Calliopy Ranch

“Now, do you remember what I told you?” I asked, trying to negotiate the narrow, shrub-lined driveway leading up to Grandfather Andersen’s house with one eye on the rear view mirror. The kids were as anxious and excited as I was to attend one of Grandfather’s banquet dinners, only their excitement was compounded by the fact that they were decked in their very best dress, and their father was conveniently out of town on business for one of his “unexpected emergencies.” Duane gave me a mischievous, toothless grin in the mirror while Michelle sat quietly next to him testing the springiness of her new pinafore dress with her fingers. Lee and Jeff fidgeted next to me in the front seat while trying to slip their new shoes off the back of their feet with their toes. It was going to be a test of patience and covert facial warnings, but we would be in the presence of the most understanding people in the world, and I had faith in their upbringing and knew they would behave — I hoped.

I remember the loving feelings I had when visiting my Grandparents when I was a little girl, and felt fortunate that my children were able and eager to enjoy their love and affection as I did, even if it was only every couple of years or so. Grandfather retired long ago as a very successful developer during the booming Southern California housing industry of the 1940’s and 50’s. He and Grandmother still live in the enormous stone house he built on a hill surrounded by tall pines where they enjoy spending their remaining years entertaining their numerous friends, and those special get-togethers just to spoil us relatives.

We stepped quickly in a light, misty rain along side the cars that lined the circular driveway leading to the entranceway where Grandfather was greeting everyone. “It’s so nice to see you again, Gay,” he said, as he kissed my cheek. I always forget how tall and handsome a man Grandfather is until I hug him. His now white mustache contrasting against his tanned face makes him look even more distinguished than I recall from our last visit. “Don’t tell me this young lady and gentlemen are yours?” he says, beaming down at them. Michelle smiles and curtseys for him while Grandfather gives her an exaggerated bow. The boys each politely shake hands with Grandfather as I start to grin uncontrollably. “Please, all of you go inside where its warm and cozy — Grandmother has arranged something very special and has been waiting anxiously to see you again,” he said, directing us through the tall doorway.

I never knew for sure the enormity of my family until the first time I attended Grandfather’s dinner. The interior was brimming with aunts and uncles, cousins-removed and otherwise, and the offspring of said relatives hooting and hollering about everywhere. After a quick, “you’d better not,” glance at my stalking siblings, we were enthusiastically greeted by Grandmother as she led us toward her huge dining room where remnants of Christmas lingered softly in the air. Grandfather always cut a fresh tree from his woods every year, and insisted on keeping it standing until it was quite ready for the fireplace. The room was tastefully decorated with abundant pickings of local flowers and plants, with a veil of strewn flower peddles encircling the stone hearth. I heard a servant announce dinner in another room causing guests to begin collecting around the long, exquisitely decorated dining-room table laden with floral arrangements, center-pieces, candelabra, glasses, serving dishes, and plates. All were laid out in an orderly fashion still leaving areas of clear white tablecloth visible underneath. Grandmother’s cutlery adorned each place setting as knives and forks made specifically for cheese, fruit, fish, shellfish, salad, melons, ice cream, and cakes were all positioned in their respective places. Little Dutch spoons were laid out crossed as ornaments, surrounding the various ranks of crystal made of distinctive shapes to hold brandy, wine, champagne, sherry, and water. There were roast beef platters, covered meat dishes, salmon dishes, dishes with warmers, numerous sauce dishes, vegetable dishes of various kinds, desert presenters, and champagne buckets placed around the table. Little placards were positioned on top of the serving plates with our names designating our seating positions.

Everyone took their seats, with Michelle, Lee, Jeff, and Duane eagerly climbing onto their chairs at the “children’s” end of the table. As I sat down, I was surprised to feel the chair slide gently underneath me. It was Uncle James, my favorite Uncle, helping me move the heavy wooden chair forward. Of all my relatives, Uncle James was the closest, having been our most frequent baby sitter and close friend during my childhood. It was Uncle James who helped dad build the home in which I grew up, and was there when any of us needed a hand or a comforting shoulder at that time when life seemed to be so intolerable when growing up. We exchanged a brief greeting so as not to seem rude the other guests, knowing I would get the chance to spend all the time I wanted with him later. Uncle James sat directly across from me and Grandfather, of course, sat at the head of the table with Grandmother sitting by his side. No sooner did the conversation start when the servants began to serve the first course; escargots bourguignon, another favorite! The aroma of the dish as it was placed down reminded me of when I was first introduced, or rather dared, by my brother to try snails. It even surprised me, when I bit the little morsel for the first time that I would crave the flavor and texture of something we used to throw against the brick walls in the garden just to hear them crack. The servers tactfully brought little rolled-up slices of roast beef stuffed with cheese for the children, which alleviated any potential comment from the current generation.

