serving habits

[kerouac2]

Watching American movies and series, when there is a family meal scene, I have noticed that it seems as though the plates are almost always brought fully loaded to the table, or else someone (Mom!) loads the plates in total disregard to the size or age of the people at the table.  Adults, teens and children all seem to receive the same quantity.  At the end of the meal, there is still 30 to 50% of the food still on the plates.  WTF?  I know that this is a movie convention because nothing is less photogenic than a completely empty plate, but I am completely offended by the wastage.

I think the breakfast scenes are even worse.  Family members rush into the kitchen and "Mom" (her again!) says something like "how do you want your eggs?"  Does she not already know what family members want to eat?  Apparently not, because most of the time, the person rushes out the door saying "I don't have time/I'm not hungry" etc.  (And why are the eggs ready already, just waiting to be put on the plate?)  While "Mom" has many faults, her family is just as bad.  I can't even count the number of times a family member fills a big glass of orange juice to the brim, takes one sip and rushes out the door, leaving 90% of the juice in the glass.  Then there are the people who take one bite of toast, put it down and proclaim "Gotta go!" Clearly money grows on trees.

But I'm wondering about the real world.  I have suffered the "full plate" delivery lots of times in the United States and had to leave a lot of it since nobody asked me how much I wanted or even if liked certain things.  (Yet I can eat lots of things I don't like if the quantity is reasonable.)

In France, I have never really seen this.  Serving dishes are brought to the table and people take what they want.  Sometimes the person who cooked the meal will do the serving but always under the supervision of the diner who says "just a little" or "no thanks" of "give me a big piece" depending on the item.  From what I've seen, it appears to be pretty much the same in Italy.

So i'm wondering how do meals go in your real world?

[kerouac2]

Unfinished drinks are another plague. I almost never see it in real life, but in the "bar scenes" they are always walking out after hardly touching their drinks.

[lugg]

Well now I mostly only cook for myself so just put on my plate what I want. If I am cooking for others it varies ... but always side dishes are placed on the table so that people can eat what they wish. If a main allows it I would also do that also eg a lasagne, joint of meat etc etc . Some things just have to be put straight onto the plate so for example I am thinking of maybe a steak or a piece of fish, whole fish etc ( although I could re-think that).

One thing that I absolutely love is seeing how my grandson Enzo, from about 9 months, has been taught by his mum and dad to indicate he has had enough food, using sign language, long before he was able to verbally articulate it to them.

[mich64]

Growing up, my dad would always serve the main dish from the head of the table each night whether it be slicing off meat, spoonfuls of stew or varied casseroles to each plate that was handed to him from around the table (which we children set for each meal). He devided the portions and you could ask for whatever remained (seconds), if you had finished everything on your plate. Side dishes such as potatoes or vegetables would be in large bowls and passed around to serve yourself.

Weekday breakfast before school was always cereal or porridge and toast brought to the set table by our mom. With a large pot of tea which we got a small cup of after my father was done. We all had to be down for breakfast on time.

Sunday mornings he would bring a bowl of boiled eggs or a plate of fried eggs that he cooked plus a bowl of bacon slices to the table and he would serve the eggs where everything else was passed around. My mother would bring a plate with a tower of toast that we would help her make.

This topic has brought back many happy memories Kerouac!

My husband and I usually eat all of our meals at the table and I always use serving dishes for sides and a platter for the main. The only time I serve from the stove is spaghetti and I always give him too much! I have never been comfortable eating from the sofa because we just never did it.

Almost every Sunday of our married life has been dinner at my in-laws. The same rules apply at their home as how I grew up with until they moved into the condo apartment, then it became buffet style. Everything is on platters and serving bowls in a line up around the counter tops. My father-in-law will always put a table cloth on their table and insist the ladies sit at the table and he usually opens a bottle of wine. The guys are told to dine from their plates on their laps from the sofa.

We also all seemed to have inherited the annoyance that our parents have of people not finishing their drinks. My father-in-law would be a grumpy grandfather if he found soda/pop cans left half full. The children quickly learned if they asked for a soda/pop they had better drink it all.

