For all the Salt in the World

There I sit, calm as you please, about to lay into a nicely done and ample portion of steak in an expensive and quite good restaurant in Wellington Island, when the young woman seated next to me inquires after the salt. I searched for the saltshaker among the plate and crystal, flowers and candles, but none is to be found. A small oversight, doubtless. I ask our waiter, a tall and rather well set fellow, for salt for our table, and, in a somewhat dubious foreign accent, he replies, “I am sorry sir, but the chef do not permit salt…