A Night Out at the Anosmia[*] Restaurant I accepted the offer from the pale estuary of fingers pinched on two thin slices of jicama tapped lightly with lime and a weathered rim of sweet chili powder. “Gracias,” I said in my best Ricardo Montalbán lip-sink. Friday night at our favorite Mexican franchise. “Can you taste that at all?” she asked. I sucked and replied that even where math was the official language, I was a zero. “Can you even smell it?” I …