[questa]

My 2 boys and I had a team approach. Boy #1 would set out cereals, plates,juice etc while his brother set out the lunch making requirements. I would make sandwiches while standing on the other side of the breakfast bar, eating my cereal. I put the toast on and we all had a slice with vegemite.
We put our own things in the dishwasher and B# 2 tidied the kitchen. It sounds rushed but we had plenty of chat time and I didn't have to ask or nag to get things done. Boy #1 was collected on Saturdays to play cricket so he did the Mon-Wed roster and his brother did Thurs-Sat so he got a sleep in.
Sundays it was "every man for himself".

[kerouac2]

I have extremely vivid memories of my grandmother's Sunday or holiday meals, which always included members of the extended family or local notables (my grandfather being mayor of the village). After a very lengthy apéritif, which was not accompanied by unnecessary nibbles in those days, the opening dish for hors d'oeuvres would often be a huge platter with tuna or salmon (not out of a tin in those days!) in the middle, surrounded by sliced hard boiled eggs, all on a bed of lettuce and smothered by my grandmother's spectacular mayonnaise. In the summer there would also be a big platter of sliced tomatoes (in an extremely artistic arrangement) covered with chopped parsley, garlic and thinly sliced onion, topped by a vinaigrette. These items passed around the table, sometimes requiring second helpings, and there normally was not much left on the platters by the time everybody was sated. (The number of people at the table was generally about 10 or 12.) It was the next course that always surprised me a bit with my semi-foreign child culture -- the vegetable course. There would be a big bowl of peas from the garden, perhaps another bowl of roasted potatoes. There were variations depending on the season -- it could be green beans or flageolets, maybe Brussels sprouts or carrots... I liked all of these things, but I knew there was a leg of lamb waiting in the kitchen or a couple of roast chickens. Sometimes it was a hare or some pheasants if it was hunting season. In any case, I knew it was good, and that is what I wanted.

It is hard to pace yourself when you are a little kid, but I actually learned to do it, although I often skipped things like the giant cheese plate afterwards. In the nice seasons, dessert was often a variety of tarts -- apple, cherry, plum, peach or whatever. In the winter, dessert normally came from the patisserie. Back in those days, the fashion was for cream puffs, sometimes éclairs. The adults would then move on to coffee and digestives. My grandfather had a permit for making various extreme brandies -- mirabelle, quetsch, kirsch -- but people were never denied cognac or Chartreuse if that is what they preferred. I would always be allowed one suger cube imbibed with my mother's or grandmother's choice of alcohol. (Although it must be admitted that my grandmother rarely had a chance to sit down -- not only was there so much serving to do, but she did not have an unlimited supply of china, so a lot of time was spent washing and wiping dishes back in the kitchen for an upcoming course.)

It was always about 15:00 by the time we reached this point, meaning a least 3 hours at the table, so I had generally reached my limit and would go out to the garden -- but I would always return a bit later, because I didn't want to miss anything. By then a lot of the adults had shifted to different chairs according to the evolution of the conversations, but there was always a place left for me. At around 16:00 it was time for some of the people to leave, generally reluctantly, and sometimes being given a bit of extra tart. I say "reluctantly" because I don't think that most of them often had a chance to have such fabulous meals, especially unlimited wines and other alcohols. Thank god they were almost always within walking distance of their homes.

By 18:00 it would be time to start having dinner although nobody was hungry. There was always more than enough in the way of leftovers -- sliced meat, vegetables, cheese... And the next day it would be back to the normal meal routine.

I regret that I will almost certainly never have a meal like that again.

[patricklondon]

I have a memory of being taken to a family meal like that, on my very first trip to France to visit my school penpal's family. It must have taken a good 3-4 hours.

They also took me to a wedding that included auctioning the bride's garter to raise money for the honeymoon!

We never did anything like that in my family, except for one Christmas. But my mother did do a full Sunday roast when Jean-Laurent came on the return visit.




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[kerouac2]

The main things that those French meals taught me was to never be in a hurry at the table. During the years in America, my parents' friends always marvelled at how my brother and I could sit at a meal table for long periods without complaining while their own children went ballistic.

In my adult years, I confess that I have usually eaten at top speed and until recently I was always the first person to empty my plate. In the last 5 years or so (retirement?) I have finally slowed down.

