Saturday, June 5, 2010
Before a recent dinner out, there was intended to be restraint*.
A big part (sorry, that should be a moderate portion) of exercising restraint involves having just a little of something you want, rather than an entire tureen of it**. Some meals work well when everything is piled in the middle and shared. Other meals involve companionable sampling from individual orders. For most people I know, this is a given, and any resistance to it is futile (and removes the opportunity to try all the other things that you couldn’t decide whether to order). In some cases, the offering (and subsequent eating) of leftovers is also par for the course. Others, however, will defend their plates with their forks and disapproval.
There was (with tongue relatively in cheek) consultation regarding snaffles of what might be ordered. The preference (with tongue equally in cheek) was that the snaffles should be of a small-ish variety. There was then consideration of what exactly a small snaffle might be... and whether it was the name for baby squirrels***, or the collective noun for some sort of hungry young animal (like magpies, for instance). Or if they were related to puggles.
Picture: Sharon Montrose
As it turned out, the the restraint was relative, which is about as good a justification as saying that you only bought one Chanel handbag, but you could easily have bought three.
* This works well when nouvelle cuisine is involved (which is very rarely). Or when you don’t like the food (although restraint does suggest a level of going without, and not just not wanting. That, and deliberately eating at places you don’t like is a level of perverseness beyond even me).
** I would do well to remember the usefulness of moderation... and that it doesn’t work by averaging out total overindulgence with monastic denial.
*** If snaffles are the name for baby anything, my vote goes to the Californian tree rabbit.