and no talking 'cept during the commercials!

it all boils down to a class thing:

upperclass people never eat ribs.

no! ribs are disgusting! all that gnawing on the bone . . . far too atavistic!

:headshake

When I was a kid, my parents were pretty strict about meal times. There were no elbows on the table (a rule I enforce with my own children) along with chew with your mouth closed. Don't talk with food in your mouth. You must eat everything on your plate even if it takes all night. There'd be no tv during dinner. Dinner was for talking about the days events and exchanging information. My brother and I were responsible for clearing the table and washing and drying the dishes. Mum used to come in later and put them away. Mostly Mum served our meals onto plates and then we'd all sit down together. On the weekends, we'd all have lunch together also. Mum would put out all the things she had for us in the way of salad stuff and condiments and then we'd make our own sandwiches. After that Mum would clear up and then I'd help her prepare dinner for whoever it was that happened to be joining us for dinner that night. Usually one of the other family groups from our extended family, but sometimes their 'card' friends.

I liked my parents rules for meal times. I've recently been thinking I should reinstate a few of them such as the no tv one. We have far too many meals where we all sit and watch telly instead of talking to each other. I also like the no elbows on the table rule, mostly because it does take up space which lots of times we don't have when we have family with us.

Oh...another one was keep your elbows tucked in. Again, to create space.

Case, I'm with you about the mouth noises. I can't stand them.

Ribs were only eaten at picnics at the National Forest or the summer lake house vacation on Green Lake, WI.

Pretty much. Unless we're eating with just a fork....or a fork and spoon. I tend to use a knife and fork if there's anything to cut and just a fork if there isn't. If eating at the table I use a knife and fork in the way you described.

I noticed that I had my elbows on the table just the other day. Then I removed them. Then I thought, why? What? Just to have another rule that I don't understand, to follow? Do I have a good reason for not having my elbows there? Is anyone else going to notice how rude I am for having my elbows on the table?

Are my reasons valid for not having them on the table? Usually social rules make a little practical sense. But I am not sure about the elbow thing.

When I was young I was sawing a steak. My only regret after being chastised was not requesting a better cut of beef next time.

Nope, that's legal.

What?:eek: Where do you put stuff that's in transit? Right now my dining room table has a role of masking tape, a battery charger, a pack of lightbulbs, a quart of two-cycle oil, and a new hat in a plastic bag.

It's an internationally famous Americanism. You can tell the Americans across the restaurant by watching how they handle their forks. They never turn them over unless they've been learning Euro-style.

It's one way not to eat your meat in a big hurry so your brain's hunger center has time to catch up with your stomach, with salubrious results for the waistline.

Hats at the table, for gentlemen -- in cattle country -- there is one special case. While a baseball cap on the head at a meal would be counted as gauche in any setting, cowboy hats stayed on in public eateries, in part because a tengallon Stetson is a rather bulky item, and insisting on removing them creates the problem of where to park the things. Usually, the facilities available aren't up to the job. The most convenient parking spot is atop the cowboys' heads.

But I reckon they leave them off eating at home.

@ Bruce: on the floor, of course.

That would mean :o bending over.

My experience of mealtime ettiquette is pretty similar to Ali's. We all sat down together for dinner, every night. The idea of someone being late for dinner was like deciding to spend the night at school and not come home - it was simply too wrong to be considered. Dad used to whistle for us when dinner was ready - an affectation in such a small house, but we were always taught never to shout to eachother if we wanted something, so it worked.

We only ever had napkins at Christmas and Easter, but in that we didn't differ from anyone else in our social class. It was quite acceptable to ask for kitchen towels if you were getting in a mess - certainly more polite than wiping your mouth on your hands or your hands on your clothes.

All dinners were sit-down knife and fork affairs. Saturday lunch was always burger, chips and beans. The burger could be picked up in its bun, but not the chips (or the beans!)

Sunday lunch was as Ali described. Everything out on the table, make your own. This extended to deciding to have cheese on toast instead of a sandwich, even though you were up and cooking while other people were eating.

Dinner was always plated and you could reach over the table for anything you wanted because it was only condiments after all, and on a small table. I learned to ask for things to be passed at friends' houses. You had to ask for permission to leave the table - it was usually granted if you'd finished eating, especially to me as I made mealtimes a misery by complaining about my brother's eating habits. He was a picky eater - to the point he barely ate - so Mum gave him more leeway on certain manners. Like eating mouth-closed and quietly - she was just grateful he was eating at all. I hated it, thought it was unfair and disgusting and said so frequently. In fact I remember leaving the Christmas dinner table early when I was 14 (in tears and WITHOUT PERMISSION!) to go and phone my friend from a callbox because of a row over my brother's eating habits. Funny I've just thought of that. I also used to get up at 06.30 just so I didn't have to sit with him at breakfast - he took about an hour to eat it and it was the only meal of the day he enjoyed.

Anyway. We always had to eat everything on our plates. Even Stevo, although his was tailored to the things he would eat. I only remember one time I really couldn't eat what I was served. I had corned beef hash for the first time and took against it for no good reason. I felt a sneeze coming on, but Mum thought the face I was pulling was me working myself up to be sick and she slapped me out of the room. I then cried til I retched, probably proving her point. Anyway, at tea, Mum had gone to work and Dad had instructions to serve me my leftover lunch. By then I was quite cheerful, VERY hungry, and enjoyed it immensely. In hindsight I feel sorry for Mum, as all it really took was Dad serving it to me for me to decide it was the best meal ever.

My parents were too busy for dinner etiquette. I know my manners (I think) but we almost always ate in front of the TV in the living room since we were old enough to be trusted not to make a huge mess. Usually food was set out on the kitchen counter and it was serve yourself. Cleaning up after was almost always a fight. Napkin in my lap I almost never do, for some reason I just don't like it. The knife and fork thing is something else I didn't pick up. We were expected to eat all of our veggies, or most of them atleast, but if we didn't finish our food that was fine. I think its a horrible thing to be taught to finish your plate, you should stop when you're no longer hungry, if you eat until you're "full" thats actually overeating I've heard. Lack of drinking is also an odd habit we had at meals, we just didn't make sure to have a beverage at the table. When we ate with a friend's family, the mom made us kids drink milk with our dinner which is disgusting to me.