Table Manners
On Sunday afternoon after lunch, my family and I went for a walk. We headed for our favorite cafe down the road for coffee and ice cream. But when we got there, it was closed. Turns out that they had new opening hours. So instead we went to the roadside inn that we had passed by earlier.
The inn turned out to be something old worldly. Dark wooden slats lined the floor, and the bar by the doorway was built around an old copper kettle from a brewery. Wooden benches lined up the windows which looked out the street, and these were matched by groupings of old wood tables and chairs polished by years of use. It was mid-afternoon, and the only other guests present were a man at the bar who didn't look up when we came in, a man and a woman drinking beer, and a couple at one of the tables by the window. We chose to sit down near the latter.
Soon the waitress came to take our orders. Gerald ordered a cup of coffee and a slice of raspberry cream cake, the special of the day. I wanted a cola and an Eispalatschinken, or a pancake filled with vanilla ice cream and topped by whipped cream, strawberries, chocolate syrup and caster sugar, served on a huge platter (a sinful delight!). Nicole wanted the same dessert as mine, while Nadine settled for vanilla ice cream.
While we were waiting for our orders, the conversation at the next table caught our attention. A woman with a brassy voice and long mousy brown hair was dominating the discussion. The man who was her dinner companion merely asked her questions and made the appropriate comments. She was talking about art history, and what her students had discussed with her, the Frau Professor. By her tone of voice, gestures, language and mien, she seemed to declare: “Look at me, I'm an expert.”
Although Austria ceased to exist as an Empire at the turn of the 20th century, vestiges of it remain in modern society. One of these is the fascination for and importance people place on their titles, be it academic, honorary or a sign of noble provenance (an increasing rarity). A younger generation of academics nowadays don't care much for these, but our neighbor wasn’t one of them.
Soon, our drinks and desserts were brought to our table. Our neighbors had ordered dinner, and these were served as well. We settled down to savor our dessert. But again our thoughts were distracted by her talk. It was obvious that Frau Professor wasn’t letting food get in the way of discussion. She talked her way through helpings of salad. “She's talking with her mouth full, Mommy!” said Nicole. Hush up, I said.
It turned out to be a non-stop performance. She elaborated her thoughts on art history and its epochs through mouthfuls of steak and occasional sips of wine. Then she mentioned an era that struck me as appropriate: the Middle Ages.
Table manners in the Middle Ages were really remarkable. In those days you shared a plate with somebody, brought your own knife to the feast, and used it to cut and carry food to your mouth. Spoons were used for soups and puddings, and forks were unheard of. You ate by digging your hands in the dishes. And when you ate roasted meat or fowl, you threw down the bones and ribs on the floor for the dogs to chew.
But Frau Professor had none of that. Instead she took her salad bowl in her hand, pushed the remaining greens to the edge of the bowl, and picked them up in her mouth. That done, she proceeded to pick her teeth by using one of her hairs as dental floss.
At that point I thought of Werner, a friend of ours who's a dance instructor. During the year he trains young men and women for the ball season, not only by teaching them dance steps, but also through courses in deportment and etiquette. According to him, rules of international etiquette are always changing - a natural consequence of diversity in the global village. That's why arbiters of etiquette worldwide are always on the lookout for changes, so they can pass on current trends to their students as soon as possible.
Too bad Werner wasn't there with us yesterday. I'm sure he'd have had a fit.
The inn turned out to be something old worldly. Dark wooden slats lined the floor, and the bar by the doorway was built around an old copper kettle from a brewery. Wooden benches lined up the windows which looked out the street, and these were matched by groupings of old wood tables and chairs polished by years of use. It was mid-afternoon, and the only other guests present were a man at the bar who didn't look up when we came in, a man and a woman drinking beer, and a couple at one of the tables by the window. We chose to sit down near the latter.
Soon the waitress came to take our orders. Gerald ordered a cup of coffee and a slice of raspberry cream cake, the special of the day. I wanted a cola and an Eispalatschinken, or a pancake filled with vanilla ice cream and topped by whipped cream, strawberries, chocolate syrup and caster sugar, served on a huge platter (a sinful delight!). Nicole wanted the same dessert as mine, while Nadine settled for vanilla ice cream.
While we were waiting for our orders, the conversation at the next table caught our attention. A woman with a brassy voice and long mousy brown hair was dominating the discussion. The man who was her dinner companion merely asked her questions and made the appropriate comments. She was talking about art history, and what her students had discussed with her, the Frau Professor. By her tone of voice, gestures, language and mien, she seemed to declare: “Look at me, I'm an expert.”
Although Austria ceased to exist as an Empire at the turn of the 20th century, vestiges of it remain in modern society. One of these is the fascination for and importance people place on their titles, be it academic, honorary or a sign of noble provenance (an increasing rarity). A younger generation of academics nowadays don't care much for these, but our neighbor wasn’t one of them.
Soon, our drinks and desserts were brought to our table. Our neighbors had ordered dinner, and these were served as well. We settled down to savor our dessert. But again our thoughts were distracted by her talk. It was obvious that Frau Professor wasn’t letting food get in the way of discussion. She talked her way through helpings of salad. “She's talking with her mouth full, Mommy!” said Nicole. Hush up, I said.
It turned out to be a non-stop performance. She elaborated her thoughts on art history and its epochs through mouthfuls of steak and occasional sips of wine. Then she mentioned an era that struck me as appropriate: the Middle Ages.
Table manners in the Middle Ages were really remarkable. In those days you shared a plate with somebody, brought your own knife to the feast, and used it to cut and carry food to your mouth. Spoons were used for soups and puddings, and forks were unheard of. You ate by digging your hands in the dishes. And when you ate roasted meat or fowl, you threw down the bones and ribs on the floor for the dogs to chew.
But Frau Professor had none of that. Instead she took her salad bowl in her hand, pushed the remaining greens to the edge of the bowl, and picked them up in her mouth. That done, she proceeded to pick her teeth by using one of her hairs as dental floss.
At that point I thought of Werner, a friend of ours who's a dance instructor. During the year he trains young men and women for the ball season, not only by teaching them dance steps, but also through courses in deportment and etiquette. According to him, rules of international etiquette are always changing - a natural consequence of diversity in the global village. That's why arbiters of etiquette worldwide are always on the lookout for changes, so they can pass on current trends to their students as soon as possible.
Too bad Werner wasn't there with us yesterday. I'm sure he'd have had a fit.
posted by Maria-Fe Parco Ortner at 8:53 PM
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