I was enjoying my supper this evening-- spaghetti with red chicken sauce. It was good and it was satisfying. Nicely buttered rye toast in the left hand.
And as I finished up, mopping the sauce with the bread, I had a flashback to the dinner table in my childhood home. I realized that I had utilized one of my father's quirks, violated another. I had slathered the entire slice of bread, plastered it, in Dad's parlance. He was a stickler on the point holding that while plasterers had their place it was not at the dinner table. One dabs a bit of butter onto the bread, consumes that portion, then he dabs a bit more, and so on. I had violated this rule this evening.
Strangely, though Dad found it anathema to plaster the bread, he thought it not uncouth to mop his plate with the last morsel of bread. "Waste not, want not," don't you know? And this quirk I utilized.
Enjoyable meal and fun reminiscing about one of the most loved and most influential people in my life, my Daddy.
8 comments:
I am puzzled by the prohibition on buttering the entire slice of bread. Perhaps it is a leftover from what was once considered polite society? Kind of like we still generally eschew elbows on the table? I mean, really, what's the harm in elbows? Yet it it still said around the table in my home: Garrett, Garrett, strong and able, get your elbows off the table. This is not a horse's stable, but a first-class dining table!
Jim, I think it was a delicate nicety of the past. Elbows on the table? Prohibited in our home, too, but I had not heard the little verse.
We do plate mopping here too--usually with raw veggies instead of bread.
Chuck, again, Waste not, want not. And it is so good! We are bread people and have the avoirdupois to support that claim.
Thinking about one of Dad's rules is something I do often. We were so schooled in keeping our upper arms against our sides while eating and bringing the hand to the plate and then the mouth (using the elbow like a hinge) that I find myself feeling irritated when someone I'm eating with has an elbow flying in the air. That early training really does stick. (I think the elbow rule was made up in Dad's family when they had ten kids around the table. Think about how many fights that rule kept from happening.) BTW I still tear my bread apart and butter only the portion I'm getting ready to eat. Did it just today while eating dinner.
Vee, how blessed we were to be able to carry those wonderful bits of wisdom with us all these years. Dad was an effective teacher for sure.
Especially difficult is sitting left of a leftie, bless her, or him, who has not learned sufficient elbow control and in spite of my best efforts embarrassment ensues. Rule at our table: the sinister eater is always seated at the left end of the table. And we have several in our family. Quiz: How many "left ends" does a table possess?
Two + plus the end ends?
Vee, yes. Fortunately accommodating two per meal was maximum requirement and all worked well.
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