A few short years ago, food was not as tasty as it is today. Mealtime was a chore, an exercise in fueling the body that involved little more than shovelling calories down the gullet and waiting for them to settle. It was a vulgar and boring and tiresome task, and nobody liked it very much.

Then, one day, a stranger on horseback appeared at the horizon, galloping toward the town where all the people lived.

"I have come," he bellowed from across the fields, "to make your mealtimes marvelous!"

True to his word, the stranger brought with him something wonderful and mysterious. Something with a subtle, supple texture, something whose delicate aromas whispered of untold adventures in far-off lands. Something that surprised the palate and encouraged lascivious winking.

Some of the citizens even took to licking their lips in public, so highly did they praise the stranger's gift.

"Please, sir," one of the townsfolk asked the stranger, "what is it called?"

There was a long silence before the stranger bent to whisper into the citizen's ear.

"This," he said, "is ***** *****."

There was another long pause. Then the citizen spoke again.

"Do you suppose I could have the recipe?"

"Well... Yeah, sure. Okay. I'd be happy to write it out for you. Anybody got a pen?"

But nobody had a pen, and nobody had a pencil, and nobody had a Portable Digital Assistant.