Life, on the Line: The story of Grant Achatz and my time at Alinea

His name is synonymous with the food world.  At only 37 years of age Grant Achatz has received more media coverage than anyone else in the food industry.  If you haven't heard of the gastronomic destination that is Alinea, you're living under a rock.  His techniques have inspired chefs all over the world.  What is the most important aspect of all of this, though, is his incredible story of how he got there.

Life, on the Line explains in full detail the life of Grant Achatz.  I first learned of Chef Achatz back in 2004, before he had become the widely popular chef he is today.  As a writing assignment for my last culinary school class, the professor had asked us to write a letter requesting employment from a restaurant.  Many of my classmates had written letters addressed to the best restaurants in New York City, including Daniel, Le Bernardin, and Jean-Georges.  I, however, after doing a little research, learned of a young chef making a name for himself in the small town of Evanston, Illinois.  His name was Grant Achatz, and at age 29, earned himself four stars from the Chicago Tribune at Trio.

It wasn't just the four star rating which gained my attention and appreciation for Grant Achatz.  It was all the awards he was gathering for himself.  Five diamonds from Mobil, the James Beard Award for Rising Star Chef, one of the ten Best New Chefs from Food & Wine Magazine.  The young chef who looked no more than 16, standing there on Trio's website in full chef whites, arms crossed, and a warm smile, had it all to me. It was then I started doing research on him.

Grant Achatz basically grew up around food.  His parents owned a diner which was called The Achatz Depot.  He was a mere five years old when he started washing dishes in his parents' restaurant, standing on a milkcrate over the three-compartment sink.  Throughout the years he spent the weekends at the diner, and by age ten, finally graduated to working the line, flipping eggs for plenty of customers.  He explains this as being the favorite time of his life.  He loved every aspect of working in a kitchen.

At the age of 19, Grant knew what he wanted to do with the rest of his life, and that was cook.  After receiving blessings from his parents, he did just that.  After a painstaking wait, his acceptance letter from the Culinary Institute of America finally came in 1993.  He was on his way to achieving greatness.

He, much like I did when I attended culinary school, was appalled by the attitude of most of his classmates.  They had no drive in them and treated the classes as "an interruption to their leisure activities".  Grant was there for one reason, and one reason only, to cook and gain as much knowledge as possible in a short amount of time.  He worked as a cook for years in his parents' restaurant.  The CIA was his ticket to becoming a chef.

After graduating from the CIA with high honors, and completing his externship at The Amway in Grand Rapids, Michigan, Grant then set his sights on the city.  He was hired at the best restaurant in the country, Charlie Trotter's in Chicago.

I knew from reading up on Grant Achatz over the years that his time spent at Charlie Trotter's was short, but after reading in detail his time there, it made me relate to him even more.  It was his first day in the kitchen of the amazing four-star restaurant.  He was amazed by what he saw around him.  Cooks in clean, pristine chef whites, pushing 14 hour days, changing the menu on a whim, and always weary to be scolded by Charlie Trotter himself.  Grant was helping out the pastry chef, who had asked him to blanch peaches for her.  After dropping too many peaches into the water at once, the water stopped boiling.  It was then when Grant heard a familiar voice, "Is this how we blanch peaches?".  Charlie Trotter had noticed the mistake, and in front of the entire kitchen, called Grant out on it.  Charlie wanted nothing but perfection, and he demanded it.  He then announced the peaches dessert was off the menu for the evening, and scoldly looking at the pastry chef, made her realize it was her responsibility to watch her assistants.

Grant only lasted about three months at Trotters before finally quitting.  Trotter had made it clear to Grant that if Grant wasn't going to give him a full year, he didn't exist to Trotter.  He did not want his name mentioned, he did not want to be used a reference.  Grant was burning the only bridge he had, but he felt inside that this restaurant was not for him, and he needed to move on.  It was a great move on his part.

A few months later, Grant landed at a restaurant that would shape the rest of his career.  He was now a commis, working at The French Laundry in Napa, California.  At the time, The French Laundry wasn't nationally known.  In fact, Grant's parents were worried why he wanted to move out to a little town in California to work at a restaurant he knew very little about.  But he felt something on the inside, and soon found a mentor in the Executive Chef, Thomas Keller, who in a short time would soon be revered as the best chef in the United States.

Grant spent four years under the direction of Chef Keller, and after spending some time working in a vineyard in Napa, would soon become a sous chef at The French Laundry.  He was rising fast, and with it so was his ego.  As he helped Thomas Keller put new dishes on the menu, Grant couldn't help but start to envision running his own kitchen.  Dish after dish was created in his head.  He started pairing foods together that Thomas Keller never would have thought about.  Grant thought big, and wanted more.