[lugg]

The connection between food / feeding / eating and family and friends is something to be celebrated. Really enjoyed reading about the memories here. I hope that I can create some of those memories for Enzo in the years to come .

[mickthecactus]

Love the sound of those meals!

[mich64]

Wonderful memories Kerouac! Our Sunday meal to this day has many of the same aspects. As soon as we arrive, we are offered a drink (and througout the 4 hours we are usually there) once seated, my mother-in-law spends the afternoon bringing dishes to the coffee table, cheese and meat platters, devilled eggs, chips and dips, choclates and cookies. Everyone complains for her to stop with us all saying we will never be able to eat dinner. After diiner there is always an array of dessert choices. Come visit me and we will take you to Sunday dinner, you will feel right at home.

When we visit the family near Metz, I have had such similiar experiences. Especially the extreme brandies, Mr. M.'s cousin was the man in charge of authoizing those permits for his region and has a room filled with bottles of spirits and wine.

I am so anxious be able to visit with them again!

[tod2]

Mar 11, 2021 17:15:19 GMT kerouac2 said:

I regret that I will almost certainly never have a meal like that again.

I would love to try. Hire a Gite/ country lodge in the countryside. We all arrive and are delegated a course to present at dinner, the wine flows and we all admit we love chatting on Anyport!! What fun we would have and the food would be fabulous all trying to outdo each other.
OR, we all get on the Canal du Midi and experience eating all down the waterway at quaint villages. I am so keen.

[casimira]

I love reading these memories of meals shared together in the "old style".
Kerouac's memory very much reminds me of our Sunday gatherings at our family farm.
Thanks for sharing these good people.

[cheerypeabrain]

I usually dish up in the kitchen, if I let Jeff serve himself he wouldn't take any vegetables but I only cook 'enough'..we rarely have leftovers.

I only use serving dishes if we have guests.

[tod2]

I know where you are coming from Cheery. I too serve our food in the kitchen but from the Salton Hot-tray. We have a small table in the kitchen and eat there because as so many of us, we love our telly and the darn thing is far too big for my double hot-tray counter but its a smart TV and we can watch YouTube. If family are present we eat at the 8 seater dining table. We have no TV in the lounge, only kitchen and bedroom.
I too, serve up my husbands plate of food then mine, but he won't touch his until I am seated. What a guy!
I love hearing about the different cultures and their family traditions and modern deviations from them.

[kerouac2]

I think that many husbands are happy to be under the control of their serving partner. And the others just put up with it.

[mich64]

Mar 16, 2021 15:56:18 GMT tod2 said:

I too, serve up my husbands plate of food then mine, but he won't touch his until I am seated. What a guy!

I am not surprised! He is indeed a gentleman Tod!

[htmb]

When my children were young, some foods (bread, butter, salad) were put on the table, but I fixed most plates in the kitchen. However, our kitchen and dining room were small and the oven was just a few steps from the table so there was always lots of consulting about portions. For the picky eaters, I always insisted they try just a bit of something (broccoli, eggplant), before they totally crossed it off their list of desired foods.

When I was a child, my father worked long hours so my brother, sister, and I ate weekday meals without parents, as our mother hovered over us. We had a round table and my brother and I sat facing each other, with my sister in between to keep us from fighting. For large Sunday dinners, and family gatherings, we always set the food up buffet-style in the kitchen. Everyone served themselves and then took a seat at the dining room table. My mother always served herself last, so we all waited until she was seated to begin eating.

I still have the round table I grew up with. It’s in my kitchen now. My parents’ dining room table is also in my current dining room. and I have the drop-leaf table my parents first used when we were small, too. I use it as a sideboard. Other than possibly one son, my children are not interested in inheriting these items that were so important to family and bring back so many nice memories to me.

[htmb]

My mother’s grandparents were very elegant and refined. My great-grandfather was a violinist who later went on to open music stores in three different Florida cities. He also was very active in Rotary International and helped found clubs in both Madrid and Havana (if memory serves me right). My great-grandmother, college-educated in the late 1800s, was active in local causes and helped establish a local symphony, while also bringing in celebrated conductors to perform. I don’t think they had a slew of cash, but they were comfortable and were kind, loving people. I must say, they were also from the north. Not southerners at all. (Too bad their only child married a rogue, but that’s a whole other story.)

