I was wandering the souk at Marrakech, searching for an exquisite burlap that I'd heard tell of in rumor and legend, when it hit me. Amid the aromas of cumin, incense, and roasting goat meat, one heavenly scent caressed my nostrils like the very breath of God Himself. I followed this immaculate smell to a narrow stall, where a wizened old Moroccan in a white djellaba sat surrounded by high piles of fresh bread.

"Ismahli, friend," I asked, "may I see the stone oven that produced these delectable loaves?"

He laughed, showing me a mouthful of gnarled teeth. "No, sahib. I have only the Beyond Smart Bread Maker. This wondrous machine produces loaves up to 2.5 pounds, and all I need do is pour in the ingredients and punch a few buttons. I can use a programmable timer to bake while I sleep, and the bright, backlit LCD is a joy to behold. Would you like to buy some? Very good bread, very good price."

I returned his smile. "Yes, I'll take three loaves." Suddenly the mysterious East seemed a lot less mysterious.