I should mention food photography (I mean, besides the obvious fact of my incompetence). I spent the first three and a half minutes at Alinea feeling uneasy about my little Canon PowerShot, and tried to make Tess bear half the blame by forcing her to take an initial photo or two.
First, there's the whole easy-peasy, Japanese-y trigger-happy tourist aspect of it (which is why I'm pushing Tess--white (okay, Jewish!)--to take some of the photos). That's a stereotype worth lookin' at, I think--although maybe it's mostly fundamental attribution error that drives this generalization.
I'm trying to put myself in the shoes of chefs and restaurant owners and food snobs who look askance at the hoi polloi of food photographers and bloggers. I can see how a massive DSLR flaring away might disturb other diners, but why the general distaste, the mincing horror? Evinced by none other than such champions of the unwashed, street-food consuming hordes as A. Bourdain?
I dunno, dawgs. Suffice it to say, I got over my reticence, and got snap-happy, 'cause this shit-bird ain't got but one chance to eat at this motherfuckin' place, so I ain't about to have no proof.
Course 5
We're told, "Think of this as a soup gone wild" (crabs and herpes?). Cubes of sturgeon. Cider vinegar-compressed apple. Dots of potato puree, leek puree, and chive puree. Celery heart leaves and micro celery, radish circles, thin ribbons of celery, buttery bread crumbs, a long strip of red delicious apple "gel sheet," topped off with a crispy ribbon of potato. 
Sigh. Someone help me take better pictures.
Course 6
A little amuse-bouche-y type fried thang of shad roe with dehydrated bacon impaled onto a stalk of bay laurel. Not having had shad roe before, it's nothing like I expect, no snap or pop--it's actually more like gently cooked foie gras, creamy and burst-y in the mouth.
Course 7
Here's where the meal starts to get beyond me. Wine in antique stemware, ornate fork and butter knife, a gorgeous bordered plate, and a deconstruction of filet de boeuf Godard in the tradition of Escoffier. There's a centerpiece of Wagyu beef "poached sous vide," "topped with a vegetable matignon," and "wrapped in caul fat and seared to order." Then, around the plate starting at 12 o'clock: "quenelle of beef mousse with trimmings from the wagyu...with mushroom duxelle," tiny slices of braised (for 8 hours) cockscomb, a rilette quenelle of ox tongue, a poached, then breaded and fried sweetbread, "chopped truffles with truffle puree as opposed to the traditional tournee," and a fluted button mushroom.
Butter knife? To cut the beef? Need I say more?
Course 8
Honey foam, canard a l'orange with foie gras so creamy it's like a gusher in your mouth, morels, and a gelee of orange. A spinach type leafy green. English peas.
Course 9
A piece of crisp smoky bacon drizzled with salty butterscotch, a tiny sprig of thyme embedded in the butterscotch. Hung on a...wire...rocking...chair.
Course 10
We're presented with pillows filled with Earl Gray scented air. We're told to let the pillow air inform our senses as we eat the "cup of tea" dessert: the yolk-like globules of lemon curd and Earl Gray flavored sable-cookie crumble with fennel jam, pine nut brittle, "rose pate de fruit with pectin" "shattered" with liquid nitrogen, white chocolate noodles caramelized sous vide.
I ain't a dessert-y kinda gal, give me a slice of pizza over chocolate cake, any day, but fuck. me, this was amazing.
Course 11
One hockey puck of "warm chocolate custard...set with carrageenan." Frozen chocolate mousse made with liquid nitrogen. Chocolate crumb. Another frozen mousse made from liquid nitrogen, but this time using coconut and looking for all intents and purposes like a de-yolked hard-boiled egg--a DEERICIOUS, coconut sorbet tastin' hard-boiled egg. Chunks of chewy coconut (partially dehydrated spray-dried coconut milk mixed with egg whites and powdered sugar). Dollops of coconut pudding and menthol sauce (Tess ate around the menthol; I disguised it in the chocolate pudding).
Course 12
Hibiscus gelee, creme fraiche, and pink, bubble-yum flavored tapioca. In a glass tube. We're told that it's a "one mouthful" course, but what this really means is a choking hazard--the delight of the thing, the absurdity of taking a "pull," the slurping sound as the mixture shoots into your mouth, the fruity bubble-yum flavor is just a recipe for laughs and for me, red-faced, hand-over-mouth attempts to not snort tapioca up my nose.
I'm not even a fan of bubble gum flavor--I know someone who lervs bubble gum ice cream, which is just all sorts of disgusting to me. But the way this was done, just the pinnacle of bubble gum combined with the "Techno-Emotional" nostalgia of it, the giddy humor. And I think this is what makes Alinea so amazing. Beyond the generally desired criterion of deliciousness, it's food as play, as memory, as magic, as wonder.
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