Saturday night, Irene and I went to Brigadoon. Or at least … that’s how I think of it.

If you’ve been visiting here for awhile, you’ve already heard about Next, the Chicago restaurant that reinvents itself three times a year, totally changing its menu in an explorations of new cuisines. I’d already been there for Sicily, Kyoto, The Hunt, and Vegan.

I think of Next as Brigadoon because it’s here … and then gone. Unlike with other restaurants, you can’t say, oh, I’ll get there next year. Because whatever’s there now won’t be there a year from now. You’ve only approximately a three-month window in which to experience a meal, and then … it’s history.

Which is why Irene and I flew to Chicago Saturday specifically so we could experience Next’s final menu of 2013, a tribute to the Bocuse d’Or competition.

We sat at the Kitchen Table, which is the only table in the house capable of accommodating six people, and also the only one with a view of … well … the kitchen. I’ve been in the main dining room before, and loved my time there as well, but there’s something about seeing the process that’s captivating to me.

They say you should never see sausage being made, but the more I’ve eaten at restaurants with views of the kitchen, the more I feel that adage only works as a metaphor. I actually do want to see how the sausage is made. And the soufflé. And the consommé. And the pheasant …

I’ve purchased Kitchen Tables in the past with no idea who’d be joining me at them, and at the same time having no fear that I’d be unable to find willing co-conspirators. You can get away with that at a restaurant like Next, where the demand is so much greater than the supply. If I can’t find friends willing to join me the night I’m in town, putting the news out there on Next’s Facebook page that I have free seats at my table generally gets it filled within 24 hours by copacetic foodies. So if you’re lucky enough to get a table at Next, whatever the size, never worry—you’ll be able to fill it.

But enough of that! What you really want to know is … how was the food?

When we were seated at the table a little before our 6:45 reservation time, we found …

Terrine of veal with frisée salad and cipollini marmalade

There was a cover atop the red, rectangular serving dish, which when lifted revealed a layer of frisée salad, beneath which was hidden the terrine of veal. It was one of my favorite dishes of the night, rich and well-seasoned, with more of it at the table than we could possibly eat, especially since we were warned by the server that there’d be a lot of food coming, and so we shouldn’t try to polish it off, but instead save room for what was to follow.

Later that night, when it was all over, I wished I hadn’t observed that advice. It was that good.

Once the table was cleared, the first dish to be brought to the table was …

Osetra caviar with whipped buerre blanc and pine nut

The plating alone was an exercise in decadence—four progressively smaller gold-rimmed plates atop which sat one perfect bite. I popped it into my mouth whole and crushed it with my tongue against the roof of my mouth.

Delicate, delightful, and so over the top in presentation that it made me laugh.

Next came …

Mousse of darden ham and madeira aspic

Again, multiple plates framed a single bite. Well … make that two bites, as you can see below.

Smooth and rich, this dish was, assuming I’m correctly reading the menu we were each handed at the end of the night, from a Paul Bocuse recipe.

Soufflé of prawns

The third of what the menu classified as hors d’oeuvres courses was a delicate soufflé, and yet one full of life.

I could sense the sea …

Custard of cauliflower with verjus rouge, rose, and foie gras

This dish that I find myself thinking back to most is this custard of cauliflower.

Which is surprising to me, as I’d have predicted it would be the pheasant or one of the desserts which would later send me into a dreamlike state.

But no, this is the one that put the biggest smile on my face. You would not have wanted to hear the sounds that came out of my mouth as I licked the spoon that night. (Or maybe you would have. I don’t know you well enough to say.)

Charred lettuce, bottarga, bonito, and peanut

This fifth and final of the hors d’oeuvres was the only dish of the night that didn’t touch me on an emotional level. I was not wowed, which, I know, is a lot to ask of any dish. Next sets the bar pretty high though, so I find myself thinking that at any other restaurant, this dish might very well have been a star. Context is everything.

One thing the Bocuse d’Or competition is known for are the elaborate presentation platters prepared by the participating countries, and Next replicated this by having servers parade through the restaurant multiple times each night bearing similarly extravagant platters. Here’s the fish platter being carried through the dining room, which for this menu has been decorated with flags from the countries which compete.

Each march through the dining room ended at our Kitchen Table, where we were lucky enough to get a closer look.

The first of two fish courses was …

Ivory char with coddled eggs, celeriac, and cranberry

… followed by …

Quinault river salmon with beets, browned butter, and parsley

The platings, as always, were works of art, and the flesh of the fish was perfectly cooked. Then came …

Consommé of roasted mushrooms

This was apparently another classic Paul Bocuse dish. The consommé was rich with an almost meaty mushroom flavor, while the puff pastry which domed it was flakey and delicious.

This was followed by the presentation of the second Bocuse d’Or platter, the pheasant. I failed to record the parade through the restaurant, but here’s what it looked like during the pause at our table.

The resulting dish was the most whimsical (and one of the most memorable) of the night …

Pheasant smoked in hay with grilled baby leek, caramelized onion, and sauce blanquette

… giving the appearance of a flower pot which had been knocked over, its contents scattered.

Then came the display of the third and final Bocuse d’Or platter—the beef.

Here’s what it looked like during its pause at our table.

And here’s a close-up so you can see the ribeye of beef with boudin vert before it’s sliced and plated as …

Ribeye of beef with boudin vert, roasted carrot, sauce bearnaise, and potato marrow

Irene was particularly impressed by the bearnaise sauce, but as for me, I loved it all.

What came next, the cheese course, I sadly forgot to photograph. I did, however, record of few seconds of video …

Tete de moine with cashews, pear, and milk skin

Behind the server, shaving a cheese we were told had been served back during the days of the French Revolution, you can see the globular dish waiting to receive a blossom-shaped helping. It was a strong cheese, one which paired well with the other ingredients … one of which was, as Steve Silver has reminded me in the comments below, petals from the roses in our centerpiece flash-frozen in liquid nitrogen!

Then, the desserts …

Ice cream bombe in the style of apple pie

A cube of squash with huckleberry, butter pecan ice cream, and pecan oatmeal cookie

… followed by mignardises …

Truffle of chocolate and hazelnut, butterscotch macaron, bitter chocolate taffy

The macarons were as delicate as I’ve ever had, so delicate it’s hard to believe they could have been moved to their tray without gaining a chef’s fingerprints or the mark of a utensil in the process. What other macaron will ever compare?

We left Next at around 11:15, some four and a half hours after we’d arrived. I don’t know about our co-conspirators, but Irene and I walked several miles up and down Michigan Avenue to decompress from the experience and relive what had just occurred.

Another amazing meal from the Next team. And, just like Brigadoon, only with us for a brief while. If you’ve bothered to read this all the way to the end, you’re probably the kind of person who should experience it for yourself. But act fast—come December 31, it all goes away, to be replaced shortly thereafter by Chicago Steakhouse.

So don’t miss it!