On the Subject of Communal Restaurant Tables, Do as the Italians Do

A recent Guardian UK article tackled the subject of communal dining in public restaurants and, as is the custom today, delivered it up as a controversy between Gen Z and Boomers. Which, like so many cases of the current comparison of generational dives off the deep end, is beside the point.

Some of us like dining with strangers, others don’t. End of subject.

And yet, why must we ordinary folk be continually reminded of our differences rather than our similarities? Before casting your opinion into this mish-mash of controversy, have you ever eaten with strangers? It makes a difference.

Back in the day (read that as forty years ago, long before social media divided us into economic modules), my then wife and I were driving across Europe on holiday.

Italy changed a great many of our commonly held prejudices, dining among them.

Traveling abroad will do that, reminding us of our former heritage as immigrants to America, perhaps the only nation in the world where all citizens are (or were) immigrants. English was not quite so widely spoken in the Europe of the eighties, which added to the charm and ‘otherness’ of traveling there.

Mark Twain, who was particularly fond of Italy, once said, “...nothing so liberalizes a man and expands the kindly instincts that nature put in him as travel and contact with many kinds of people.” I would add that dining in their company, close company, makes that contact almost as intimate as sharing a bed.

We were first entertained by that prospect at an overcrowded restaurant.

Told that, unfortunately, they were ‘fully booked,’ I turned on my natural charms and informed the kind lady in charge of seating that we had ‘traveled all the way from Chicago just to experience her outstanding cuisine.’

She had my number.

“You are so very kind, but fully booked is fully booked. Would you like a reservation for tomorrow, perhaps?” We would, indeed, failing to understand that the reserved accommodation would be cheek to jowl among strangers at a table for twelve.

It was a wonderfully orchestrated riot. Several spoke a bit of English and there was much passing of a nibble of this and that from one another’s plates, and half-glasses of various wines. We became family for a time, and there were copious hugs upon our departure several hours later. My then wife will remember it differently, as is her habit yet today. We remain the closest of friends, but she never fails to shape my memories differently, particularly in company.

There are those who will understand.

Another opportunity presented itself more recently on a trip to Vienna.

My current wife and I fairly frequently attend the art museum there, as it features artists a bit upscale from Prague, and its an easy 5 hour train from center to center.

There is a major café close by and stopping for a late lunch, Misha having gone down for Michaelangelo, and me up for Picasso, it was a bit jammed. A line of twenty two-tops offered a spot for us and we wriggled in, elbow to elbow. Not as close as cheek to jowl, and no sharing of food, but conversations easily overheard.

Next to us sat a man in his late forties and his mother, in the early stages of a trip to Europe, that included a week in Prague. My wife and I live there, she a native and me a 32 year resident. English speakers tend to find common ground in foreign countries, and a conversation ensued.

In the ‘where are you from’ stage, the mother replied that she was from a small town in Illinois we would never have heard of. On further inquiry, that town happened to be Evanston, where I was born and raised to my early twenties, my brother a Northwestern University graduate. Decades of reminiscences later, the four of us fairly glowed in our newfound commonality.

These are the pleasures of happenstance engagements at meals and, as it turns out, is far more commonplace in Europe than America.

Do you suppose we Yanks are less willing to share our heritage? Shy about revealing our German, French or Italian origins? We are, in fact, an island nation, separated from the rest of the world by our two vast oceans.

If over shy, we left a valuable trait behind, the experience of closeness and comradery that I find so charming about much of Europe.