Finally, I paid my dues, climbed up the long ladder into the treehouse and drank the Kool-Aid at Next…or this go around, it was sake. Let's just say, we left wanting to return for the next round when in fact, I showed up completely on edge. Let me back up. Since the moment Next opened, I sort of felt like I was being hazed by someone on the inside. Yes, of course it's all in my head, but I was convinced. I diligently tried to get tickets but to no avail…Paris, Thai, Childhood, and especially Sicily. Like everyone else, I checked the website, Facebook and asked my friends in the industry but never managed to secure tickets. It never fails when people hear what I do they ask me, "Have you been to Next?" No, I haven't because someone over there is messing with me. I can't get tickets, damn it. By the time the new menu Autumn in Kyoto rolled around, it was on.
Late one evening, My Stanford texted, "tables available right NOW for Next…HURRY!" Knocking kids out of the way and hurdling sofas, I scurried upstairs to my computer and finally scored my first set of tickets to Next Kyoto. Four coveted seats for a 9.30 p.m. to be exact. Not the best time slot, but I got them. After months and months of people asking me for help to get them tickets (stop asking, I'm busy trying to get my own) I knew finding two more interested diners (because Prince Charming was obvsiously my plus one) would not be difficult.
Well see, here's where things get a little interesting with this ticketing process. I don't love it. I know Next does. But I don't. Most of my friends are in the food industry to some extent. The ones that aren't are still food-minded and I came to find out they all had their own tickets. Eh, I thought, someone will want to go right? Fast forward to game day. I still have two very expensive tickets just hours before. I posted them on Next's Facebook page at the restaurant's suggestion. I got one offer that day and with only two hours to go…I sold the other ticket. I spend the entire day texting, emailing and calling around trying to find someone to go. To say I was stressed throughout this whole process, is an understatement. After months of beg, borrow and steal tactics to procure tickets, I was resenting the most celebrated chef for causing me so much grief to earn my way into his establishment. If it's this much work to dine there, is it really worth it? I mean, I was now stomping my way there like I was being forced on a playdate with the bully in the sandbox soley based on his ticketing process. Plus, we were headed to experience one of the most prestigious restaurants in the world with strangers. I was having culinary anxiety.
However, what started out shrouded in stress, truthfully, turned into an enlightening and lovely experience. One guest, of Asian decent, is an executive chef and the other guest is a high level server at another tasting-menu establishment working towards her sommelier certificate. He had a personal and professional understanding of the menu and she could speak to the pairings. My knowledge base was trumped on all accounts and I was thrilled. They were both great dinner companions and Prince Charming was happily along for the ride.
I never care for food blogs that labor over each dish. I prefer to share the overall experience flecked with a few highlights. Next is about the experience and no matter how great of a writer you are, it's difficult to translate, and almost unfair at times. I've read all the reviews and having been on the Kyoto adventure, so much is lost in a little post. And while I may have stomped in, I most definitely skipped out. Did I love every single element of the meal, no. But dining a la Achatz is a cerebral meal that layers flavors, textures, aromas and extraordinary visuals alongside what almost seems like an elaborate and playful experiment. Autumn in Kyoto is chefs Grant Achatz and Dave Beran beautiful study of the Japanese culture. From special hand-picked leaves and twigs to the lovely little Japanese dishes for plating, burning hay and pine needles over hot stones spark your senses, everything was impressive and heightened the experience.
As for the meal itself, they had me at the husks. We began with a burnt corn husk tea, sweet smelling with a toasty taste. The sashimi was, of course, amazing. Fresh, clean and simple just as you would expect. And I mentally made peace with chef Grant when the Japanese maple forest was presented at the table, a stunning three-dimensional masterpiece. I popped the fried shrimp head, eyeballs and all, in my mouth like a Japanese chip. But far and away, the red miso soup with waygu beef was heavenly and the perfect savory finish. The 12-course menu took three and half hours to complete and we rounded out the evening with a peek in the kitchen.
Now that I sipped the Kool-aid, the stress is starting back up about getting tickets for the upcoming iteration, The Hunt. Let's hope I don't have to knock down any little old ladies to get to my computer.
Next
953 W. Fulton
Chicago, Il. 60607
