Life, on the Line by Grant Achatz (leveled readers .TXT) 📗

were present to hear that speech are still at the restaurant. It will be a true pleasure for me tomorrow when we gather as a staff, open some champagne, and I have the opportunity to thank them all for helping me achieve a goal I have had for ten years. And more importantly, we individually, and as a team, can bask in the accomplishment . . . if only for a few minutes before the front door opens, and we are reminded of the responsibility we have.

Best,

Grant

I was sitting in my home office reading e-mails when my cell rang with Grant’s familiar ring-tone. “Hey Chef, what’s up.”

When he finally got to the punch line I quite literally jumped in the air. “Number one? Are you sure?” I whooped and yelled and swore when Grant confirmed what I was hearing. “That is huge, Chef. Just huge. I can’t believe it. I mean, top ten would be an honor, right? Number one is insane. Do you know anyone else on the list?”

“Nope. That’s it. Just that we are number one.”

I really couldn’t believe it. That was a ballsy move and would definitely be controversial. I could see putting Alinea top five if they wanted to make a statement, but number one seemed, quite frankly, not possible.

We had very specifically stated that we wanted Ruth Reichl to declare that Alinea was number one in the United States just as she did, essentially, for The French Laundry. But that seemed like an unattainable goal, the kind you set out there as a benchmark that you will likely never reach. Alinea was only eighteen months old.

I was also keenly aware that achieving goals very quickly could produce unexpected emotional results. It happened to me in my trading career, and I immediately thought that the aftereffects of the listing could, ironically, be detrimental to Grant’s well-being.

“Chef, I don’t want to sound negative, but this is too soon.”

“What? You’re nuts. Can’t you let me enjoy the moment? What is wrong with you?”

I explained that I very much wanted him to enjoy the moment and that I was on my way down to celebrate with him and the staff. “Still, you need to guard against a letdown. You just achieved a major goal of yours. Alinea, your restaurant, listed at number one in the country is something you have always wanted. It is still a young restaurant and financially we are just getting rolling. I am worried about you, frankly. I want this to happen, but in some ways it is too soon. You just have to trust me on this.”

He clearly thought I was crazy, so I dropped it for then. “Okay. Whatever. Look, I am going to go to the bank and withdraw ten thousand dollars. I think we need to give our entire staff a cash bonus. Nothing says thank you like money, Chef.” I drew up a quick spreadsheet and divided out the money by the number of days an employee had been with us, including during our build-out. Even staff members that had been hired a week before got something. Several came up to me and told me that they had worked years in other top restaurants without so much as a thank-you. Grant told Joe and he ordered up a huge bottle of champagne.

The staff was summoned to the front dining room, and they could tell it was good news by the fifty champagne glasses being filled. As always, Grant gave a genuinely inspirational speech, then turned it over to me to hand out the money.

“Let’s remember what got us to this point,” I said. “We have to keep embracing the vision of Grant to constantly change and reinvent Alinea. However, for a moment, let’s just drink.”

Most people think that the constant evolution of Alinea’s cuisine is the result of one person—me—being struck by original ideas at every moment of the day, even when I sleep. Some diners speculate aloud while visiting the kitchen after their meal, wondering how we come up with the food. Sometimes that happens, but it’s very rare. Most of the time the ever-changing menu, the tireless pursuit of being constantly new, is the result of hard work.

The Grind.

In the kitchen we often refer to “The Push.” In our world, the push is the exact opposite force of the grind. You have to push to overcome the tendency to grind to a halt. It is a willful act.

It used to be that the next idea started late at night after all the cooks had gone home, the kitchen was clean, and the orders for the next day were called in. I would grab my laptop, some notebook paper, and a few key cookbooks that I use for ingredient referencing and hunker down in the dimly lit dining room. The staff always joked to the guests seated at Table 14 that they were sitting at my desk, and it was true.

When we were building Alinea, Tom Stringer asked quizzically while glancing over the blueprints, “Grant, where’s your office? I don’t see it on here.”

I laughed, pointed to the 900-square-foot kitchen and said, “Right there, Tom. If I’m behind a desk somewhere, I’m in the wrong place.” From 2:00 A.M. until around 4:00 I read the notes that I had jotted down on c-fold towels throughout the prep day, scan restaurant websites and food forums, and stare at a list of seasonal ingredients that we planned to focus on for the upcoming menu change. Occasionally, when I was really excited about an idea, I walked back into the kitchen and started to work out the idea right then. At 3:00 A.M. Some of my most personally fulfilling dishes came from being aware of my surroundings and recalling instances in a day that I somehow, in the moment, related to food.

And so, after the Gourmet edition came out and the news flashed Alinea as number one, I took Nick’s constant haranguing to heart.

I would not lose The