I forget where I first heard it (I think it might have been Descartes), but I have long been a fan of the notion that certain things just have a "ring of truth" to them. If you've never heard the idiom before, the basic idea is that some things are super-true. They are not just true, but they are so obviously true, that as soon as you hear them, you recognize the truthiness inherent in them. I usually get excited when I hear one of these, since it means that I am a tiny bit less ignorant from that moment forward. For the first time in memory, though, I experienced the ring of truth.
First, let me paint the scene with a little bit of background. I'd made plans to have dinner with my friend, but we'd agreed to play it by ear. The end result was that we ended up settling on a pretty late dinner in a local spot. That worked out just fine, since we weren't shooting for gourmet, we just wanted to grab some food and catch up in the process. So, we headed out to dinner and chit-chatted all the while.
Given that backdrop, when our waitress asked for our drink orders I asked for a beer. In hindsight, this would lead to a much more interesting meal. Anyhow, because I had asked for a beer, I decided on a burger and fries. I could have swapped out the fries for a salad instead, but the combination of a beer with a salad just seemed wrong to me. I couldn't picture the flavors of the two items mixing all that well. And of course, me being me, I joked aloud about a good chunk of this decision process.
My friend, on the other hand, had asked for a soda, so she did decide to spring for the salad. She was kind enough to offer me some, but I still wasn't sure about mixing the beer with the salad, so I passed. However, her offer did make me look down at her plate for a moment. She was eating with the classical "European" method that I had been taught as a kid. I always appreciate when people take the time to do the little things with care, so I smiled just a tad when I saw this. She was definitely taking the time to eat carefully and properly.
This was particularly true because she was eating a salad; she could have easily eschewed the knife. On second glance, though, I noticed that the knife wasn't for show. She actually cut the leafy greens in the salad. Remember that whole bit about the moment of truth? This was it. If I had ever had any doubts about how one is supposed to handle a fork and knife, they were completely gone. If eating was a craft, she had honed her craft to an art. By that point, I wasn't one bit surprised that she was taking small enough bites to continue a conversation throughout the whole meal. Also, I suddenly felt a little silly about eating my fries with my hands.
On the bright side, I now had a great example of how you're supposed to wield a fork and knife. Despite feeling a little uncouth in the process, I'd learned a little bit in the process of the meal. Seems like a fair trade to me.
First, let me paint the scene with a little bit of background. I'd made plans to have dinner with my friend, but we'd agreed to play it by ear. The end result was that we ended up settling on a pretty late dinner in a local spot. That worked out just fine, since we weren't shooting for gourmet, we just wanted to grab some food and catch up in the process. So, we headed out to dinner and chit-chatted all the while.
Given that backdrop, when our waitress asked for our drink orders I asked for a beer. In hindsight, this would lead to a much more interesting meal. Anyhow, because I had asked for a beer, I decided on a burger and fries. I could have swapped out the fries for a salad instead, but the combination of a beer with a salad just seemed wrong to me. I couldn't picture the flavors of the two items mixing all that well. And of course, me being me, I joked aloud about a good chunk of this decision process.
My friend, on the other hand, had asked for a soda, so she did decide to spring for the salad. She was kind enough to offer me some, but I still wasn't sure about mixing the beer with the salad, so I passed. However, her offer did make me look down at her plate for a moment. She was eating with the classical "European" method that I had been taught as a kid. I always appreciate when people take the time to do the little things with care, so I smiled just a tad when I saw this. She was definitely taking the time to eat carefully and properly.
This was particularly true because she was eating a salad; she could have easily eschewed the knife. On second glance, though, I noticed that the knife wasn't for show. She actually cut the leafy greens in the salad. Remember that whole bit about the moment of truth? This was it. If I had ever had any doubts about how one is supposed to handle a fork and knife, they were completely gone. If eating was a craft, she had honed her craft to an art. By that point, I wasn't one bit surprised that she was taking small enough bites to continue a conversation throughout the whole meal. Also, I suddenly felt a little silly about eating my fries with my hands.
On the bright side, I now had a great example of how you're supposed to wield a fork and knife. Despite feeling a little uncouth in the process, I'd learned a little bit in the process of the meal. Seems like a fair trade to me.
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