I very well know there are other more pressing things to talk about, so forgive me this digression. As soon as I’m done, you can resume watching today’s episode of As World the Burns.

So, let me begin with something that happened to me about a month ago at Peterson Bros. 1111, a Tacoma pub that the pop-rock band Encumclaw highly recommends. After completing a sandwich called The Brutus (deli meat, thick and grilled), I noticed something odd in the corner of my eye. On the table next to the one I shared with my partner sat three women who were clearly old friends (all were in their early 60s; all in clothes that make the transition from the middle years to the autumn ones comfortable); two were sharing gossip about someone who recently returned to the City of Destiny after a mysterious five-year absence; one was silent and staring at me.

I looked around me to see if something was the matter, but nothing was amiss. My zipper was up. I wasn’t bleeding. Nothing seedy on my phone’s screen. But her eyes remained glued on me. And I kept wondering if something very bad had or was about to happen to me. Then she cracked, leaned toward my table, and said: “I hope you do not mind me asking, but are you going to eat that pickle on your plate?”

I noticed the speared pickle for the first time. It sat at the edge of my plate with a view of its crumbs and the bits of meat that escaped The Brutus. I had no plan to eat it, and so happily offered it to her. And she beamed with joy as she claimed and devoured it. A moment later, her attention was focused on the gossip: Where did that person go? Does anyone know?

While returning to Seattle, I gave what happened at the Peterson Bros. 1111 some thought: Why was it so hard for the stranger to ask for my pickle? Because, in a restaurant, the convention (if not the rule) is to throw what remains on your plate into the trash (even if it’s a heap of untouched fries). You paid for it, you own it, and you are only permitted to do one of two things with it: eat or have the food tossed into a bin. There’s also the idea that eating what’s left on a stranger’s plate is unbecoming and even disgusting. What if the stranger is sick, or has not washed their hands. Do you want to eat all of those unknowns? Better to play it safe and buy your own pickle.

But on close examination we find that the convention (“it’s yours!”) often leads to waste that’s characteristic of an economic system that’s destroying the very environment that made human life possible. As for the yuck factor, no one questions or is revolted by the convention of sharing leftover food with family members or friends. Also we make out with strangers all of the time. Recall this erotic passage from James Joyce’s Ulysses: “Ravished over her I lay, full lips full open, kissed her mouth. Yum. Softly she gave me in my mouth the seedcake warm and chewed. Mawkish pulp her mouth had mumbled sweet and sour with spittle. Joy: I ate it: joy.” Something like this happened to many of you last Friday night, and there was nothing yucky about it.

Now let’s jump forward to Friday, October 26. After a quick drink, I’m walking out of the cosy Stars Brass Works Lounge (great basic burgers, great mix of music, great bartenders) in Georgetown. Near the door, however, something catches the corner of my eye: a few abandoned tater tots in a red checkered basket liner. My instinct is to grab one or two and pop them into my mouth. But I can’t. I lack the will to break the convention. I’ll look like a madman to anyone who catches me in the act. What’s wrong with that guy? Does he also pick up and smoke discarded cigarette butts? I leave the lounge with a sense of embarrassment—maybe someone noticed my hesitation and determined exactly what was on my mind. 

But if you give it some thought, it will not be that hard to imagine a restaurant that breaks with this irrational convention by simply stating, on its menu, that along with what one orders, one is free to eat what’s left on another person’s plate—or to offer what’s left on yours to someone else. But such an establishment, as reasonable as it might be, is likely never to leave that continuously frustrated region of our dreams called Utopia.

Now back to the news of a world that can only be described as dystopian.

Charles Mudede—who writes about film, books, music, and his life in Rhodesia, Zimbabwe, the USA, and the UK for The Stranger—was born near a steel plant in Kwe Kwe, Zimbabwe. He has no memory...

9 replies on ““Are You Going to Eat That Pickle on Your Plate?””

  1. Charles, the simple answer are county and state food safety regulations as to why restaurants typically don’t encourage diners to pick food / leftovers from another’s plate, basket, etc.

    Nothing stopping individuals from deciding to share whatever (as in your pickle case) but I would recommend caution with your tot scenario unless you know why / how they are there (example, if say I dropped something on the floor, I will pick it up at the end of my meal).

    Aside, did someone from King County Health wrong TS? You all seem to be full libertarian on food safety lately (and aside, Portland has an awesome food truck scene that’s completely in compliance with city and county regs).

  2. This was great. A few years ago a friend and I were out for burgers and drinks following an exhausting mountain bike ride down here in Portland. We both devoured our sandwich and fries, and then my friend noticed a woman next to him getting up to leave with some fries left on her plate, and he just casually as fuck asked if he could have them. She obliged without hesitation and I marveled with envy at his gall and confidence. I couldn’t do that, and the reasons for that self-conscious insecurity are entirely on me. Had the woman said no he wouldn’t have given a shit, nor would I, and we’d have just gone on about talking about the ride and enjoying one another’s company. We as a society should absolutely destigmatize the awkwardness that surrounds these types of encounters, though we won’t.

  3. I will absolutely ask any of my family members for food off their plates. I don’t have the guts to ask anyone else for the same. I admire people who can cross that simple line.

  4. mine eyes were Opened

    in either Swedish or Virginia

    Mason’s cafeteria’s tray-depositing

    situation when a young man came in

    the exiting area, spied an unfinished sammy

    examined it stuck it his jacket pocket turned & left

    hungry enough to risk discarded hospital cafeteria food

    I wondered if I’d ever find myself

    doing the same and so far

    have been Fortunate.

    @2 & 3

    if Cadet Bonespurs

    gets His way, Many of

    us’ll Soon lose our Bashfulness

    or go to bed Hungry

    and then

    there’s all

    those Children

    @Mike

    yeah this

    Was pretty Great

  6. The real issue in my opinion is that restaurants and delis and grocery stores aren’t allowed to give away uneaten food at the end of the night. I worked at a grocery store and every night we had to dump pounds and pounds of deli food (some of it pretty freshly made) into the trash bin every night. We weren’t allowed to give it to employees or customers and we definitely weren’t allowed to give it to homeless people. One time someone ordered 14 pizzas for a party and never came to pick them up. Into the trash they went. I asked if we could at least just take them to the breakroom to let the night crew and bag boys graze off of it and was told it was against the law.

    But anyway…

    Yes, I’m going to eat my pickle.

  7. @6 I think your employer misunderstood the law, especially regarding the pizzas. There’s no imaginable reason why untouched, properly prepared and/or stored food that’s deemed fit for customer consumption has to be discarded rather than donated, eaten or taken home by staff.

  8. Eating food off another person’s plate is a somewhat “intimate” act. If you don’t believe me, next time you are dining with someone you don’t particularly like (at a work function, perhaps) imagine taking food from that person’s plate. Many of us would decline doing so.

    Here we are, living in a world where strangers are loath to talk to one another, and no one has minimal social skills….

    Yeah, I don’t see people sharing food off their plates or others asking anytime soon. I can also imagine people drilling the person with the excess food about their political leanings – does anyone actually believe a hard-core progressive type would eat food off the plate of a person with conservative values?

    It would be a shit show – yet entertaining!

  9. You moronic libprogs demanded that people show “vaccine passports” to enter restaurants and made restaurants build stupid useless outdoor structures for people to eat in, and later demanded that those same useless outdoor structures be torn down or the restaurant would face fines. Shut the fuck up

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