Here Chef Andrew puts the finishing touches on the sea bass. Feel the whimsy. (Photo: Michael Cirino)

Ladies and gentlemen, meet Michael Cirino. The frontman of traveling supper club A Razor A Shiny Knife got some serious ink this winter for his re-creation of chefs Grant Achatz and Thomas Keller’s 20-course bacchanal. Last month, in preparation for his Chicago dinner, Cirino was invited to stage at Achatz’s molecular temple, Alinea. See part one of this three-part series here. For part two, read on:

In my mind, the kitchen at Alinea would be filled with a cadre of scientists who happened to also love food. The whole group would be completely up-to-date on the ingredients that they were using and the processes that that kitchen pioneered. This was not the case.

The chefs at Alinea are just that—chefs. They are professionals whose primary focus is on ingredients that are much more familiar to the home cook then hydroxypropyl methylcellulose or sodium hexametaphosphate. The same sort of methodical teamwork that kept the room moving through the preservice cleaning was also at work when it came to conveying the most difficult of kitchen processes. If there was a gap in understanding, the team made up for it with precise demonstrations. Assured cooks translated to a team that could focus on the more pertinent task at hand: making consistently delicious food.

Absorbing the flavors of Alinea was at the heart of what I hoped to learn during this trip. Learning to constantly taste, adjust and rework flavors until they met the kitchen’s exact specifications was my primary goal. How was a cauliflower puree supposed to taste on a plate from Alinea? How much is too much salt for a truffle soup? Does the brand or age of the Parmesan matter when it is being cubed with butter and chives for that same truffle soup?

I’d learn soon enough: At 16:00, following family meal, the impending pressure of that evening’s service came into reality and the pace quickened tenfold.

I wasn’t sure how to be valuable as service picked up, so I tried to stay out of the way. Suddenly it was 19:00 and I hadn’t really felt a minute pass. I was enthralled by the dishes, the pace, the calm quiet that permeated the kitchen and the confidence that overflowed in every dish.

I was holed up near Craig, our mole in the Alinea organization (he is a cousin of one of ARASK’s key cooks and recipe writers, Brian Sullivan) and a general sympathizer with our cause. He was in charge of two of the most challenging dishes we had re-created in New York—lamb and sea bass—so I was extremely interested in learning all of their nuances.

We had picked up two orders of sea bass and I was delicately placing a sheet of chamomile sauce on the fish when Dave Beran, the chef de cuisine, tapped my shoulder and explained that I was no longer needed in the kitchen. A table was being prepared for me in the dining room and I needed to go make myself presentable. I was in shock, having never expected such a gift, but amazingly grateful, as I had no idea how I was going to sneak a taste of the sauces or gels without risking ruining a dish or a plating.

I went downstairs, changed out of my chef’s coat and got ready for what would be the best meal of my life.

I could regale you with details of all the scrumdiddlyumptiousness that the 20-plus-course feast provided, but let’s keep that foodie-masturbatory nonsense for another blog post and allow me to proceed with brevity: From the bread to the waitstaff, the wine and the water pairings—it was all amazing. The experience of Alinea’s “touring” menu is truly one of this world’s greatest pleasures.

Monday: Day two at Chez Achatz. Plus, which Alinea dish requires 111 ingredients?