"Like animals we are, eating this way. But with lamb chops.. What can we do?" (This, all in French of course).
He was referring to the fact that rather than eating properly, using forks and knives, he had to grab the lamb bone with his fingers and directly eat the meat, dare I say, with his bare hands!
"At least we do not have company," la grand-mère sighs with relief.
This is a culture that uses utensils for literally everything: pizza with fork and knife; French fries by means of fork and knife; ice cream in a cone... eaten with a spoon no doubt. Only slobs bite straight into a slice of melon; we all know it's more practical to first slice off the skin, then delicately cut it into bite size portions to then nibble with silverware. And I hate to be obvious, but coke can NEVER be consumed straight from the can... that's what tall glassware was created for, you unsophisticated schmucks!
Not to mention the extensiveness of table assembly when it comes to platter. A family of three needs to run the dishwasher after every meal in order to keep up with proper feasting etiquette. A mini glass for l'aperitif (a pre-meal shot of booze), alongside two glasses, one for wine, the other for water (and possibly a third if you're toasting with champagne). A bowl for soup, a plate for les éntres (appetizers) and salads, a separate for the plat (the meal) plus another for dessert. There is the cuillère de soupe (soup spoon) followed by the salad fork, the meal fork, the knife to cut the steak, the knife to slice the cheese, a spoon for dessert, and finally a cuillère de café to stir the sugar in your espresso shot. This is on top of the casserole dishes and salad bowls and bread baskets and serving spoons and pots and pans placed a center to dish out family style. It is one individual's role to get up and clear each set of plates and utensils while the others sit around and emerse in a two hour occasion of palatable pleasantries. Followed by a well-deserved two hour nap.
Believe me, adapting to these strenuous table manners is no easy task, especially when coming from a KFC-ridden suburb best known for having a Medieval Times. Then again, once you've grown accustomed to slicing up fries into cute little pieces, even a rendezvous to Mickey D's becomes a grandiose affair.
