Even the entrance is a production. Through the flower arrangement-cloaked lobby, up a curved staircase dressed with red velvet carpeting and a bronze banister, down a pebble-embossed walled hallway, and in through the dense pine door, the astute, young doorman leads you into the pecorino-scented dining room of Il Mulino, Aspen.

You are greeted immediately by a legion of sharp, incisive waiters dressed in all white: one serving a plate of freshly sliced charcuterie, another chiseling each diner a fist size chunk of Parmigiano-Reggiano from half of an entire 2-foot diameter wheel, another slips in a heavenly-scented plate of crispy, paper-thin sliced zucchini with garlic oil and red pepper flakes, and finally another humorlessly asks if, for your water choice, you would like the thrice filtered house water for $1 a glass.

By now another robot-like waiter has set down not one, but two baskets full of bread. One filled with slices of toasted, garlic baguette, and the other with crispy focaccia. Your table now resembles a traffic jam of Italian food, and what more? The bruschetta with steamed mussels is on the way.

Living up to its name, Il Mulino proves to most definitely run like a mill. Aspen, Colorado is high traffic tourist destination, where its deep-pocketed visitors seek a luxurious vacation. The plethora of free antipasti is certainly a luxury for any diner, but the bombardment of a professional yet ever-present wait staff isn’t exactly so. Your wine order is surveyed and presented almost as fast as another waiter spits out the night’s seemingly bottomless list of specials, overloading your brain and leaving you breathless.  Then, finally, after your stomach is sufficiently plumped and you’re already starting to feel that craving for sweets after a long, hearty meal, the diner is only just now presented with a menu.

If you can fathom ordering an appetizer, I suggest a light seafood dish like the octopus salad. This dish will certainly feed two and is a pleasant assortment of sliced octopus, squid, and baby scallops cooked slightly by the acidity of a lemon vinaigrette.

For an entrée, the lobster risotto is superb. The fluffy and moist hunks of lobster float between a heaping of perfectly moistened and starchy Arborio rice and spears of luscious, spring asparagus. The wild mushroom homemade ravioli and pappardelle bolognese with house made sausage, however, both pose a disgrace to authentic Italian pastas. The ravioli’s pasta is far too dense and chewy, when rather it should resemble a transparent, silkly pillow that literally melts in the mouth. The pappardelle pasta is far too eggy and too chewy as well; these wide, flat noodles should be thin, glossy, and velvety.

Even if you cannot bear the sight of yet another course, the army of crisp white-aproned waiters can’t wait to fill you up on complimentary pear grappa. From within an ice-lined wooden bucket, the waiter ladles grappa from a bowl, and with a crafty smile, hands you the check.

A production indeed, Il Mulino runs as efficiently and vigorously as a mill for which it’s named. Come expecting to stretch your stomach lining to gross lengths, to be unimpressed by sloppy interpretations of Italian staples, and to be waited on by a chronically present and overwhelming staff.

Photo taken from: http://www.ilmulino.com/aspen.html