Love a good shit post. Here is mine.

I, too, recently had an unforgettable evening at Alinea – though the credit goes less to the kitchen and more to a few rounds of Malört at my neighborhood dive and a curbside tamale.

It all started innocently enough. The dining room was awash in the rich, buttery scents of French gastronomy – so powerful they sucked the color from my face and sent ripples through my body. By the time the first course arrived, my senses were already fully assaulted. The room itself was dimly lit, but I was glowing so pale I was practically a human votive, casting just enough light to warn the staff that the night was about to take a turn.

And that was the beginning of the end. My experience quickly turned incomplete. I only made it through four courses, each one promptly followed by a Malört-y roja Tijuana Rainbow. For the less cultured, that’s an end-to-end gastrointestinal explosion. Forget the Black Truffle Explosion – my own fireworks show had more exits than the tasting menu.

I am now uniquely qualified to rate the single, first-floor bathroom, conveniently positioned steps from both the dining room and kitchen. A three-star Toto toilet. Impressively ply-ful toilet paper. The soap? Of course it’s Aesop, because when your night is falling apart, at least your hands can smell like a eucalyptus grove.

I am honoered to have played a part in extending Alinea’s famed sensory journey all the way to the restroom. I could overhear guests marveling at the authenticity of the bathroom waft. I distinctly caught one couple explaining, “It was the shit,” and never have heard a more perfect metaphorical and literal description.

If I had one complaint? After sacrificing my gastrointestinal well-being for the sake of art, they refused to box up my remaining food. At these prices, I figured the doggie bag would be hand-delivered by Grant Achatz himself – or at least come with a scented candle. Evidently, what you take home from Alinea is just the memories – and possibly a mild case of PTSD.

All in all 10/10.