I usually attack the little critters with both hands and a fork, but since they were served on a snail plate which has indentations for the shell, and a pair of snail tongs, I thought I’d better set a proper example for the kids, and anyone else, in case they were watching. Snail tongs have a little bowl that opens when the handle is pressed then closes around the snail shell, anchoring it. I eagerly squeezed the snail tong handles together and placed one of the succulent looking shells into it, but just as I reached for my snail fork, and to my horror, the contraption snapped tightly closed, and sent the morsel into a spinning, elliptical orbit high above the dinner table.

As on your deathbed when an entire lifetime replays before you within moments, countless lessons learned from mother and years of studying the ways of proper etiquette, manners, and protocol, all seemed to vaporize before my eyes, as that slurping mess of a snail shell rotating high in the air was about to nullify whatever dignity and social reputation I so far had attained at this stage of my life . . .

Just what is it that makes a person feel so disheartened and impotent in public society, or in the company of friends, when one commits an Epicurean grand faux pas? Perhaps the answer lies in the roots that go so deep and so far back in our culture that we somehow inherit those traits that were so firmly established and accepted by our ancestors when it comes to food. Food means kinship when eaten together, and serves to separate us from the animal kingdom by the way we acquire it and portion it out. Birds, dogs, and other animals carry food home to their young until they are old enough to forage for themselves. Only humans actively and continuously work at portioning out our food. Bread, in western European languages, means food in general, and “breaking bread” with friends becomes the actual bond that unites us.

Table manners are as old as humanity itself, and without them no human society can exist. Food is the great commodity to which we all submit. It can be shared, bartered, and used as a weapon and therefore a test of moral values as well. Food represents a commonality among humans in that no matter how rich or how poor you are, you can only consume so much food. Food is tradition solely because a taste acquired is rarely lost, and the smells and tastes from the past are instantly and vividly recalled when a similar stimulus is encountered. One of the lengthiest novels ever written is “Remembrance of Things Past,” by Marcel Proust. In it he recalls a piece of cake he soaked in tea one day just as it had been the custom in his childhood. He was electrified by a pleasurable sensation that he could not understand. “…so in that moment all the flowers in our garden and in M. Swann’s park, and the water-lilies on the Vivonne and the good folk of the village and their little dwellings, and the parish church and the whole of Cambray and its surroundings, taking shape and solidity, sprang into being, town and gardens alike, from my cup of tea.”

Women have always symbolized the knitting together of families, and were “given away” in marriage, stolen, shared, and used to enhance status. But food, as anthropologist Raymond Firth remarked, has the advantage of being divisible. “Women can be shared but they cannot be divided, whereas food can be almost infinitely portioned out without loss of quality.” His remark is to say, “close to the bone,” wherein lays the idea of cannibalism, and that humans might become food and eaters of each other. Violence is a necessity if any organism is to consume another, and cannibalism is the old taboo regarded as “unthinkable” and therefore barbarous and void of etiquette.

Table manners are politeness where food is concerned, and ancient societies had developed their own forms of etiquette as described by their own cultural inclination. Cannibalism is a symbol in our culture of a total lack of morality, law, and structure, and stands for what is utterly inhuman. Regardless of what we think of as total societal confusion, the fact remains that cannibal societies have existed since time immemorial. As tribal beings cannibals must have had manners, for whatever we believe to the contrary, rules and regulations had always governed their society and behavior. The Aztecs are unique in that they were the only imperialist state we know of with a large population that fully institutionalized cannibalism, and greatly cared how, whom, when, and where they ate people. Every gesture of sacrifice was based upon ritual. A citizen’s portion of meat was based on their status, and its consumption was performed with elaborate care. The Aztecs were terrified of sacrifice carried out in disorder and believed the gods would become violent and descend upon them and eat them as indiscriminately as they consumed their victims. Ritual is an action frequently repeated, laid down in advance in an attempt for others to “get it right.” A meal can be thought of as a ritual since it serves both the appetite and expectations of those present as to what should happen, and notices when it does not.

