GRABBING A BITE

When I was growing up, taking food from another’s plate was okay if you were a toddler. Once you were three, you were expected to know it wasn’t cool to swipe a meatball from your sister’s plate, even if you’d finished yours and hers looked tasty.But grownups with otherwise terrific table manners eat from my plate all the time! It’s not unusual to glance down and see a strange fork carrying off what I’d foolishly believed was my dinner.

We’re at an upscale restaurant. My meal arrives. As I look forward to savoring every morsel, forks fly in from all over the table. Some people ask before they strike. “That looks scrumptious! Can I have a taste?“ Say no and you’re a killjoy. But say yes and you’ve given the entire table the go-ahead to sample your sirloin. 

I just want to enjoy my own dinner. All of it. I don’t like to share my food. Is that so terrible?

You bet it is! Breaking bread together isn’t about guarding the food on your plate from incoming forks. It’s about caring and sharing, savoring not only your own ravioli but your friend’s scampi. Food is love. When I deny you a taste of my delicious pasta, I’m saying I don’t love you.

But that’s not true! I don’t want to withhold my affection -- just my entrée.

Look at it this way -- If I’m on the sofa snuggling with my guy, I don’t expect a friend to say, “That looks like fun! Can I have a kiss?” If I’m lost in a good book, you can't carry it off to enjoy a chapter. So -- plunge your fork into my pasta and you plunge me into despair.

There should be twelve step programs for folks like me. “Hi! I’m Roz! I don’t like to share my food!” We’ll all get together and work on not wincing when friends eat from our plates. We’ll learn to say, “Help yourself!” instead of “Hell no!” when asked for a tiny taste. Finally, we’ll test our new friendlier dining skills by going out for Chinese food, where we’ll indulge in a perfect orgy of communal ordering.

If this sounds as awful to you as it does to me, go ahead and resort to desperate measures. When your meal arrives, blast it with a big honking sneeze. Say: “If only I could shake this awful cold!” Describe your plague-like symptoms in ghastly detail. “But enough about me,“ you can conclude. “Anyone want to try my ravioli?“

The silence that results will be as delightful as your dinner, every morsel of which you can now savor in peace. Enjoy!