Inside Alinea’s 20th Anniversary Tour: Grant Achatz, Greg Baxtrom, and the Legacy That Came Full Circle

The Return to Alinea—and the Long Shadow It Casts

The idea for Alinea Brooklyn didn’t start with a grand plan. It started with a vague, almost sheepish text. “You can say no,” Grant Achatz wrote to Greg Baxtrom. No context. No details. Just a soft ask from a chef who, for all his reputation, still approaches the big swings with a sense of risk.

Eventually, the pitch came through: bring Alinea to Olmsted as part of a three-city tour marking the restaurant’s 20th anniversary. What Achatz didn’t realize at the time was that Olmsted had doubled in size since his last visit. “He thought I still had one tiny kitchen,” Baxtrom says. “Now it’s a compound.” There are gardens, private dining rooms, a service kitchen, even a basement. That scale—and that flexibility—allowed them to create something sprawling and cinematic. Five rooms. Dozens of staff. A dish served in a moss-lined hallway. Dessert across the street in a borrowed pizza shop.

It was theatrical, yes. But for Achatz, it was also personal. Alinea Brooklyn was the first time he brought his flagship restaurant to New York—a market long known for ignoring, or at least downplaying, what happens beyond its borders. “He didn’t want to do some conventional night back in Chicago,” Baxtrom says. “He wanted to go big.”

And it wasn’t just a greatest hits tour. While some of the dishes—hot potato, cold potato, black truffle explosion—were iconic callbacks, many were chosen for more sentimental reasons. There was a strawberry-squab dish Baxtrom used to cook. A powdered skate dish that reminded Achatz of a story he loves: Baxtrom, out of bananas mid-service, sprinting three blocks to a corner store, tossing cash on the counter, and making it back before anyone noticed he was gone. “He just loves that story,” Baxtrom says. “So we brought the dish.”

It wasn’t quite nostalgia. It was something closer to reconciliation—with the past, with each other, and with a version of fine dining that changed everything. “I still have a soft spot for those early Alinea years,” Baxtrom says. “That crew—John Shields, Curtis Duffy, Jordan Kahn—we’re all still in each other’s lives. It shaped us.”

And now, two decades later, they’re shaping it back.

Why He Still Has Something to Prove

Grant Achatz has spent two decades building one of the most acclaimed restaurants in the world. Alinea holds three Michelin stars, a perennial spot on “World’s Best” lists, and a permanent place in the culinary canon. And yet, beneath all that acclaim, there’s still something unsettled. A flicker of doubt. A voice in the back of his mind asking: What’s next? And am I still good enough to do it?

“It’s always been about validation,” he says. “Not just from diners or critics, but from the people I admire. From my peers.”

That drive is what led to Alinea Brooklyn—not just a celebration, but a test. A chance to bring his flagship to New York, where the dining scene has historically looked inward, slow to praise anything beyond its own boroughs. “There’s always been this question of, can Chicago compete on the same level?” Achatz says. “This was my way of answering that. Of saying: yes.”

But it’s not just about geography. It’s about proving that Alinea, after 20 years, still matters. That he still matters.

“Creative angst,” he calls it. The feeling that if he’s not pushing forward, he’s standing still. “I feel dead if I’m not making something new,” he says. “That’s why this tour exists. That’s why I still cook.”

It’s a restlessness that’s always defined him. From the early molecular gastronomy years to his current emphasis on immersive storytelling, Achatz has constantly evolved—often before diners even realize what’s changing. Alinea Brooklyn wasn’t a throwback. It was a reaffirmation. A reminder that the creative fuel is still there, still burning, still insatiable.

And for all his accolades, what Achatz still craves most is the nod—from someone like Thomas Keller, his longtime mentor. When asked who he still seeks approval from, he doesn’t hesitate. “Thomas,” he says. “Always.”