Say no and you're a killjoy. But say yes and you've given the entire table the go-ahead to share your sirloin. I just want to enjoy my own dinner. All of it. I don't like to share my food. Is that so terrible?
In an effort to fit as many people as possible into an oftentimes small space, restaurants oftentimes seat parties so close to each other that there's high potential for that one inconsiderate banquette-mate to spoil a meal for everyone.
Though I'm not for expelling children from decidedly mature European playgrounds, I am in favor of kid-free dining. What is one family's easily ignorable background chatter (ie: kids being kids) is another's theater of the absurd.
New Year's Eve is almost here, and many of us will be in charge of heralding in the New Year with a compulsory toast. Before you spend one more moment of time worrying about how you'll propose a toast, follow these tips and start the New Year off on the right foot.
Nope, I'm not writing about military service. I have come to strongly believe that we would, in fact, live in a better, kinder world if every teenager took a job in the service industry before entering adulthood.
I envisioned love interests in their distant futures saying, "He seemed nice, but the way he ate grossed me out," or future co-workers always "too busy" to grab lunch. So that's how my 11-year-old ended up wearing a suit and tie and attending a monthly etiquette class.
While finger bowls may be a thing of the past, they do exist in many private clubs across the country and are still served at some formal dinners, so it's good to know how to use one. Plus, you may want to serve them after some casual dinners yourself.
Have you ever gone to a restaurant hoping for a quiet, relaxing dining experience only to find that the table next to you is the temporary playground for a couple of rowdy kids and two stressed-out parents?
The terms "white meat" and "dark meat" are used so commonly today that most people forget that they started out as euphemisms, popularized by our Victorian ancestors, who shied away from uttering the dreaded word breast.