Ever since mankind began thinking we have concerned ourselves about the differences between us and the animals. Since animals have no culture in a human sense, they are not immune to some of the vulgarities of natural law as we are. It’s interesting to note how twentieth century man has become so preoccupied with “how we are the same as animals,” rather than “how we are different.” In 1953, the differences or similarities started becoming clearer when a year-and-a-half old female ape called Imo impressed her simian friends, and the Japanese scientists watching, by washing her sweet potato in water before she ate it. She repeated the action whenever she ate until other monkeys were soon imitating her. Within four or five years potato washing became the norm among monkeys aged two to seven. All monkeys over five who took up washing potatoes were female. By 1958, a tradition begun as these females passed on potato-washing to their children. A variation occurred when some monkeys preferred dipping their potato into the salt water between each bite apparently savoring the taste, while others simply used the water to wash off the mud. It is interesting to observe that not only do monkeys adapt improvements, but also regale in “getting it right,” even without the preconceived notion of material benefit. By recognizing this behavior, we as humans are reminded of the pleasure we take in reenacting rituals, and the satisfaction we enjoy in performing our daily routines.

Feasts, by way of ritual, utilize the power of food to recall the origins of earlier times. Festival food is richer and more spectacular than the food we usually eat. It is also more traditional and intended to be enjoyed as an ancient custom and ritual celebration. Never in the history of mankind have we eaten as much meat as we now do. The hunting and killing of an animal had only rarely been done, or for special occasions. A feast requires meat, and since a dead animal can no longer give milk or breed, its loss had to be well considered. Festivals and celebrations forced animal owners to stop hoarding their livestock and start enjoying the fruits of their labor. Since meat is perishable, more people had to be called in to help finish a meal with the side benefit of socializing. The New Testament contains numerous stories of dinner parties and feasts. Humility, which Christians consider an aspect of wisdom, is told in a story about a guest who lowers himself instead of competing for the best position at the table, and is rewarded with higher regard. Because of table manners, the elite were more aware of the adjustments in etiquette since the low were asked to move to a higher status and those at top were demoted to a more fitting place. Today, it would be considered rude to take a seat different from what your host offers to you. The host has to make the decisions and the guests must obey because seating is very difficult to get right. It would be considered false humility therefore to upset the host’s seating arrangements.

The old system of dining, a la Francoise, had evolved from the earlier medieval and Renaissance models and was adopted as a dining style in the eighteenth century. Guests would arrive at a table and find it laden with food. Dishes, candles, salts, and ornaments were carefully placed with attention to the hierarchy of food. Order was important because of the crowding at the table, and the entire affair was designed to give the impression of opulence and abundance. The second course began after the dishes from the first course were removed from the table. This made way for the really big pieces, allowing guests to attack a particularly splendid dish, or the “piece de resistance.” A theory for that phrase is that diners had to “resist” eating too much of the lesser dishes and wait for the more spectacular creations to arrive. The dishes were again removed and the last course consisting of cheeses, sweets, pastries, and fruit were set out along with desert plates, knives, forks, and spoons. In Paris in the 1830’s, the Russian Prince Kourakin is credited with first introducing a new way of serving feasts, the ancestor to our own style. Dishes were served in succession instead of all at once. The first course was soup, then the plates were removed and the next course appeared, then the next. Since dessert was the most decorative item in a meal it was sometimes left on the table though out the meal, but it was never eaten until the table had been cleared and swept clear of crumbs.

Table manners evolved from a system of civilized protocols meant to relax and protect people from one another. Guests show up with their own knives as was the custom, and their teeth, formidable weapons as they are, could hardly remain concealed. Belly laughing was forbidden since an open mouth would bare teeth. Erasmus suggested in his treatise on manners, which he wrote in 1530, that “If something so funny should occur that it produces uncontrolled laughter . . . the face should be covered with a napkin or with the hand.” He also wrote, “It is equally impolite to lick greasy fingers or wipe them on one’s tunic. You should wipe them with the napkin or on the tablecloth.” Medieval table napkins were very large and could be draped over the diner’s left arm or shoulder. By the mid-seventeenth century, napkins were used to cover the eater’s front to protect a man’s lace collar that was fashionable at the time. In the early nineteenth century, napkins were about a yard square, and were being placed on the lap. Tying it around the neck or fastening it to a button was a sign of a lower-class upbringing. In our culture, napkins should be kept clean; an unusual requirement considering the purpose for which they were created. The concept being that we do not want to be aware of grease and spills, but only to use it for an inconspicuous dab of the lips. Until the nineteenth century, they were dipped into finger bowls and used at the end of dinner to wipe the lips and chins. The exclusion of this habit is a reminder of why we now carefully cut up our food and place it into our mouths.

