Yeah Yeah, I Know....As A Food Writer I Should Know This; But Should I Care? Really?

My husband has a bone to pick with me. To be more precise, he has a knife and fork to pick with me. He loves me, really he does. But the silliest thing irks him to the point of near-madness. In fact, I’m almost inclined to keep my shenanigans going just to see how far I can push him over the edge and straight into a rubber room. But I digress.

This thing of which I speak is simple enough and involves, oddly enough, the placement of said knife and fork once a meal is done. I have always subscribed to the notion of putting these utensils on the plate and/or table in whatever manner happened to please me at the moment. Now whether that meant fork tines down, knife placed across the fork to form a cross, fork tines up, fork stabbed into a piece of dry meat or whatever, it didn’t much matter. Usually the waiter or waitress would have a pretty good indication that I’ve finished with my meal by a) the lack of food on my plate, b) the licking of my fingers (and sometimes the plate), or c) when I’ve fallen asleep in my chair due to culinary boredom. 

My husband has been on a mission to gently ‘teach’ me the error of my ways and guide me down the path of decorum, away from my apparent backwoods swamp-like table manners and usher me into the world of the refined. He’d just better be glad I don’t slop up my food with my fingers.

While it’s true you would think that I, a burgeoning food writer, would be the person to know such a thing, in my defense I will say that my name is not Martha-Bloody-Stewart, I didn’t grow up reading the quintessential utensil etiquette guide and, as in my husband's case, my cousin’s mom didn’t happen to be an eqituette-obsessed Lady in Waiting for the youngest prince of the Dutch royal family who would impart such knowledge to him as was done for my husband as a youngster. So there.

But I have taken his words to heart. In fact, I have even done research on the proper placement of the knife and fork at the conclusion of a course or meal. And while it all seems a bit formal, especially for everyday situations, I am determined to persevere. Don’t get me wrong. I am far from a cavewoman and I didn’t grow up in a barn. It’s just that after all these years of placing my knife and fork on the plate any which way after I’m done eating when dining out has worked tremendously well for me so why stop now? Of course, there is the dark side of this that I may never know about—the snickers and snide remarks from the waiter as he gets back to the kitchen with my discarded plate.

Waiter #1: “Hey Gus, you see that lady at table 12?” 

Waiter #2: “Yeah, what about her?”

Waiter #1: “What a Neanderthal! She left her fork tines down on the plate and she had the nerve to put the knife in the bread basket!”

Waiter #2: “Oh man. How rude!”

Waiter #1: “Yeah. I’m gonna go see if I can shame a really good tip outta her.”

So in a nutshell here's what I learned:

Give the waiter or waitress a sign. We’re not talking sign language, but rather utensil language. The fork should rest on the plate with the tines up. Lay the knife next to the fork with the blade facing in. Now here’s where my sources diverge slightly. There seems to be some debate as to where on the plate the utensils go. Some sources state they should be straight up and down in the center of the plate with the handles resting about one inch off the rim; other sources swear by the tips of the utensils pointing to ten o’clock while the handles point at four; still others say a ten o’clock and five o’clock placement is proper.

Does it matter what time your plate is displaying. Really?

After all is said and done, this is going to take some time. You just don’t undo forty-eight years of habitual behavior overnight. And yes, I may have the occasion slip up. One day, I might accidentally lay my fork on the table instead of tines up on the plate next to the knife. Oh for heaven’s sake, please don’t arrest me for that infraction. And whatever you do, please don’t have a conniption when the knife blade is facing out instead of in. Take it easy…just breathe.

I love my husband, and I do this for him. I don’t believe I’m an embarrassment to him when we dine out. Why should I be? I’m an intelligent woman, easy on the eyes, a great conversationalist and I have an uncanny ability to get the wait staff to open up and be honest about the freshness of the seafood on the menu. But if he should dare make the mistake of reaching over to rearrange the silverware on my plate at the end of a meal while we’re dining out, believe me when I say he lived a good and fruitful life and he will be sorely missed by friends and family alike. I will make it look like an accident. And to my husband, if you’re reading this…smooches!