food and wine pairings aren't the only challenges at the restaurant these days. Since the spring awards, diner interest in the restaurant remains feverish. The wait list for a Saturday reservation runs 100 people deep and tables are booked two months out. During the week you have a better chance at a table, but expect to be put on a list of 30-50 people if you want to get in within the month.

Even though Achatz learned in July that he has cancer, it hasn't slowed the pace. He's started chemotherapy for squamous cell carcinoma of the mouth and has treatments scheduled for Tuesdays when the restaurant is closed "so I can continue to be at Alinea full-time during this period," he said.

"I will be very much engaged in Alinea. I will let the doctors focus on the cancer; after all, that is what they do," Achatz said. "My obligation to them and the healing is to stay active, positive and healthy. … The only way I know how to do that is through work."

Doctors at the University of Chicago are trying to save his tongue and preserve his sense of taste using an atypical method of surgery with chemotheraphy and radiation. He said that this second round of treatment will take him away from the restaurant more often. Still, Achatz is "100 percent confident" his staff will continue to fulfill his culinary vision. Chef de cuisine Curtis Duffy has been with Achatz from their days at the now-shuttered Trio in Evanston and both trained under the venerable Thomas Keller at The French Laundry in Yountville, Calif.

"The staff is a solid group of passionate professionals. On a nightly basis they shine -- with me there or not," Achatz said.

He said he continues to look toward the future, personally and professionally.

"The planning for the fall menu has already begun," he wrote in an e-mail during a chemo session.

"My role as a chef has already evolved a great deal since the opening of the restaurant. At some point the chef must make a decision on how to manage his/her time," he said. "If constant re-invention is the identity of the restaurant, and that is what is expected, then someone needs to devote an enormous amount of time developing new concepts and ideas. That will be my focus during the periods of time that I am away from the restaurant, and while I am able to work I will certainly be there … doing what I do."

Alinea

1723 N. Halsted St., Chicago, (312) 867-0110, www.alinea-restaurant.com

Cuisine: Upscale, progressive American

Setting: Comfortably contemporary rooms in dark woods and warm fabrics

Price range: 12-course tasting menu $135; 24-course tour menu $195; wine pairings about $90 to $140

Hours: Dinner seatings 5:30 to 9:30 p.m. Wednesday through Friday; 5 to 9:30 p.m. Saturday and Sunday

Accepts: Major credit cards; reservations required