During the seventeenth century, manners became a political issue in France when King Louis XIV, along with the nobility of France, created something of a school of manners. The career of the courtiers who lived under the watchful eye of the king in the palace of Versailles depended on their observance or deference of etiquette. If you displeased the king, he would simply not see you, or his gaze would not fall upon you as he surveyed the crowd before him, and not “being seen” by the king was to not exist in Versailles. Since there was no ever-present king to enforce these standards outside the palace, the bourgeoisie were even more demanding than the nobility regarding the rules of civility and imposed limitations on themselves. Their ambitions to rise meant they had more to lose by making mistakes, so their self-governed manners had to be more deep rooted.

Since table manners are insistently drilled into us at an early age, we act impulsively once we have matured and expect everyone else to act in a similar manner. We also tend to enjoy hearing about people that behave indifferently, or seem to have no idea how to behave at all. They remind us that manners are not natural at all, but second nature, and the absence of proper behavior is an indication that they lack good breeding. Contemplating other people’s odd behavior seems to be a dwindling past time with the modernization of communications. One has to look hard now for shocking manners not because we have seen them before, but because there are fewer examples to see. “Manners have changed,” more than one person has said over the centuries, but it may take centuries for people to accept or follow suit of something different. It took eight centuries for the fork to become a universally accepted utensil for dining in the West after the appearance of the first document describing its use. The first modern fork is mentioned as having been used in the eleventh century by the wife of the Venetian Doge, Domenico Selvo. Forks were mentioned again three centuries later, in 1361, in a list of the plate owned by the Florentine Commune. The use of individual forks became wide spread in the seventeenth century. People often would share forks with others as they would spoons after wiping them off with their napkins before passing them on. It was also during the seventeenth century that hard plates and individual knives and forks were provided for each diner at the table.

Prior to that, at medieval banquets, plates had been “trenchers’ or slices of bread used to hold food taken by hand from a serving dish, or for sopping up gravy or dripping sauces. The earliest version of our flat plates are depicted in a buffet on a fresco of the Palazzo del Te at Mantua, which dates from about 1525, and were made of metal. Ceramic plates were common in France by the end of the seventeenth century. By the beginning of the nineteenth century, North Americans were replacing their wooden trenchers with pewter and china dishes, and the use of forks was spreading. The spoon is the safest member of the cutlery set, and the easiest to use. Babies start with spoons, and it is the implement with the most versatility. A spoon is a bowl with an arm attached, reminiscent of a human hand. Every race and culture on earth has made spoons out of whatever material was available to them. The flat spoons made by some North American Indians were so large they could be used as plates. For a hundred years it was forbidden to leave tea spoons in tea cups. “Never,” says “Andreani’s French guide to etiquette” (1988), “leave your coffee spoon in your cup when you lift it to your lips.”

There has never been a shortage of advice on etiquette available in literature for those wishing to improve themselves and their standing. Sociologist Norbert Elias claims that from 1530, when Erasmus published “De civilitate morum puerilium” (On the Civility of the Behavior of Boys), significant changes began in our history. Bodily functions in public, belching, spitting, etc., became less and less common, even to the extent of being banned in polite society. The intriguing point about this is that people obeyed these rules not because of their consciences, but because they were convinced it was that way it’s done. Civilized people acted like this, those not participating were showing how uncivilized they were.

As the bourgeoisie became wealthier and more affluent in court, they were given self-appointed experts to write manuals for them on how to behave as people did in “the best circles.” In 1672, Antoine de Courtin penned “Nouveau traite de la civilite qui se pratique en France parmi les bonnestes gens” (The New Treatise of the Civility Which is Practiced in France Among Honest People). In it he advises how the bourgeoisie should address the nobility, and how to perform as hosts and guests. The Church in France produced handbooks on manners and taught their principles in schools. Eventually gentility spread from the court to the bourgeoisie and down to the general public. Even before Louis XIV, French aristocrats adopted the advise contained in the Italian Renaissance treatises such as “Il Libro del Cortegiano” (The Book of the Courtier) by Baldassare Castiglione (published two years before Erasmus’s “De civilitate”), “The Galateo” (Etiquette) by Giovanni della Casa (1558), and “La Civil Conversazione” (The Civil Conversation) by Stephano Guazzo (1574). These were more philosophical, ethical, and political in nature than books on manners, and were addressed to aristocrats only, although they soon became more widely read and adapted.

