No, I am not done

A pet peeve I define as something that disproportionately bothers, beyond what should be expected. For me I get frustrated, when at a restaurant and overly aggressive staff continuously attempts to quickly end a dinner by pulling our plates from the table while we are not even close to being done with the meal.????

One of the most enjoyable celebrations?? for me is a dinner with family or friends. Perhaps a bit Epicurean but my goal is to try and make each dinner a celebration.?

For me the food is secondary to the occurrence. I look forward to the concluding meal of the day because it is a moment of reprieve, time to catch a breath, reflect, share and laugh. Like most surgeons I am an intermittent faster by necessity, not by design and have been for 20 years. Not because of any fad but because as surgeons we trained our bodies to not eat lunch. During residency there simply was no time to eat. We were not permitted nor wanted to leave the operating room.?

As we evolved into attendings ????with our own practices, lunch breaks remain a rarity and on the occasion in which I do eat a lunch it wipes me out, makes me feel sluggish. So I typically run on coffee and Vitamin water all day perfectly prepped for an anticipated triumphant dinner with those I love or enjoy. Couple this with my Moroccan/European background where large family meals were a weekly tradition. My aunts would cook a feast that always included multiple salads, breads, a fish, chicken and meat dish. Each dish escorted in individually as it was delivered to the eager audience like a bride on a wedding night. But here is the thing… when the next course came it didn’t displace the prior serving rather it was just added. The table grew as did the conversation debate, stories, and volume.?

I would listen to my uncles, aunts and invited elders discuss everything from business to health religion, politics and community.??I learned more science, commerce, philosophy and life at that table than all my schooling combined.?

Kids would come and go, over and under the table, a loud voice ballad accented by the occasional crescendo of paired voices, dampened by subtle sounds of food passing, soups spilling and wine overflowing.??I swear there was a rhythm to the chaos. A melody that elevated and enveloped the whole room. The colorful meal and its frame of spicy characters became a mosaic of foods, flavors languages and idea that left an indelible painting on the collective conscious of all those who partook. And when the curtain came down and the meal was complete, we didn’t just appease our appetites we satiated our souls.

There were no TV’s, cell phones, or ipads to distract. Rather there was just the amalgamation of passions descending through generations of entangled epigenetics. We left dinner consciously full, thicker in purpose and heavier in humility.??

The dinners?? I grew up with are becoming increasingly rare in the US today. Times, pressures and attractions are different. Kids and parents, often hypnotic to their phones, TV’s blaring in the background, and the family rushing to an organized event as they shovel in the feed from Styrofoam troughs with plastic utensils. ??

There is no surprise that the restaurants today, incentivized to turn a table are not met with any resistance as they quickly clear half eaten plates from under the forks and knives of the modern family who are already pushing to get out.??Perhaps I am old fashion but I can happily say my desire for romanticized dinner experiences are still fulfilled in most European countries where I find dinner to still be a celebration. It is not uncommon to have an extended meal with great conversation and fantastic food while on the road and it is still one of my favorite things to do.???

So if you are having dinner with me and see me getting disappointed when staff grabs my plate without consent, forgive me. It just means I am enthralled in the conversation and wanting to further celebrate our time together.?