14th June
A Fruit Day becoming a Root Day 1900
On sharing plates….
I am not alone in being part of the campaign for the dissolution of sharing plates. Protests may not be yet parading towards parliaments, angry debates may not be filling television, though they are doubtlessly taking their share of social media rants, but there is a not insignificant share of the populace crying: “up with this we will not put”. The eating houses, guilty as charged, will cry: “where’s the problem, haven’t you heard of Tapas? People have been doing this for decades, if not centuries.”
They have a point. Tapas is a great thing. Tapas, when done properly, is a social good as well as a positive nutritional contributor. I understand that there may be groups of octopus who dissent, anchovies who’d rather stay swimming, but Tapas works. So, what’s the difference?
The difference is social. A group of people gather for Tapas. Maybe four or five, leaning over a table, engaged in vigorous discussion: jokes, raucous comment, the occasional political non sequitur, and serious exchange of ideas. Amongst the limb waving and laughter, people will grab a bite here and there, drink a sip of wine, or sherry; the process is socially, intellectually and nutritionally enriching. After an hour or so, enough food has been consumed: snacked upon, and wine drunk, to prepare for the serious purpose of dinner. The event is about sharing, but the plates aren’t the hub of that sharing, they are simply the accompaniment of the main social purpose, as is the wine.
But what happens when we take this formula and remove the social activity? We sit glumly, talking about something inconsequential with a partner, food arrives and we eat it; not over an hour but over ten minutes or less. Another plate shows up and we do the same. By the time we’ve worked through the six plates recommended, we’ve eaten too much, drunk too much, both of which please the restaurant, but we haven’t had a great night. That’s the difference between sharing plates and Tapas. Even when it’s a larger group sharing, the dynamic is not dissimilar, we just add the anxiety that we won’t get our fair share of the courses we wanted to eat.
Now I want to turn to wine. That dynamic in the Tapas bar is very close to the historic role of wine from a sociological viewpoint. We gather round a table. Bottles, glasses appear. The conversation blossoms, laughter rings out. Probably, at some point, some food enters the equation. But on thinking back, it wasn’t the wine or the food that counted, it was the bond and the bonding with one’s tribe. Wine isn’t about getting smashed alone, it’s about a social ritual of sharing; ideas, jokes, frustrations, recollections, and wine is the glue.
How does that play out in a world of doomscrolling and angry social media rants? I hear people worrying about whether wine will be less relevant for the generations of the future. I think they will need it more than ever. Not for its chemical effect, but as a social catalyst. I don’t need to spend the evening pondering a great wine, I’d rather enjoy the laughter… terrific if the wine is really good, that can add to it, but it isn’t the purpose: the tribe needs to gather and connect and wine can be the campfire that forms the centre of the gathering.
Cheers Nigel..
14th June
A Fruit Day becoming a Root Day 1900
On sharing plates….
I am not alone in being part of the campaign for the dissolution of sharing plates. Protests may not be yet parading towards parliaments, angry debates may not be filling television, though they are doubtlessly taking their share of social media rants, but there is a not insignificant share of the populace crying: “up with this we will not put”. The eating houses, guilty as charged, will cry: “where’s the problem, haven’t you heard of Tapas? People have been doing this for decades, if not centuries.”
They have a point. Tapas is a great thing. Tapas, when done properly, is a social good as well as a positive nutritional contributor. I understand that there may be groups of octopus who dissent, anchovies who’d rather stay swimming, but Tapas works. So, what’s the difference?
The difference is social. A group of people gather for Tapas. Maybe four or five, leaning over a table, engaged in vigorous discussion: jokes, raucous comment, the occasional political non sequitur, and serious exchange of ideas. Amongst the limb waving and laughter, people will grab a bite here and there, drink a sip of wine, or sherry; the process is socially, intellectually and nutritionally enriching. After an hour or so, enough food has been consumed: snacked upon, and wine drunk, to prepare for the serious purpose of dinner. The event is about sharing, but the plates aren’t the hub of that sharing, they are simply the accompaniment of the main social purpose, as is the wine.
But what happens when we take this formula and remove the social activity? We sit glumly, talking about something inconsequential with a partner, food arrives and we eat it; not over an hour but over ten minutes or less. Another plate shows up and we do the same. By the time we’ve worked through the six plates recommended, we’ve eaten too much, drunk too much, both of which please the restaurant, but we haven’t had a great night. That’s the difference between sharing plates and Tapas. Even when it’s a larger group sharing, the dynamic is not dissimilar, we just add the anxiety that we won’t get our fair share of the courses we wanted to eat.
Now I want to turn to wine. That dynamic in the Tapas bar is very close to the historic role of wine from a sociological viewpoint. We gather round a table. Bottles, glasses appear. The conversation blossoms, laughter rings out. Probably, at some point, some food enters the equation. But on thinking back, it wasn’t the wine or the food that counted, it was the bond and the bonding with one’s tribe. Wine isn’t about getting smashed alone, it’s about a social ritual of sharing; ideas, jokes, frustrations, recollections, and wine is the glue.
How does that play out in a world of doomscrolling and angry social media rants? I hear people worrying about whether wine will be less relevant for the generations of the future. I think they will need it more than ever. Not for its chemical effect, but as a social catalyst. I don’t need to spend the evening pondering a great wine, I’d rather enjoy the laughter… terrific if the wine is really good, that can add to it, but it isn’t the purpose: the tribe needs to gather and connect and wine can be the campfire that forms the centre of the gathering.
Cheers Nigel..