Keller had then done something for his trusted sous chef that shaped the rest of Grant's career.  He had set him up with a stage at elBulli in Roses, Catalonia, Spain.  Closing its doors just four days ago on July 30th, 2011, ElBulli was "the most imaginative generator of haute cuisine on the planet, and does a great deal of work on molecular gastronomy".  Chefs all over the world were inspired by Ferran Adria's (the Executive Chef) forward way of thinking.  He didn't just create dishes, he reimagined them.  He pushed the envelope.  He never wanted to give diners what they could receive all over the world.  He wanted to be different.  He played with flavors, textures, scents, smells, and colors.  In just one week of spending time at elBulli, Grant's view of cooking was changed forever.  He was inspired, and more determined than ever to start running his own kitchen.

His next move put him in contact with Henry Adaniya, the owner of a small fifty-five seat restaurant called Trio outside of Chicago.  After months of constant emails, a knockout tasting, and building a relationship, Henry decided to invest in the young chef, and they both reinvented the restaurant and helped Grant Achatz make a name for himself.  It was during Grant's third and final year of running Trio, that our lives interwove.

As my final writing assignment I decided to write a letter to Grant Achatz of Trio requesting employment.  His story up until this point was completely inspiring to me.  Unlike my other classmates, I had direction and depth to my letter.  I had done my research, I had purpose, and what started off as a simple writing assignment for my final class, all then became too real.  After reading my proposal, my professor said the letter was one of the best she's ever read, and encouraged me to send it to Trio.  Surprised at her reaction at first, the next day I did just that.

It was just three days later I got an email from Grant Achatz himself.  Short, precise, and direct to the point, he thanked me for my interest and explained to me that Trio was undergoing some changes, and it was not a right time for me to come on board.  He then finished the letter with "I have a feeling we will meet one day".

As I read the letter I didn't think of it as a chef blowing me off.  There was something comforting in that letter. Not just the way it was written, but the fact that he took the time to write to me personally made all the difference to me.  As I soon started my career, finishing my externship and working in New Jersey, I found out over the next few months that this young chef was indeed telling me the truth.  It was over the course of the next 14 months he would embark on creating the most exciting dining destination in the United States.  After forming a business relationship with Nick Kokonas, the two started planning and building Alinea in the Lincoln Park area of Chicago.

Life, on the Line goes into great detail of what went into planning, executing, and building Alinea.  Finding the right space, formulating ideas, the right serviceware, tables, chairs, backdrops, colors, layouts, investors, permits, and the food.  Grant and Nick publicly announced their plans for the upcoming restaurant, and wrote them in detail using the website eGullet.  As they spent hours upon hours each day getting each detail correct, I followed their every move reading everything they had to share.  I was moved.  In May, 2005, after an incredible amount of media attention, Alinea opened its doors to the public.

That same month, I also had switched jobs.  I came back to NY after spending a year with one of the best chefs in NJ, and was now working as a hotel saucier under the direction of Sonny Samarosano.  Sonny had spent years refining his technique in some of NY's greatest restaurant institutions, including the Rainbow Room, Windows of the World, and the legendary Lespinasse.  As much as I enjoyed working with him, I wanted more.  I wanted to make a name for myself.  I had dreams of working for whom many now considered the best chef in the country.  I wanted to work for Grant.

In the beginning of August, 2005, I decided to give it another shot.  I wrote Grant Achatz a heartwarming letter of why I wanted to work for him, as well as reminded him of our short email exchange a year beforehand.  I then sent it off, hoping I would hear from him in a short time just like I had before.  This time was different, though.  A week went by and no response.  I decided to try again.  Nothing.  Much like Grant did with Thomas Keller trying to get hired at The French Laundry, I then sent Grant an email every day for five days straight.  I then finally heard back from him.

It read:

"Zia,

 If you'd like to set up a stage please call the kitchen number and talk to John Peters.

 Grant"

I remember reading Grant's comforting response to my letter a year beforehand, but this response triggered an entirely different emotion in me.  As happy as I was, I couldn't help but feel I just annoyed the shit out of him.  However, I didn't waste any time.  I called John Peters and made an appointment to stage at Alinea the following week.  I gave Sonny a week notice, bought a plane ticket, packed five uniforms, my sharp knives, and the following Tuesday, August 16th, 2005, I landed in Chicago.

A friend of mine hooked me up with a friend of hers in Chicago, and his name was Steve.  Steve stayed in the Vietnamese area of Chicago, just a five minute walk from Clark Street which was also known as restaurant row, and a ten minute train ride to Lincoln Park.  Steve picked me up from the airport, and we decided to go check out where Alinea was.  I was so incredibly pumped up and excited to see the restaurant that I have been reading about for so long, with my own eyes for the first time.

