Strolling along Second Avenue on Manhattan's Upper East Side, where I’m convinced that all the restaurants share a vast industrial kitchen underground, a pizza pie caught my eye. It had just been placed on a sidewalk cafe table where a family of three was happy to see it and at the same time an acquaintance who’d spotted them. He didn’t step back to distance himself from the fully loaded pie, he just kept talking all over the salami, peppers cheese, etc. For me, he was too close for comfort food.
I am in touch with my germ issues. And it made me think about the time I saw friends with their daughter and marveled how properly she ate her bread, small pieces with little pats of butter. They were eating al fresco and I remember being mindful of not adding any moisture to their bread plate. I'm sure they’ll let me know if I did the right thing after this post.
Unless you are begged to have a seat, a wave, or even an air kiss is fine but when the food comes, it’s time for you to go. Buon Appetito! Buon Viaggio!