Many years ago when I was roughly the height of a fire hydrant, I went to a popular Italian-ish diner. They had free bread, cordial the colour of traffic cones and a policy of offering parmesan dustings at the table. The parmesan was in a jar and the texture of damp sawdust, but to me, a child barely smarter than an impressive dog, it was the best. The waiter would stand there continually sprinkli...