As we drove down Halsted Ave we parked his car across the street from the restaurant.  As I laid eyes on the refurbished brownstone building a sense of wonder draped over me.  "This is it?", I thought to myself.  From the outside it looked so...simple.  The name of the restaurant wasn't even visible.  Just the numbers 1723 hanging in gold adjacent to the front door.  We peeked into the windows to find all but three tables in a dismal gray-colored dining room.  I quit my job and flew all the way to Chicago on a whim for this?

Steve didn't have much in his studio apartment.  He set me up to sleep on the floor of a carpeted, blocked off area of the apartment so I could receive at least some sort of privacy, while he slept on a futon on the other side of a high barrier dividing us.  I didn't care, in fact I was extremely thankful for having a place to stay for the week.  At the time I was earning a mere $11 an hour from the hotel, which by cook standards is pretty high after just starting out.  He left early in the morning, and by 10am I was showered, dressed in slacks and a tie, threw my knife kit and uniform over my back, and on August 17th, 2005 headed to Alinea.

They had asked me to be in the kitchen by 12pm, and this was the same call time for the rest of the kitchen team.  I was outside Alinea by 10:30am.  Realizing I had gotten there way too early, I headed for a slice of pizza across the street, and then waited patiently outside the front door for someone to arrive.  By 12pm, I was still waiting.

I called the reservation line at Alinea and asked how to get into the building.  They explained I had to come in through the back door, and I had wished someone told me earlier.  I was now arriving late at the most important stage I would have in my entire life.  As I made my way to the back of the building, I opened the door and found a serious looking Grant Achatz, dressed in chef whites, black pants, crocs, and a blue butcher apron, approaching me very quickly.

There were stairs leading to the basement on my left, and he headed straight for them.  I stopped him abruptly, held out my hand, smiled at him, and introduced  myself.  "Hi Chef, I'm Zia."  "Great, follow me."  We quickly ran down the stairs with me muttering "It's such an honor to finally meet you."  He then stopped, quickly turned, and slammed his left hand on the door next to him.  "Men's locker room. Get changed, and I'll see you in the kitchen."

Walking upstairs into the Alinea kitchen for the first time I was shocked.  No, I was amazed.  To this day I have never seen anything like it.   Two long, shiny, silver tables stood in the middle of the room.  In the back were three reach-in refrigerators, and next to them a speedrack holding tomatoes, unpeeled garlic, and onions.  A three compartment sink laid in the back of the room.  To the right, in the middle of the shiny tables, was a four-burner, ehh...induction, stove.  To the left were windows, which peered to the back of the adjacent building which was a child-care nursery.  The silver tables which ran the middle of the room had hidden compartments for a cryovac machine, kitchen equipment, flour and salt bins, lowboys, and spices.  It was surreal.  No walk-in refrigerator.  No gas burners.  This place didn't look like a kitchen.  It looked like a lab, and I became nervous.

I met John Peters, a large 400 pound man with a beard who came from Texas.  He took me, and two other stages that were there at Alinea and showed us around the restaurant.  Not peeking in through the window this time I couldn't help but feel Alinea was so incredibly simplistic and beautiful.  The sixty-five seat restaurant screamed elegance and comfort.  I was mesmerized by the glass tubes which sat on the counter behind the tables, as well as the floating staircase.

All the cooks I met that day were incredibly focused.  They were the most professional kitchen brigade I have ever witnessed.  No one spoke.  They worked in complete silence with speed, precision, and dedication.  I met one cook who told me most of them worked for under $10 an hour.  I met another who told me he had been working for the past two months for free.  This all seemed crazy to me, but I couldn't help but feel in awe of their dedication.  This is what it took to be a world-class restaurant.

In fact, every action every cook, as well as the rest of the staff that day, spoke louder to me than any conversation I could have had with anyone.  The professionalism in that kitchen was astounding, especially Grant Achatz himself.  There he was, standing at the front of the pass, working on the centerpieces for the dining tables that night.  At the time, it was ginger.  There he stood, with 30 pounds of it, peeling, cutting, and setting each piece on prongs that would lie in the middle of each table.  As I was helping the meat cook which worked across from him, I asked Chef Achatz if he needed any help.  Bending forward over the table, and slightly moving his head to the right as he didn't hear me responded, "What??" "Chef, do you need any help?" "NO".  It was a stern no, and he put his head down, and went straight back to work.  The meat cook then gave me a project very quickly.  I thought I had just offended him by asking if he needed help.

