I’m a terrible person to bring to a fancy dinner event. Even when on my best behaviour, the table around me always ends up a mess. There are breadcrumbs, spilled sauces, prawn shells, bones and gristle all over the place.
The only thing clean around me is the plate. Part of honouring the chef and enjoying food (if it’s good) is to polish off everything served to me. A lot of people claim to be gourmands, but if one really likes to eat, it strikes me that the kind of formal, genteel nibbling that typifies Western dining etiquette seems antithetical to real Epicureanism.
Mind you, aggressively devouring a bowl of Bolognese at a white-shirt business lunch with clients is probably not smart. But life’s too short to not fully dive into your food. Eating should be a tactile, sensual and unrestrained experience.
Dining daintily with knife and fork, in silence and little bites, just won’t do if one is used to the no-holds-barred bliss with which Asians attack their food. How else can one fully extract all the flavours from the dishes?
Meat on the bone is known to be tastier. But it’s considered gauche if you pick up the T-bone to gnaw on the flesh. The same goes for lamb chops and chicken drumsticks. It’s just easier to enjoy them Henry the Eighth-style in your hand.
