FRIED CLAMS

I must be getting old: I remember when “All You Can Eat” at a restaurant was a good thing. I guess it was when my kids were little. Being a teacher, we were all on the same calendar and could travel over the Christmas holidays. The long drive to Kansas City usually put us in St. Louis at dinner time. This would have been the late 1970’s. The Buffet was just off the Inter-state: people lined up at one of many serving stations while food went by on a conveyer belt. The food pans came out, made a big 180 degree arc around the serving stations and back into the kitchen, a lot like baggage pick up at the air port. The good stuff might be all gone when the pan reached people at the far end of the conveyer. My twin boys were probably 7 or 8, they had discovered deep fried clams and couldn’t get enough. Our deal was, take what you want, all you want but eat all you take. On their 2nd or 3rd trip to the serving line, a lady in the next spot down stream obviously wanted clams too but my boys cleaned out the pan before it got to her. She didn’t scream but she did stomp her feet. She didn’t go home hungry but she wasn’t happy either. It was a good lesson; all you can eat buffets are civil on principle but serving line protocol is tooth and claw. 

In the new century I am more inclined to just want what I want rather than all I can eat. You grow, you learn, your metabolism changes and it’s just food. I know; it can taste good and the act of eating with your friends is ritual that began with our tree-climbing ancestors. Old habits are hard to break. I don’t know if it was a great discovery or if I brain-washed myself. Either way, food is not my friend. I need some on a regular basis but slightly hungry feels better now than slightly full. I still like buffets as I can create combinations that are not on a menu and can see the food before I decide. One of my twins took me to a Chinese place recently. He helped himself to sushi while I worked on ginger-green-beans and shrimp. Hanging out with my kids is great, sharing a meal is even better; not for the food but realizing they survived their youth, remember their manners and we still like each other. He went back for seconds on the sushi but I passed. One plate was enough. Next time will be my turn; I’ll take him Mediterranean for falafel, humus and lentil soup.