At 4pm, the meat cook then told me to break down and get ready for family meal.  I assured him I wasn't hungry and I could keep working.  What then happened made my jaw drop.  The entire kitchen, in unison, cleaned up all their projects, wiped down the tables, grabbed chairs from the basement, and turned the kitchen into the family meal dining room.  The entire staff stopped everything, and ate together.  In NY family meals are eaten, if anything, in a staff cafeteria or on your station if you have the time to do so.  Here, they made it important to eat as a "family".

In a half hour they were back in full swing, and by 5:30 they were in service.  The expediter started calling out orders, and in unison once more, the kitchen responded with "Two Tour!", "Four Tasting!"  Their level of discipline was amazing.

At 7pm, though, I would be the cause of delaying the incredibly smooth service.  Jeff Pikus was working the hot garde manger station at the time along with one other cook.  One of their dishes was a tasting of English peas, with homemade yogurt foam, which sat atop a lavender-scented pillow.  The technique for the pillow was pretty straightforward.  A reverse vacuum, which the kitchen dubbed "the volcano", was filled with lavender seeds.  It then shot out lavender air which was trapped in a cryovac bag, sealed, and laid in a white, ironed pillowcase.  The pillows were then prodded with a cake tester right before going out to the table, and the dish of peas sat atop them.  The pressure of the plate released the lavender air, and made the tasting that much more surreal.

I told Jeff I was interested in filling the pillows, and for a while I was doing fine.  Then came the hit of the night, and I needed to make 12 of them, very quickly.  The volcano needed to be emptied of the lavender seeds every three bags they filled, to keep the lavender air fresh.  Dismantling the machine took time, though, and the insides were hot.  Painstakingly hot. I couldn't keep up.  I fell behind.  I got nervous.  As my forehead sweats starting forming, I thus began to make a mess on the table from dropping the seeds because I couldn't handle the heat of the machine.  Grant Achatz then made his way over to me.

"Do you see now nice and pristine those pillows are?  And you're fucking manhandling all of them!??"  One by one he started grabbing the pillows.  "This one needs more air!  So does this one!  This is a fucking joke!" He then proceeded to tell the runners to run the hot pea dish out without the pillows.  He looked at Jeff Pikus, "Two dishes guys.  Two fucking dishes is all you're responsible for!"  Jeff Pikus then looked at me with an angry look in his eyes.  It was then when the kitchen tournant John Shields stepped in.

Working with an intense speed, managed to fill all ten pillows that were needed and begged chef to wait to send the pea course out.  After five minutes, the dish went out perfectly, and I quietly backed into a corner.  I couldn't believe what had just happened.

As the kitchen started cleaning up, the Sous Chef Curtis Duffy allowed me to leave at 11pm.  I decided to walk back to Steve's place, and I couldn't hold back the tears.  I was here, in Chicago on a whim, a place I've been dying to work for months now, one of the best new restaurants in the country, and I let down my culinary idol.

The next morning I woke up in shock.  I woke up at 10am, and blindingly reached into my bag because I remembered I had a water bottle in there.  By now Steve was long gone.  After I brought my hand back out, and now fully awake, I screamed.  My entire bag, including my uniforms, clothes, knives, and even myself, was covered in ants.

I couldn't believe what was happening.  I quickly got up and shook myself free of them.  I threw my clothes into the shower and washed everything.  Steve's carpet, the only one in the entire apartment, was infested.

After taking a shower I quickly ran to the bodega down the street from his apartment and bought a can of Raid.   I went back to the apartment and sprayed the entire place.  My "room", the kitchen, the bathroom, the outside patio, everything.  I then made sure I was clean, left the can on the kitchen counter for Steve to see, and I went back to Alinea.

I arrived by 11:15am, and again was amazed by the discipline of the kitchen staff.  They all left work at 3am, and one by one arrived early and sat outside the restaurant.  At 11:45, they went inside like a brigade, changed together, and were all in the kitchen by noon.

I was a few minutes ahead of them, and got into the kitchen by 11:50.  In the kitchen was Grant, the Pastry Chef Alex Stupak, and Curtis.  I walked in with my head down, knowing I let Chef Achatz down the night before.  To my surprise he looked at me and smiled and said "Good Morning."  It was all the reassurance I needed to get through the day.

That day I helped a few cooks set up, and when family meal rolled around Grant had called a staff meeting.  He sat there in front of the kitchen, on a black bar stool eating his family meal quietly and keeping to himself.  He then addressed the kitchen on the wonderful news the Chicago Tribune had delivered the day before.  The same day I arrived, was the same day Alinea received its four-star review.