China’s three great works on ceremony, “Tcheou-Li,” “I Li,” and “Li Chi,” were written between the second century B.C. and the first century A.D., from much older sources. The “Li Chi” in particular has specific sections on table manners. Teaching children manners by way of riddles and stories have been done for millennia. Hesiod advised about 2,700 years ago, “At the abundant dinner of the gods, do not sever with bright steel the withered from the quick upon that which has five branches.” Meaning, “Fingernails are not to be cut at the table.” Didactic poetry has existed since the time of Ptah-Hotep’s “Instructions,” written for his son which date to about 200 B.C. but were copied from another book 500 years before. A whole new generation of manners books arrived in the twentieth century. Emily Post’s “Etiquette in Society, in Business, in Politics, and at Home,” appeared in 1922. She was careful to remind her readers of the tradition of civility by writing, “Best Society is not a fellowship of the wealthy, nor does it seek to exclude those who are not of exalted birth. It is an association of gentlefolk, of which good form in speech, charm of manner, knowledge of the social amenities, and instinctive consideration for the feelings of others, are credentials by which society the world over recognizes its chosen members.” When her book was written, she thought it would be purchased by the upper class, but it wasn’t true; they didn’t need it.

. . . I doubt all the books on manners and etiquette in the world could have helped me at this moment as I watch that snail descend with astonishment. The best I could hope for was an unnoticed plop into someone’s wine glass, or a muffled landing inside one of Grandmother’s bountiful arrangements placed around the table. I closed my eyes and waited for the scream or gasp that would soon end my spotless reputation as a welcome guest, and turn me into an object of chatter and gossip, and the subject of countless long distance phone calls among the relatives. I breathlessly waited, my mind swimming in a dark gloomy pool of self-guilt, until I felt someone brushing up against my arm. I opened my eyes, expecting an irate guest standing there staring down at me with a snail shell stuck to his or her forehead. Instead, it was a servant, calmly pouring my class full of champagne. I gave him a quick smile and a nod, and then surveyed the expressions on the people’s faces near my end of the table. Nothing was unusual; no panic, no sprinting toward the door, no fainting as in that silly commercial on TV when the matron of the house is asked to “pass the jelly.” Just everyone happily enjoying their food while chit-chatting around the table. Even the kids were emerged in a game of trying to see who could make the other laugh by making funny faces. Did I just imagine my dinner plate had turned into a Cape Canaveral launching pad for gastropod astronauts?

I felt my guilt slowly waning as I reached for my glass to take a sip of champagne, until I noticed a rather stealthy grin on Uncle James’ face. He looked up as if searching for something on the ceiling, then looked me square in the eyes as he dabbed his lips with his napkin. I watched as he inconspicuously rolled-up the napkin into a small ball and casually placed it into his coat pocket. He then smiled and turned toward one of my aunts who had leaned over to speak to him. I looked down at my dinner plate with the guilt of a five-year-old and could see my crimson reflection in Grandmother’s bone china. When I looked up again, Uncle James was holding up his champagne glass in a private toast to me. I felt a very familiar warm glow inside as the twinkle in his eyes told me everything was alright in the same way he had done so many years before. I raised my glass and toasted to Uncle James. My favorite Uncle.

Bibliography

Claiborne, C. Elements of Etiquette: A Guide to Table Manners in an Imperfect World, New York: William Morrow and Company, Inc., 1992.

Giblin, J. From Hand to Mouth: Or, How We Invented Knives, Forks, Spoons, and Chopsticks & the Table Manners To Go With Them, New York: HarperCollins, 1987

Martin, J. Miss Manners Guide to Excruciatingly Correct Behavior: The Ultimate Handbook on Modern Etiquette, New York: Galahad Books, 1991.

Martine, A. Martine’s Hand-Book of Etiquette and Guide to True Politeness, New York: Dick & Fitzgerald, c1866.

Visser, M. The Rituals of Dinner: the Origins, Evolution, Eccentricities, and Meaning of Table Manners, New York: Penguin Books, 1991.

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