I just got back from a trip to Chicago, where my spouse and I were celebrating our 5-year anniversary of meeting and our 2-year anniversary of getting married. It was all very cute, very fancy, and a great way for both of us to recharge a bit, after what has been a pretty draining year professionally and personally for so many people.
One of the things Matt really wanted to do while we were there was have dinner at Alinea, which may very well be in a once-in-a-lifetime experience for us. What a place. Alinea has been on the World’s 50 Best Restaurants list for several years running, and has a whopping three Michelin stars, the highest honor given by that organization. But this essay isn’t an ad for Alinea. It’s a pervy treatise on why fine dining restaurants can, should, and often do take cues from kinksters when constructing the experiences they offer.