When I first set out to report his story, I thought it would be about my first solo multicourse dining experience. But as my evening at Kai progressed, something else struck me. I realized I hadn't enjoyed the service as much as, or even more than, what's on my plate — ever.

I relished it. And now, I crave more of it. But let me start at the beginning.

I first visited Kai restaurant at Sheraton Grand at Wild Horse Pass about eight or nine years ago on a double date. What I remember most about that evening, so many years ago, was my friend’s husband Joel forgetting his glasses. He mentioned it to us in his soft-spoken voice as we browsed the menu. We were shocked when a server appeared with a pair of reading glasses, and concluded that our tables must have hidden microphones.

Recently, I went on my own. Being solo allowed me to people-watch and listen. And it made it all the more clear what makes Kai so special.

A warm welcome sets the tone for a night at Kai

Just before entering the restaurant, I was greeted at the host’s stand by Dylan Thomas. “I’ll take your valet ticket,” he said and walked me to my table.

The dining room at Kai is not enormous and when I arrived, only two other couples had been seated, and in one party, the wife was celebrating her 80 ^th birthday.

Once I sat down, my server Feliciano Vazquez, a service captain, arrived to greet me in Pima. At my request to treat me like a first-timer, he told me a brief history of the Pima People and how the restaurant's ingredients honor them. I know he's been telling this story multiple times each night for years, but he remained engaged and engaging as he recounted it to me.

He then asked for any dietary restrictions and we discussed my drink preferences. I was craving wine, sparkling and sweet-leaning.

“I have a wine you may like,” he said.

He returned with Brachetto D’Acqui, a semi-sparkling red from Piedmont, which reminded me of another favorite, Moscato, except this one was a little brighter. Fruity, floral, at once sweet and acidic, one sip from the medium-bodied ambrosia conjured up images of dancing carefree in a meadow.

As I nursed my drink, tiny bubbles gently effervescing from the center of the glass, I heard another server, walking the new octogenarian through the menu in a baritone voice, patiently explaining sabayon.

“I can’t promise to remember, but wanted to know,” she said. “You can contact me anytime and ask me,” he responded. For the curious, sabayon is a custard made with egg yolks, sugar and wine.

When another guest exclaimed, "I don’t know what to order for dessert!" the same man wondered if she could answer a few questions. He inquired about ingredients, textures and flavors, then said, "I’ll take care of it." He inspired such trust that she didn’t even ask which he planned to bring her. His explanation helped another guest settle on a choice as well.

As more guests filed into the dining room, the same servers spoke to each one with the same enthusiasm as they did the first of us to arrive. It didn't feel cloying, but genuine and warm.

Hospitality extends from the dining room to the line

I love variety over volume and made it clear to Vazquez that I probably wouldn't finish my dishes, in order to be able to enjoy all of them. He only asked me once during the ensuing seven courses if I was done. We found our rhythm fast.

At the end of the meal, I told him to thank the chef on my behalf for an amazing meal. He rushed away and came back. "Would you mind waiting a little? The chef wants to talk to you," he said.

Chef Drew Anderson arrived a few minutes later. He shared his story — starting as a line cook before being promoted to sous chef under former chef de cuisine Ryan Swanson. Now he’s chef de cuisine. I thanked him and singled out some of the dishes I really liked — the squab (his favorite) and bison — and especially his mushroom soup. I might have mentioned I would bathe in it if I could. Creamy, rich and earthy, it was like a plush robe.

“I’m glad," Anderson said, laughing. "That means I get to keep my job another day.”

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Hospitality is about the details

Once I paid my bill and was ready to leave the dining room, my server walked me to the entrance and thanked me for spending my evening at Kai. Thomas asked about my experience, then said, “Your car is ready for you.”

This was a pleasant surprise and a touch I haven’t experienced at other fine-dining restaurants in town, or anywhere, really.

As I was paying the valet, Anderson ran out with a paper folded in half. “Here’s the recipe for the mushroom soup,” he said. I was blown away by his kindness.

Inside my car, a gift bag with a candle in a gift box, two bottles of water and a handwritten card from my server awaited me.

Driving home, I realized that another eight or nine years from now, I may not remember the details of every dish, but I will never forget the welcoming generosity and attention to detail I experienced during my evening at Kai (Kai was a 2025 semi-finalist for James Beard Awards in Outstanding Hospitality and after my experience, I'm convinced it should have at least made the finals).

I will never forget that a server was so in tune with me during a meal, that he made me feel comfortable dining alone with a combination of conversations and stories interspersed with enough space and time to enjoy my meal. Or how he walked me out. Or that I didn’t have to wait for my car. Or that chef Anderson generously shared his recipe for my favorite dish with me.

But I don't think I'll need to remember, because I can't imagine waiting so long to return. I'll be back next time I find myself craving hospitality as much as an elaborate meal.

How to experience hospitality at Kai

Reservations required.

Hours: 5:30-8:30 p.m., Wednesday to Saturday.

Price: $195 per person, $350 with wine pairing.

Details: 5594 W. Wild Horse Pass Blvd., Chandler. 602-385-5777, kairestaurant.com .

Reach the reporter at . Follow @baharcreative on Instagram.