The dreams of the domestically minded tend to be fairly simple: An Ikea within driving distance, a really good wine bar--no, not like the kind we had two years ago. A really, really good wine bar. Like, well, like brand new, dream-fulfilling Cesaré's, a place where the wine selection goes into hundreds and hundreds of bottlings, covering wine-head rarities, collector jaw-droppers, and budget gems from around the world. Where the food is carefully rendered slow food, and where you can choose between the market's best olives and salamis or subtle pastas or chickens. Where the decor and building itself are a joy too (the place is basically the expression of the love of an architect for the enduring qualities of Arts and Crafts wood details expressed in modern idiom). Cesaré's, the wine bar of domestic dreams. So we got the wine bar. And the Ikea's on the way. What now? Everybody, all together: Dream the new domestic dream; free, expert, house-cleaning super-robots. Hey, it worked with Cesaré's...