I had not been to a Williams Sonoma in years, and its sense of warmth and competence in this particular small store setting proved cheering. I did face an essential challenge in my visit. I was in search of something called a "lemon lime zester". The problem with this is that, having failed to avail myself of google and wikipedia, I had no idea just what item qualified to be called as a "zester". I had in mind something vaguely like a bottle of vinegar, filled with a lemon/lime concoction, which, when squirted, added zest to any holiday dish. I had an alternative vision, half-formed, that it would look something like a gravy cow, or an Aladdin's lantern, as zesters, it seems to me, should have a bit of pizzazz.
I spent a fair bit of time browsing for said lemon lime zester, although this arduous search was subject to interruption, as in the case of the appreciation and on-board-taking of the prepackaged no-fat sugar cookie mix, and the as-yet-unspelled spell with the alphabet cookie cutters.
Yet nothing leaped out at me as a zester. I began to wonder if the zester held fluids of some sort, and the "lemon/lime" was a color descriptor. Finally, though, I asked one of the charming women providing personal assistance for a hand. I did not notice that she was all a-cider when I asked, but she did not hesitate to lead to me zesterville.
She led me to things that ninja warriors would be proud to own, which looked like things with which one would tan hides or hide tans. Her chipper competence hit a mild stumbling block, when it turned out the the lemon/lime zester, a sale item, was exhausted. She summoned for me, however, a kind of Zester Duchess, who was able to hold forth on alternative zesters. This brainy cove let me know that the citrus zester could be supplemented by an array of other zesters to achieve a zesty result. Having shared with me the wisdom of the universe without requiring any tribute of eye or coin, she departed. My guardian angel further helped me figure out that I could dispense with the zester for protozoa and the zester for elephants, and I was soon be-zested.
I checked out, not neglecting the asparagus steamer on my way out, as well as the cookie mix(es). Then I headed to Sushi Inaka for an elegantly raw dinner. When I arrived, one waitperson staffed the entire small restaurant. "How are you doing?", I asked, being a Texan. "Busy!", she said, then with aplomb seated me near the television. Between watching with amazement that this Social Security receipient named Brett Favre can still delight and amaze at the game called football, and reading a pennysaver about nothing in particular on sale, I barely noticed that my rolls and my nigri were spaced like movements in a rather disjointed modernist symphony. This was my meal, with which I was well-pleased.
I headed home, and did not wrap what I should have wrapped.