Going to my great-grandparents’ house for a holiday meal was quite an event. We have a “silent home movie” that was taken on Easter Sunday in the late 1950s. In it, we are all sitting around the table. My brother is about
2 1/2 and I’m 6, and we’re both dressed in our all-white Easter outfits. My great-grandmother is sitting at one end of the long table, across from my great-grandfather. My mother, father and my mother’s parents complete the group. What’s so astounding is that we are being served by the gardener, all cleaned up and dressed in white jacket and tie, and the maid, who also did all the cooking.

I can remember being fascinated by the fact that anytime we wanted something from the kitchen, the gardener would magically appear to ask what was needed. It was like my great-grandmother and James the gardener were on the same wave length, or something. I later figured out the “secret” on another day when I was left to explore the house, a treasure trove of old objects and secret doors. My brother and I crawled under that dining room table and we discovered a button, attached to the floor. It poked through a hole in the tree of life Persian rug and, whenever we needed something, my great-grandmother would lightly press the button with her foot.

I got into a lot of trouble that day for continuously ringing the button and running to watch the knocker fall on a bell in the kitchen area. The rug, with a tiny little hole in it, was claimed by me when the time came to pass it down and it’s been on my bedroom floor ever since.

Edited to add: my great-grandfather was confined to a chair and unable to walk in later years, and my great-grandmother developed dementia. I’m guessing this dinner was at about the time all these issues were becoming apparent.

[onlyMark]

When I was growing up my father always worked shifts, so he was often not there for meals. When he wasn't my mother would plate up our food and we'd eat it on the table in the kitchen. We did have a dining table in another room but that was only used for Christmas and special occasions.
All that changed when my parents got a pub. For a few years my brother and I ate by ourselves. My mother popping back stage to cook our meal and serve it up, then go back to work.
My parents would eat together in the time between closing up at 3pm and opening again at 6pm.

After the pub my father returned to working shifts and the old routine started back up again until he retired and then usually either I or my brother weren't living at home anyway. They would usually eat together on the table in the kitchen again but with the door open to the living room so they could watch the TV. Again the pots and pans would be left on the cooker and she would plate up for whoever was there.
Later, as she became infirm she'd sit on her chair in front of the TV and have her dinner on a tray, and we'd serve ourselves.

My father always ate his 'dinner' at 12.30pm, come hell or high water and have the usual tea and supper at some time later, but dinner was at 12.30pm on the days he wasn't working or at weekends.
If you were supposed to be eating it but weren't there, it'd be on a plate in the oven waiting and often dried out when you got back.
Only once, in my late teens, did I complain the food was in that state (after coming back two hours late) - my mother told me that from tomorrow then, your dinner's at the chip shop. Get it yourself.

[kerouac2]

My grandmother had an internal clock, so meal times were extremely precise. My grandfather would catch hell if he stayed at the café playing cards with his friends too long. (Not to mention the accusatory "You've been smoking!") When my grandmother moved to Florida with my parents in 1981 (a situation which lasted less than two years), my mother was completely stressed out if she and my father were running errands or going fishing in the morning. They would have to rush back home to get lunch on the table at noon or they would find my grandmother perhaps not literally stamping her foot in the kitchen but definitely doing it mentally. One thing of which I approve is that my grandmother stopped cooking when she moved in with them. She had been cooking for her entire life until age 83 and now it was time to be served. Good for her! Of course she was happy to stir pots or peel potatoes for my mother, but that was about it.

[lugg]

Mar 16, 2021 18:38:56 GMT htmb said:

My parents’ dining room table is also in my current dining room.

My parents dining table is in my dining room too Htmb. Plus their other dining room furniture. Now it seems it is very out dated despite the quality of the wood, although I guess it will be an antique of the future. My children also have no interest so as I downsize in the next year or so I will probably gift it to a charity in the hope that it will continue to bring others pleasure.

Such lovely and / or thought provoking stories yet again - it shows how important food is in terms of family memories and the nurturing aspect of it I guess. Not the food itself ... the coming together to eat and celebrate or just connect on an ordinary day is what we remember most.