The Dinner Party

Robert
Treborlang
Australia

The Dinner Party
To be invited for dinner to a middle class home in Australia is quite an honour. It is also a good idea to eat a decent meal beforehand.

  The basic idea behind this kind of dinner party is to get together a group of men and women who are all used to eating at six pm, and then not feed them till well past nine.

  To be fair, some bridging alimentation is provided about an hour after your arrival, in the shape of "savoury snacks". Make sure you are standing near the kitchen door as they are brought out, since the life span of these snacks, like those of invisible atomic particles created in laboratories, can only be measured in nanoseconds.

  Before the actual dinner, you are expected to drink and join in the mixed conversation. "Mixed", of course, does not mean women and men. It's the topics and the drinks that are mixed. Clarice Thong, Duchess of Highborough, in her "Souvenirs Of An English Parasite's Wife", wrote of her visit in the early 50's (although she fails to mention whether she's talking about the nineteenth or twentieth centuries):

There is something terribly quaint about a country where men stand at one end of a room and women at the other. It is a very sensible way to behave given their condition, and Hewlett and I often wondered why the custom had not been made compulsory behaviour in the other fascinating Third World countries we visited as well.

  If forced into the position of having to make conversation with women, males are usually careful not to say anything definite or concrete that might inadvertently reveal some secrets about themselves or their feelings. They prefer, instead, to gesticulate a great deal in graphic depiction of the "form" and "abstract shape"of things, rather than their "content". It is also customary to accompany all this arm-waving with a nervous laugh, in order to reassure "the ladies" that what is being said is not in the least important.

  Females, on the other hand, prefer to take the stance of one left in charge of a large heap of rights and wrongs that desperately need sorting. My girlfriends were all masters at this kind of thing. For the best effect they liked to screw up their eyes and give the impression of being slightly indisposed. Firmly clenched hands and a rigidly held body also helped emphasise the point. The general aim was to stop the male in his tracks.

  Lines of dialogue to be used for this purpose could be as follows: "Oh, I don't think anyone would agree with that. How can you make such a statement! You're being grossly unfair. That's a terrible generalisation"

  After a few such exchanges, dinner may be served.

In China, a country with a three-thousand-year culinary history, dinner that does not consist of at least eight to ten dishes, is considered ill-mannered indeed. And this in times of famine. In Germany, home of the Large Portion, a plate that does not groan under vast quantities of food is simply not worth looking at.

  By contrast, the Australian hostess, in her endeavour to be sophisticated, will spend a great deal of energy making sure that she has counted the right numbers of everything. You know, six guests - six t-bone steaks, six potatoes and three halved grilled tomatoes. After all, there is nothing better than simple, wholesome food.
  "I'm sorry but someone here must have helped themselves to an extra potato."
  "Oh, it must have been me."
  "I'm afraid I'll have to ask for it back. Otherwise John misses out."
  "John may have my portion too if he wishes."
  "No, no. I want you to tell me what you think of it. I feel I may have overcooked it a bit."

  Everybody knows that this is a trap. The hostess, mother, wife, aunt or hotel proprietor just loves to run down her own cooking, to a point where it is downright difficult not to agree with her.
  But, of course, you must never do this.
  "I am sorry the cake's so dry."
  "It's beautiful."
  "I think I made it a bit too sweet."
  "No! No! I love it!"
  "I used all the right ingredients but added too much lemon."
  "I can hardly taste it."
  "But it's a lemon cake!"
  "Oh."
  "So you don't like it!"

  No matter how cleverly you might be baited, hold steadfast to a contrary opinion. Whatever it is. Even if the food is tough as plastic, or drier than the mouths of Burke and Wills in the desert, you must insist that whatever you're eating is just perfect.
  "Mmmm. That spoonful of gravy was superb."
  "Thank you. I didn't make too much because I didn't want anyone to have to drown the natural taste of the meat."
  "Ah, the meat! I've even eaten the gristle off the bone."

  Just remember that you are expected to talk about the food. Endlessly. The other guests will know by instinct to praise everything placed before them, whether they like it or not. Having been trained at home over mother's cooking, they show their appreciation for every morsel they get.

Copyright © 1991-2002 - Robert Treborlang

Robert
Treborlang
Australia

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