When I did finally land a table at Noma, everyone was suddenly too busy. The kids had hockey games and oboe recitals. The in-laws were visiting. It was Yom Kippur. Money was tight. Their wives would kill them; their husbands would kill them. The hamsters had fallen ill. The weather forecast looked dicey. There was a tag sale down the street. Sorry, I so totally wish I could, but…
