Inner

Inner is a restaurant about the personal. About what is valuable but unseen, important but hidden. About memories, feelings, and emotions. About the ability not only to see beauty but also to feel it. Alexey Alexeev presents his second authorial project on Malaya Raznochinnaya Street, the name of which speaks for itself.

Unlike Futurist, which became a manifesto for the chef-restaurateur, Inner feels like a confession. This subtly designed, ascetic restaurant, meticulously planned down to the smallest detail, took two years to build, and everything in it is different. Instead of bright imagery, there is a carefully curated collection of symbols and metaphors. The matte, textured glass from a glassblowing workshop affiliated with the Stieglitz Academy of Arts and Industry is a nostalgic nod to childhood treasures – polished crystal shards found on the beach. The textured wooden coasters, as if carved with a knife, evoke an irresistible desire to touch them, exploring the patterns with your fingertips. The handcrafted ceramics and asymmetrical, pristine white porcelain are like scraps of paper on which an eager artist repeatedly paints, perhaps their masterpiece. And the root, as a symbol of a hidden but important meaning, permeates the space of Inner: from the painting on the wall of the bakery by St. Petersburg artist Veronika Rud'eva-Ryazantseva to the embroidery hidden on the linen napkins.

Each of the three spaces is imbued with meaning by designer Yevgenia Uzhegova, helping to create the desired atmosphere. The first dining room, with its large windows and undulating ceiling, adorned with Alexander Gerasimov's "Botanical Manuscripts," flows into the second, more intimate space, where the smooth lines of the vault become a dome, and the restrained asceticism borders on sacredness. Even the open kitchen reinforces this leitmotif, because every temple has its altar, and here it serves as a tribute to the craft as an art form. Developing the idea of hidden meanings, Uzhegova transforms a separate room into a jewelry box, covering its walls, both inside and out, with delicate, naive scenes. This allows the viewer's imagination to discover the beauty of bucolic landscapes, the tenderness of childhood memories, and an allusion to unity with nature, where the purity of the flavors of Inner's cuisine originates. But that's not all: the third room, a Danish bakery, resembles a brightly lit monastic refectory with old wooden beams on the ceiling and a large communal table. The new design elements blend seamlessly into the interior, making it modern, and every detail in its deliberate simplicity stands out more clearly.

By filling the space of Inner with symbolism and meaning, Alexey Alexeev prepares guests for the main experience: new flavors in classic forms, and even in familiar combinations. The chef's inner world doesn't fit within the narrow confines of national cuisines. This allows for a tomato ceviche to surprise with notes of kimchi, bacon wontons to find their way into chicken broth, and creamed milk with vanilla to become a sauce for a cauliflower gratin. The important thing is what is hidden, the author repeats, urging you to listen to the harmonies of the ingredients, where even the smallest detail can change everything. Add anchovies to a green tomato salsa to prevent it from being overshadowed by the burrata. Prepare a silky-smooth carrot cream with kimchi to serve with beef ribs in a kalbi sauce, demonstrating perfect harmony not in the origin of the recipes, but in such a delicate balance where two parts of the dish play equal roles. Or combine gnocchi with scallops and porcini mushrooms, making you rediscover them in every spoonful. And you can close your eyes, accepting the rules of the game, because everything important has already been said – what remains is feeling.