The truth of the platter

I was at a dinner party one evening where I’d deliberately chosen to skip eating their meals. The menu, gastronomically enchanting, was delivered in advance, and I’d chewed faster on a serving of pecans while perusing the italicised list. ‘Fabulous’, I thought, wondering if I wouldn’t appear to be a pompous character for requesting a fish knife with the lobster main.

While the long dinner table was still three sleeps away, I’d picked the right top for it - a conversation piece, not too Dali. That’s what one should have at a sit down do, and I’d chosen to wear a turtleneck that bore the ripening of summer berries on a Christmas night.

Now it’s a fact of life for those who have to honestly admit that they won’t eat if they’re not up for a meal. Aromas that could seduce a monk won’t stand a chance to someone who feels hungry every three to four days. So, there’s not much I could do that evening when I’d realised I wasn’t hungry.

For fellow sympathisers, here are tips on how to engage such a situation.

Attend. I went, because fish knife or not, not showing up would guarantee snobbishness on my part. Moreover, conjuring a lie isn’t good form, especially when it comes to that which is as sacred as food. Of course, stating that you’ll still join but aren’t hungry may be discarded by the host as utter nonsense.

Sit with people who love to eat. As soon as they deliver compliments about the wild mushroom fricassee, then that’s your cue to load a serving upon a piece of bread and align the offering toward their platter. Look around for another person to serve. They’re your saviours.

Distract. Leafy salads can be fiddly to pass about, so let the entrée rest upon your plate. When the attendant arrives with the next round, gesture ‘No, thank you’. Request a drink instead. All the better if you happen to look parched, perhaps from doling out servings.

Use table ornaments and drinking glasses to obscure the view of your eating territory. That averts the likelihood of an alarmed voice from declaring, ‘Hey, you haven’t even touched your sturgeon!’

Shine the spotlight on others while you eat. There will be a do-gooder who deserves attention. Keep the focus on them (instead of what you’re not doing with your oesophagus).

Mention brunches. It presents an impression of being a hearty eater. I did spend an entire afternoon with a foodie who talked exclusively about meals and where to order the best of it. Handy to know.

It’s a jaunty trend that just won’t leave - the allure of clicking photographs with surgical exactness. (Since I come from a family that frowns upon meddling with gadgets while dining, the option of eats, shoots and leaves remains fairly limited to me).

Deploy celebrity chefs, even if you’ve watched one episode a decade ago. I’d quoted Gordon Ramsay to be a really hard taskmaster in his interview with CNN’s late Larry King.

I’m not all tomfoolery when it comes to food. I’ll swear by Jamie Oliver’s tip to blend a dollop of butter into a preparation of risotto once it’s off the heat. Sorts it out. Personally tested. I do dread that I’ll turn into discriminating Anton Ego from the animated film Ratatouille who proclaimed, “If I don’t love it, then I don’t swallow”. I’m not that guy, no.

No? No.

No, because he’s a lean and towering bloke and I’m endowed with whatever the opposite of that is. In short, I look well fed. My father used to comment in Punjabi how I look as if I come from a household that eats well. Hence, I’ll bring for others custard cream biscuits and bakery fresh cakes.

A pot of delicious stew has been bubbling away as I write this. The cook with skilled hands is less curious that I’ve not been enticed to try any. We’ve succumbed to the adage that it does take five uneven fingers to make the world go round. After all, there is a holy time to break one’s fast, not a moment before, and not a moment after.

Melissa Randhawa is a UAE-based journalist for 27 years. Born and raised in Dubai, she writes with fondness about this dynamic hub and its wonderfully diverse community