Because of a belief that food should go into one鈥檚 mouth with a minimum of noise and backsplash, I tried to instil in my children some basic table manners.
鈥淲hat if you had the opportunity to dine with the Queen?鈥� I told them. 鈥淚 want to be sure you know how to handle a knife and fork properly. I want to be confident that you won鈥檛 slurp your soup and chew with your mouths open.鈥�
They promised that if they should ever dine with the Queen, they鈥檇 be on their best behaviour. Until then, they told me, they would prefer to take a little more relaxed approach at the feed trough.
鈥淏esides,鈥� said one, 鈥渨hen are we ever likely to dine with the Queen?鈥�
鈥淚f the Queen comes for supper, will we have spaghetti?鈥� asked another.
I think he was worried the presence of royalty would cramp his pasta technique, which involved sucking up as many tendrils as possible without using a fork.
It was a metaphor, I tried to explain, but when kids choose to take things literally, metaphors are wasted.
My approach was further eroded when a bright young scholar pointed out that in some cultures, belching after eating is considered a sign of appreciation and a compliment to the host.
And wait, said another, in some countries, slurping your soup is regarded as proper 鈥� it adds flavour to the food. And what about the cultures that don鈥檛 use utensils, but eat with their fingers?
What if, my progeny reasoned as a group, we were asked to dine with an Arabian sheik or a Chinese prime minister?
They set about practising enthusiastically for the possibility of being the guest of an eastern potentate.
I gave up with reasonable grace. The manners were a little short of perfection, but I had tried, and I went on faith, which has not proved to be groundless, that as the years went by they would be able to dine in public without attracting an audience.
I won a few small victories, such as restricting major sculpting projects with mashed potatoes. We worked out a compromise 鈥� no volcanoes or mashed-potato dams on dinner plates, except on holidays. It gave them another reason to be excited about Christmas.
Besides, life has a way of balancing things. I chuckle now as I watch the grandchildren dive into dinner while their beleaguered parents try to keep the food coverage down to an acre or two.
It鈥檚 cute when small children eat noisily and messily, but adults should be a little more restrained at the table. I鈥檓 appalled at some of the things I see, and more than appalled by what I hear sometimes.
Of course, fingers are used when eating fish and chips on Fisherman鈥檚 Wharf, and there鈥檚 nothing wrong with slurping a fine B.C. oyster on the half-shell, but usually, we shouldn鈥檛 have to see what people are chewing, or thumbs pushing food onto forks.
I have probably just been crossed off the several lists for dinner parties because people think I鈥檒l be analyzing their table manners.
Not so 鈥� I鈥檒l be too busy trying to avoid such incidents as decorating my shirt with spilled shrimp-cocktail sauce or stabbing bystanders with a utensil.
If there鈥檚 more than a knife, fork and spoon arrayed around my plate, I鈥檒l be watching others closely to make sure I don鈥檛 pick up the wrong tool.
I鈥檓 not saying we need to be stiffly formal when we eat, but I think it detracts greatly from the pleasure of others鈥� dining when someone has his head down among the foodstuffs, scooping the vittles directly off the plate onto the lower lip.
It doesn鈥檛 do much for the appetite (or concentration) when someone鈥檚 coffee slurp can be heard from four tables away.
And as for the Queen?
Well, after observing the problems she has had with her children and grandchildren, I think if she and her brood came to eat at our house, it would be incumbent on her to caution her progeny about acceptable speech and behaviour.
There鈥檚 a lot more to minding your manners than picking up the proper fork.
