*For all intents and purposes, it’s best if the following couple of lines are read out to you by someone else.
Keep your breathing light. Now, in the tranquil spirit of your meditation, envision yourself, lavishly dressed and comfortably seated at a familiar table set just for you. Waiters pace around, offering you flavours of a world unpermitted to most others. You feel at ease. Your world is but a paltry moment removed from utter bliss.
Suddenly, your surroundings rapidly disappear, folding back into that reality which was your own just a minute ago. How you long for it now, to feel that setting’s wondrous, snug embrace just for a second more…
Not to worry. As always, I’ve got you. That special place is downtown Chicago’s Alla Vita. Right now, however, your only two obstacles to finding it are the following: to read on, and then to thank me later.
Founded just five years ago, Alla Vita’s aura is easily enough to hook you from a block away. After occupying an impressive three-year-long spot on my radar, this year, on my eighteenth birthday, it was where I chose to celebrate. It was, by all means, a night to be remembered.
Upon entering its facility, my first impression was one of unvarnished allure. Undoubtedly curated by some world-renowned designer, the eatery’s interior was almost naturalistic, but congenially so, inhabited by inviting physical art amidst a magically dark air. The hosts were kind and the kitchen open. It felt somewhere in between warm and modern, or perhaps in some way encompassing both qualities at once.
Then, we sat down and placed an order. Over the following twenty minutes or so, one charm after another was delivered to our temporary abode: A bread whose crunchy outsides give way to a toasty, cheesy heart. A crunchy, gooey green lasagna (yes, you heard that right!). An excellent white pizza. Pastas whose elegance knows no bounds.
What was particularly striking, though, was the fare’s truly unique balance between originality and its Italian roots. The pizza was most everything a nonna might wish for (crisp and soft, with real heart put into it), and yet its truffle-y flavor was endearingly novel. The pasta sauce was tastily fresh, and yet the handmade noodles themselves were probably just about the most delicious ones I’ve had this side of the Atlantic. If you, like me, are a sucker for the Italian cuisine, there isn’t a chance you’ll be disappointed.
Replete and happy, my family and I were just about ready to get up when our waiter approached us, gifts in hand. They were two sorbets on-the-house, he explained; one for me for my birthday, and one in honour of our first time dining. Such warmth!
I dug in first, and the others followed. Now, I know that my compliments to Alla Vita until now have been quite emphatic, but believe me when I tell you: this was the second-best ice cream I have ever had. And this is from someone who grew up on dozens and dozens of yearly trips to any and every local ice cream shop I could find.
Wow. I mean, really—there isn’t much more to be said. Besides their flawless textures and enticing aromas, the tastes of both ice creams were just out-of-this-world. One titled Mango Passion Fruit and the other Cherry Basil (or something along those lines), each sorbet wove in multiple different savours at once. For the more memorable Cherry, for instance: at first you’d feel the treacly almond, then the beautifully sour cherry, and then another final tinge of sweetness at the end. Each morsel was magical. Their tastes still linger upon my tongue’s end as I write this.
Eventually, we left. It was an ideal ending to my last birthday at home. More than that, though, it was a reminder of that beauty in our world which often seems so evermore fleeting—that of the eatery’s feel and look, that of its patrons’ warmth, and, above all, that of its dangerously-exciting food. I seldom give recommendations for restaurants, but frankly, Alla Vita is in something of its own league. Go on to it. You won’t regret it.
