Masa-turbation

I finished the chapter on Masa in Michael Ruhlman's The Reach of a Chef yesterday*, and now I can't stop dreaming and creaming over the day I'll have $420 ($350 + instant 20% gratuity) to fork over to sit at the hinoki wood bar with the Taisho.

But then I saw what may be the most disgusting review I've ever read in my life. I pray to God it's a joke, but you just never know in this town. I hope you didn't just eat a big lunch:

From Menupages:
Posted by Blair** on 05/20/2006
A great halfway point

My fiancé, myself, and a couple of our friends were doing this thing that we do every once in a while where we try to make it from Friday to Wednesday drunk. The rules are that none of us can cook or stay in our own apartments during the “binge,” as we call it, so we spend a lot of time in restaurants and hotels. Luckily, my buddy James had planned ahead for once and booked Masa for that Saturday without telling any of us. A brillant move. By then, we were about twenty-four hours in and the food really hit the spot. Needles to say, I don’t remember much of the evening, but I think the food was excellent, although I felt like we were there for days and plates just kept coming and coming. The sake was a bigger draw than the food– and let me say – the one thing I do remember is some drink like Cakonkou or Kakonnku or something. The waitresses came by and I just kept saying Cakonku and it kept flowing. We were loud, but no one seemed to mind; it was a pretty festive atmosphere, not this “temple” everyone was telling me about. Delicious stuff. It all came to $3500 or something, and my dad was pissed when he saw the AMEX that month, but all that aside it was worth every penny.

*Disclaimer: Yes, the people who employ me publish it. But I bought his first "chef" book when it came out and I wasn't working here.
**Blair! You can't make that shit up. Or can you?