I kind of don’t like restaurants anymore.
Well I never really liked them. Wine lists intimidate me, waiters annoy me and the white table cloths just straight up humiliate me as I spill everything and anything onto the immaculately clean surface.
In my teens my mum made me watch a movie on dinner party etiquette to ensure I would behave like a real lady in any fine dining situation. This VHS gem from the 70's explained everything from sipping soup to buttering bread, and the only thing I managed to retain was the placement of knives and forks. You use the cutlery from the outside in.
Now, as soon as I’m seated I seem to regress into a childlike state. I remember once as I was passionately delivering a story to a table of friends, gesturing wildly like us Italians do, a waiter pulled me aside and advised me to sit on my hands while I was talking to avoid any accidents. Low point.
I hate the awkwardness of it all; I never know whether to continue conversation while the waiter is in earshot, so end up trying to include them in our chat like an actual crazy person. I get embarrassed when asked to taste wine, and have to Google fancy ingredients on a regular basis.
Luckily, my late twenties have become about dining with friends in the comfort of our collective homes and this suits me just fine.
Firstly, you can eat what you want when you want. My friendship group is full of great cooks with fine taste, who deliver delicious, nutritious spreads. I appreciate their cooking far more than any fancy pants degustation shit. Anyone with allergies can bring their own bespoke dish to enjoy at their leisure and not feel like an imposition to a restaurant team. Moreover if you do have an allergic reaction, or just eat too much cheese for your lactose intolerant belly to handle (like me), you can hover over a friend’s toilet free from judgement and let that shit out, literally.
We can also drink delicious wine with no exorbitant restaurant mark up. Or consume custom cocktails if someone is feeling creative. And if the alcohol goes to your head and you feel worse for wear, you can have a little nap in your besties boudoir and re-join the party when the room has stopped spinning.
At our age we’re all a bit skint, saving for something big; babies, cars, houses or holidays, and eating at home is a lot cheaper. Plus food from friends is full of love, doesn’t matter if you’re eating shithouse sausages or succulent sirloin, innate comfort and an uninterrupted flow of stimulating conversation is utterly choice.
Humble hangouts over extravagant eateries any day.
