Going out to dinner with some friends a week ago, it struck me how everyone approaches their cuisine in a unique fashion.
I’m not necessarily referring to the way they handle a knife and fork – I’m talking about flavour/texture dislikes, sauces on the side, and whether one item of food can touch another on a plate. If you’re not sure of what the heck I’m going on about, reacquainting yourself with ‘When Harry Met Sally’ would be a good place to start.
Whence come these particular dining idiosyncrasies? I don’t think it’s something we learn from our parents, because I only have to look at myself and my siblings to see that even in our small, blood-related group, we have different plans of attack. I have friends that believe steak touching potatoes is an absolute no-no; raw oysters are to be regarded with great suspicion; and being asked for a taste of any of their food is tantamount to a complete stranger asking for a short-term loan.
On the flip side, there are folks who just can’t wait to spread the wealth, offering up a portion of their dishes before they’ve even tried them themselves. Is this a sign of overwhelming generosity or is Carol Rouse (some random name, honest) assigning some oblivious soul the role of praegustator? (Read up about Rome, Caesar and avoiding assassination by poisoning.)
Depending on where you fall on the share-o-meter, restaurants that serve up meals family-style could either fill you with delight, or send you into a hoarding spiral. If that person two seats down takes too many meatballs from the bowl, will there be any left for me? It can strike fear into the hearts of anyone who builds a wall around their plate of food with their arms and hands. Nothing to see here.
That being said, when it comes to places like Carmine’s in New York (recommended by a dear friend), make sure you take reinforcements. Best friend Lynne and I went to see a Broadway show, then headed to Carmine’s afterwards (a rite of passage). When they say ‘family-style’, they mean it. An emptied sea-ful of baked clams was followed by tureens of spaghetti and a dessert aptly named ‘Titanic’. I’m not saying the helpings were huge, but they made Cheesecake Factory look like a detox spa.
Going out to a restaurant for a meal is a lovely experience, if you know your own palate. Beyond allergies, dairy and gluten issues, there are just some foods we like and don’t like. It probably comes down to a mix of what our taste buds decide and where we were raised. For example, when I used to read the ‘Famous Five’ books by Enid Blyton, never in a million years did I imagine the tongue sandwiches (with lashings of ginger beer) that the intrepid group ingested were actual tongue. I think in my mind I was pronouncing them “TONG-ewe” and fancied them to be some delicious filling with which I was unfamiliar. When finally introduced to this cut of meat as a teenager, I recoiled in horror. But then I wasn’t raised on it and, apparently, I wasn’t too adventurous. On the other hand, give me stuffed land crab any day of the week – which would probably send others who haven’t grown up in the Caribbean running for the hills.
It’s understandable that raw oysters might not be on everyone’s bucket list (I personally love them), but there are other far less… challenging comestibles that some people just can’t wrap their TONG-ewes around. A soft-boiled egg is one example. That yolk had better be like concrete, or a certain friend of mine won’t eat it. Another will happily chow down on a hollowed-out tomato, but is not a fan of any of the seeded part inside. I would rather live my life without cottage cheese, but I think that’s down to a combination of the flavour, the texture, and a lifetime of failed diets. Beets and I also had a permanent falling out many years ago.
Now that I think about it, I may have alighted upon the perfect solution for a table of diners who have differing opinions on the meal-sharing situation. If you don’t like anyone taking any of your food, but you’d like a bite of theirs, order a dish that includes a few items you’re not actually keen on. That way, you’ll be happy to surrender them to your friend without feeling burgled, and you can reciprocate by forking their plate with abandon.
I’m a mad genius.
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