Tales of the table

A couple of days back, I played nookie from work, going to see the Auto Expo yet again (Saturday’s trip being just a tantalizing trailor). In the evening, roomie and I decided to make an impromptu visit to a nearby mall, followed by a pizza meal at an upmarket pizza outlet.

Seated on our left was this much-in-love couple, who seemed to have eyes only for each other. Not once did they take their eyes off each other – such was their level of adoration. For once, caustic-tongued roomie and I were content without coming out with our trademark comments, though it did look that there was a serious lack of matter under all that peroxide in the girl.

Our silence was short-lived though. As soon as the bartender arrived at their table, complete with wine, spaghetti, pizza, and risotto, the couple proceeded to enjoy their meal. But not without first getting our undivided attention.

Case in question – jingle of cutlery. Pretty loud at that.

Aghast, we watched the couple dig into their food. And dig they did, indeed. The girl looked almost warrior-like, never leaving her fork or knife from her hand. We winced every time she, while talking to her beau, poked the item of cutlery almost into his face, when her mood hit her for some animation. He was no less; lifting slices of pizza more than a foot above the table, before plonking them onto her plate. They did so look the perfectly-made-for-each-other-couple. Thank you very much. Take a bow. Air-kissing.

Seeing that couple, I couldn’t help but remember loads of people who I have chanced to see, at glitzy restaurants, watering holes, hotels – who looked every inch posh, except when it came to picking up their forks, spoons, and knives.

Now I am no stiff upper-lipped English Queen, but yes, even I (known for not living by the rules), wouldn’t put my elbows on the table. Probably that could have something to do with my childhood, which included a primary school teacher, who taught me the following rhyme:

“Mable, Mable, if you are able,
Kindly remove your elbows from the table.”

But that is another story. This post is dedicated to people, and their different table manners. And believe me, there are quite a few.

From the ones who believe that the sole purpose of cutlery is to make jangling sounds, to the ones who think that showing one’s food in one’s mouth spells C-O-O-L, with a Capital “C.”

Then there are those, who take major inspiration from war movies. They stab food, cut around it, and then shove it into their gaping mouths. Sitting around them is too appalling for words.

You have the ones who noisily chew their food, and to make matters wore, insist on giving a running commentary on the despicable political situation f the country, all the while ensuring that you cannot help but see the bolus swirling in their mouth.
You have the ones who smudge those delicate pewter goblets with their fingers, and then you have the ones who can only best be described as cartoons, what with all that flailing with their forks. And maybe holding the fork in the right and the knife in the left, completely against customary rules.

And of course, who can forget those who look as if they have:
a) just decided to call off their week-long hunger strike
b) returned from a famished nation

And wolf down the food, chomping, chewing, and shoveling it all inside.

Leaving you to wonder secretly if they might just also decide to lick their plates clean – they look so ravenous.

That they burp and pat their tummies after their hearty meal, leaving you gagging, is only incidental.