Eating With A Knife

1895

The Puritans Were Not Up In the Science of Living Well.

I wouldn't have knives supplied with pie, beans or blueberries. As I have before remarked, the table knife is the great American instrument of death, and the American is slowly but surely carving his own tombstone, and until Americans learn to dispense with the table knife in conveying provisions to the bazoo they are a declining race. Ages hence the future man as he stands in some ancient city — one of the cities of today — recently unearthed, as Pompeii and Herculaeneum have been excavated, will view with astonishment the rusty table knives and wonder to what manner of people we belonged.

And who can blame him? I have seen a man of sound standing in the community eat blueberries with a knife, and he succeeded almost beyond belief of any except eyewitnesses. It beats "pigs in clover" all out. The idea seemed to be to get half a dozen blueberries on the knife, and as it was lifted toward the mouth and the berries began to roll toward the handle to get them in line, rolling back again and into the tunnel before any of them fell off. It was a great trick.

To be able to eat skillfully with a knife is a sure sign of Puritan ancestry. The quick lunch restaurant is the preparatory institution to the tomb. Every person must build the abode of his own soul by eating, and most men do it as though they had a contract job on hand.

If you wish to see people eat in an ideal manner, go into an Italian restaurant on North street. There may be dirt on the floor and dust on the windows, but the food is good, and the leisurely subjects of Humbert know how to eat. They appear to derive fully as much satisfaction from looking at their food and fondly regarding it as from eating it. They eat leisurely and enjoy it.

Not so in the average down town restaurant. The man of business or the clerk comes in. He orders from the "time table," he chafes until he gets it, then he swiftly and skillfully arranges each dish around his plate in such a manner as to lose as little time as possible, ties his napkin around his neck so the ends of the knot stick up behind his head like a mule's ears, takes his knife in one hand and the fork in the other, casts a determined look around him, and then knife and fork begin to play back and forth from his plate to his mouth, and the only wonder is that they don't clash on the way. — Boston Courier.