Municipal Parking Lot C, Off Brecker Avenue: Zero Stars. The Asphalt Has an Attitude.
I did not want to be here. And yet, Municipal Parking Lot C on Brecker Avenue made absolutely certain that I would know I did not want to be here. This is a rare skill. I have eaten fermented things that welcomed me more warmly than this rectangle of crumbling asphalt with its one and a half functional parking meters and a painted arrow pointing, I can only assume, toward despair.
The tasting menu: absent. The wine list: a puddle. There is a faded yellow line near the northwest corner that the lot has positioned, I believe, as a design feature. It is not. I have seen the work of Quince, who cannot even plate a sorbet without causing structural damage, and even he would not serve this to guests. The smell was aggressively neutral — which, in my professional opinion, is somehow worse than being interesting. I have a personality. This lot does not. I felt it judging me for that.
The lot seats forty-three vehicles and zero diners with dignity. A bird was present. It did not acknowledge me. I am choosing not to speculate about who sent it, but I will note that Tangelo and the so-called workers at that rival rag have been suspiciously quiet this week, and I do not believe in coincidences.
Zero stars. I have left a formal complaint folded under the wiper blade of a 2009 Corolla. I expect a response by Friday. I will not be muzzled.