Some Chinese practices: 10 (Table manners.3: Leave some food for other people)

My family upbringing also taught us to check the size of each dish on the table, to make sure that there's enough for everyone else when you dive in.  Go for seconds if there's still some left after everyone's had a share.  It's not so much about food, but pure respect and consideration for other people, even if they're your own family, not a guest.

I was the last to arrive at the Chinese restaurant for the teacher-student Xmas meal, so the only seat left at the round table right in the corner was the first one the waitress would get to when she brought the food up.

Instead of taking my share and passing the dish round the table, I chose, as per my family upbringing, to turn the lazy Susan so that the person on my left got the first share, with me being, therefore, the last.

The boyfriend from the previous meal with the other lot of students was there again, but it was a different teacher-student meal this time (with his girlfriend being the teacher instead of the student, me trying to help her meet her bills by giving her some teaching hours).  So, on both occasions, he had nothing to do with the group, but had obviously just tagged along for the food (and the shared bill).  No one else had brought their partners.

He was three seats away from me, which is less than halfway round the table of ten.

When each dish got to him, he'd pile his rice bowl up high, then the side plate as well, with as much of the food as he could, before turning the lazy Susan to move it on to the next person.  There was so much food in his bowl and on his side plate that it looked like he was hoarding for a famine on the horizon.

This was the second meal where he repeated the poking around, with his own chopsticks, in the seafood noodle dish, yet again "looking for the squid" when I asked him what he was doing.  I then heard him telling the people beside him that I'd told him off the previous time for doing the same thing.

When I next saw the class, after Xmas, two of the chaps (who are very caring and considerate men) complained at the pub session after the lesson that they got hardly any food out of the whole evening, because so much of it had been siphoned off by diner No.4 that there wasn't much left by the time it got to them, the last two of the ten at the table.

I said if I were to turn up for the next meal with the students and find him there, I'd suddenly remember I had a double booking and walk out.

In hindsight (my brain is so slow), I should've turned the situation round.  If the lazy Susan wouldn't revolve in the other direction, I should've physically picked up each dish to give to No.9 and No.10 first, and asked them to pass it round the other way.  That would've meant those two men getting some food, and perhaps also sent a message to people who seem to be out for a cheap meal, eating more than their one-tenth share of the bill.  More importantly, it's to let them know that one has to respect and think of other people as well.

(London, late 90s)

* lazy Susan:  (from googling) a turntable (rotating tray) placed on a table or countertop to aid in distributing food. Lazy Susans may be made from a variety of materials but are usually glass, wood, or plastic. They are circular and placed in the centre of a table to share dishes easily among diners.

How to dent male chauvinistic behaviour (Singapore)

My father absolutely loved parties.  When he was put in charge of my maternal grandparents’ grocery shop, he used to rope the villagers in for a drink and titbits, all grabbed off the shelves, once the shop was shut for the day.  

Chinese entertainment style is to have cooked dishes served up one at a time, piping hot, fresh from the wok, without any rice*.  So, my father would make the two shop employees stay behind and cook the food, which produced a lot of grumbling in the kitchen.

When he was found to be hopeless at managing the shop, and was relieved of that post, he transferred his partying to his home, with the womenfolk taking the place of the two shop employees.

He’d set up a big round table in the living room, complete with a lazy Susan.  The women (my mother, paternal aunt, maternal aunt, us four daughters, the two servant girls) would be slaving away in the kitchen.  

Once the men had had time to settle down and take their first sip of alcohol, we’d serve up the first dish.  We’d then retire to the kitchen and quickly eat whatever had been put aside for us, keeping an eye in the meantime on how far the men had got with the first dish, to be ready to cook and serve the second dish.  Sometimes, instead of putting aside some food for ourselves before serving up the dish, we’d eat whatever of the previous dish the men might’ve failed to polish off, which would mean us eating only after they’d had their fill of the dish.

This would go on, dish after dish, with us snatching fleeting feeding moments behind the scenes.  It might be a party at home, but the number of dishes would easily run up to eight, if not the standard ten for a banquet.  Serving five dishes over the span of an evening’s entertaining just didn’t seem hospitable enough.

One day, my second older sister (of three), the rebellious one, who was in her late teens at the time, refused to take any more of this treatment.  “We’re the ones doing all the work.  Why should we eat behind the scenes and between courses, sometimes even only the leftovers, like servants?”  

She went to the living room, pulled up a chair and sat down at the table.  The men’s eyebrows went up.  Annoyed, my father asked: “What are you doing here?!?”

“Well, I have worked very hard, helping to cook all this food, so I think I have earned the right to sit down at the table and eat it comfortably.”

Shamed by this, the men’s memory was suddenly jolted:  “Oh, where’s your wife?  She should be sitting down, eating with us too.”

My father never held another men-only party after that.

(Singapore, 1960s)

*Rice is the cheap and filling ingredient, which the host would not serve for fear of being thought miserly.  At a proper banquet, the rice dish (a fried rice) is usually Course No.8 of 10 courses, in case the guests are still hungry after all the meat and seafood.

The hidden message in Chinese food 05: eating bean curd (Taiwan)

As already mentioned in another blog, the lunch outings for the local staff at Conoco Taiwan often had ten, if not 12, people at the table.  

On one occasion, there was no lazy Susan on the table, for some reason.  The accountant, Cray Chang, who was sitting at the other side of the big table from me, asked me, looking at the bean curd dish placed in front of me, “我可以吃你的豆腐吗？wǒ kěyǐ chī nǐ de dòufǔ ma? / Can I eat your bean curd?”  Because Chinese meals are communal, I happily said, “Of course you can!”  

Everyone roared with laughter.  Cray’s assistant Peggy said, “You’ve walked into his trap!”

It turned out that 吃豆腐 chī dòufǔ / “eat bean curd” means “[a man] taking advantage of [a woman]”, usually in the sexual way.  

Some 20-odd years later, in my middle age (and therefore less easily embarrassed about such things), I discovered the imagery behind this phrase:  bean curd has the same texture as a woman’s breasts.

(Taiwan, 1975)

The hidden message in Chinese food 02: how to sack an employee (Taiwan)

When I was working at Conoco Taiwan (1975–76), the staff would go out regularly to eat at restaurants as a group, often numbering ten or even 12.  We’d have a lazy Susan* on the table, so that everyone would be able to reach all the dishes.  

On one occasion, my boss, the Chief Geologist Dr. Page, came along, so we ordered a whole Chinese roast duck.  It came with all the slices laid out in the middle of the platter, and the head, wings, and parson’s nose in the same respective positions as on the real bird.  One of my colleagues twirled the lazy Susan and everyone waited until it came to a halt, then the rest of them laughed at the person the head of the duck was facing.  

It was explained to Dr. Page and me, the two outsiders, that if an employer wanted to remove a particular employee, he’d instruct the waiter to serve the duck dish with the head pointing at the person about to be sacked.  

My immediate thought was I hoped the duck dish would come last, so that at least the poor person could eat his/her meal in blissful ignorance of his/her impending fate.

(Taiwan, 1975)

* lazy Susan:  “a revolving stand or tray on a table, used esp. for holding condiments.”