As the staff celebrated with a glass of champagne, and after a very motivational speech by Grant leading up to this point, I couldn't help but feel ashamed.  The same day Alinea received its four stars, which means absolute perfection, was the same day Grant was going to drop his standards and let a course go out less than perfect, due to my mistake.  I felt horrible, and I wanted to get out of there.

When service started I didn't touch anything.  I watched as the intense kitchen brigade pumped out 1000+ dishes that night.  By 8pm, I was struck with pain.  I don't know what happened.  All of a sudden, out of nowhere, a sharp pain went through my left foot.  I thought I might have just hit something and not realized.  But as the night progressed, it grew stronger.  After I got back to Steve's apartment, I didn't hesitate to run into the bathroom and inspect it.  I had grown an infection.

My only theory as to what had happened was that when I arrived in Chicago I had a cut on my left foot.  After sleeping on Steve's dirty floor and waking up covered in ants, I could only imagine this was the cause of it.  I couldn't believe it.  The next morning I woke up to the sight of no bugs around me, and still in excruciating pain, went in to Alinea.  That day, however, I didn't last long.

By 7pm I could no longer stand.  I asked Chef Duffy if I could leave, and with a disappointing look in his eyes, said nothing more than "You can do whatever you want".  I went back to the apartment and propped my leg up.  I decided to go see a doctor the next day, and that's when I realized I left my knives in a drawer at the restaurant.

The next day I traveled to Alinea, and at 10am, walked through the back door.  I found Grant Achatz alone in the kitchen, laying out the floor mats himself.  It was the first time we were able to have a conversation since I arrived here.  I told him what was going on, and he seemed generally concerned.  I didn't show him my foot, but he told me where to go to get it checked out.  I grabbed my knives out of the drawer, and with that, my time at Alinea was over.  Months after trying to get there, quitting my job, using every dollar I had to pay for a plane ticket, I spent just three days at the restaurant.  Two days later, I returned to NY, limped through the parking lot of the hotel, and asked Chef Sonny for my job back.  Fully healed, I returned to work a week later.

It didn't just stop at the four-star review from the Chicago Tribune for Alinea.  In the months and years that followed Alinea was named The Best Restaurant in the Country by Gourmet magazine, Grant had won the James Beard award for Best Chef Midwest and eventually Outstanding Chef. Alinea climbed to number 7 in the world by the standards of Restaurant magazine.  As much press as he was getting, though, irony had struck.  In 2007, the best chef in country was diagnosed with Stage IV tongue cancer.

I'll never forget when I first heard of the news of Grant's illness.  I was working the garde manger station at Tabla, and Chef de Cuisine Ty Kotz was showing me how to plate a new dish.  He knew I had staged at Alinea a few years beforehand.  It was he who told me the news.  He said Chef Cardoz received the news in an email chain that was going around the country.  I was floored.

If the book had stopped at explaining how Grant had rose from flipping eggs in his parents' diner to running the best restaurant in the country, it would be good read for anyone in this industry.  But the next few chapters that followed showed his determination to fight cancer and live.  Going through a series of radiation treatments, and still being in the kitchen as much as possible doing what he loved to do, running Alinea.

There was a period he couldn't talk, he lost over 50 pounds, weighing a feather-weight of 129 pounds.  He lost his sense of taste, which for any chef pretty much meant life was over.  But Grant was determined the beat the illness.  By December 2007, after intense treatment and surgery, the cancer had subsided, but he still couldn't taste anything.

It was early summer 2008.  I was helping open 10 Arts by Eric Ripert when I grabbed the latest issue of Food & Wine magazine, and read something truly inspirational.  They did a four page report on Grant Achatz overcoming his cancer, and inventing new dishes at Alinea with the help of now Chef de Cuisine Jeff Pikus.

Jennifer Carroll and I stood over the four page spread, and read the story of Grant Achatz regaining his taste. First came bitter, then came sweet, then salty.  One by one all the flavors started to register once again, and to his advantage, started creating and playing with flavors no one would ever imagine.  Jeff Pikus thought he was nuts, and to a level, Grant was.  But he knew what he was doing.

And thus his life returned to "normalcy".

Life, on the Line is an incredible story.  I have given a good rundown, but I encourage everyone to pick up this book and read everything in full detail about his inspirational story.  I'm not gonna lie, the first few chapters are hard to get into, but once his days at The French Laundry started, I couldn't put the book down.  Not just for people in the industry, but this is a good read for entrepreneurs as well, as he and Nick go into incredible detail about opening Alinea.  Or, if you're just looking for an amazing story of a guy go into detail about his cancer ordeal, and overcome it, this is a good read too.

Grant Achatz, I hope we can meet one more time in the future.