All day, every day, my friend Priscilla is correcting me!
Like last week we were at the mall eating at a pizza restaurant – you know, the one where some of the tables are practically in the mall’s traffic pattern. Yeah, that one. Well, the pizza is awesome there.
We ordered the house specialty, Sacramento Sausage with asiago cheese. The pizza arrives at our table and, to Pricilla’s utter embarrassment, I dig right in, fingers and all. Ma-a-an, was it good. You know asiago cheese does not drip nor is it stringy, and the meat is a perfect blend of Italian grade A sausage.
Pricilla had a conniption, to say the least. There I was practically advertising to Saturday shoppers that pizza is eaten by hand! I didn’t know any different. She whispered to me that, when in public, pizza is cut into bit-sized pieces and then eaten with a fork.
I say, “But I thought that was the right way to eat a bread roll?” (aside from using utensils). She has gotten me all mixed up. “Well, isn’t pizza like bread?” she scolds. “Well, yeah,” I say. “So it’s all relative, Sweetie” she says.
She really put a damper on my Sacramento Sausage moment.
Yesterday we went with some friends to a local Burger Bar. We start with appetizers: a bushel of fries. Within minutes a huge mass of potato fritters lands in the middle of the table. Hey, I love fries, so I hogged a hearty stash and started to eat.
That just would not do for Priscilla.
She drowns the basket of Crinkles with ketchup, so now the heap looks as though it was attacked by a “sauced” silly string maniac. As for everyone else, whether they liked the ketchup concoction or not, they began to pull strategically from the communal pile, eventually leaving a puddle of soggy red lumps.
My fries and burger were excellent, as I put the ketchup on the side and then dipped as needed.
I know she has my best interest at heart, yet I think her take on other matters of etiquette are a bit fuzzy. For instance, she says slurping your soup is telling the cook you really like it. And when you eat corn on the cob, you dip the entire cob into the butter log to saturate it. That way, you don’t have to dip it again after you have taken a bite. She also says it is OK to double-dip a chip, when the dip is tomato-based (something about the acidic qualities?).
Finally, I asked, “Are you sure about that, hon?” Because your soup-slurping revelation may not be heard by the restaurant chef, when the child in the next booth is on a sugar high. And I’m pretty sure there is no dipping when it comes to corn on the cob – some spreading, but definitely no dipping – and especially no double-dipping, no matter what kind of dip.
Pricilla, indignant, stood there and said, “Well, dahling, if you want to do things your way go ahead, let’s see how far you get without moi! And don’t call me ‘hon’; my name is Priscilla, and that’s Miss Priss to YOU!”
Readers: In every incident, Miss Priss is sadly mistaken. And finishing the soup compliments a chef.
©2008 Madolena Key, Mannerisms LLC, www.mannerismsllc.net