The Take Away Two Step

                         The Take Away Two Step

         In year’s past, when eating out, diners would often sheepishly ask a waiter for a small bag, to package leftovers from their meal, to “take home for the dog.” Occasionally, you would hear an innocent child diner accompanying them say plaintively,” But mom, we don’t own a dog.” The embarrassed adults would then scoot out of the restaurant, red faced, in having been caught out in their parsimony.

        These days, that practice is no longer disguised. Nor, is the dog even mentioned. For the better part of a generation, people unabashedly ask for a bag  or container to “take home the leftovers.” They proudly scoop up their $.40 worth of uneaten pasta or congealed potatoes, planning to “use them later.” In most cases these treasured remains end up in the refrigerator for a few days, until they are dumped in the trash.

         You would find the practice more understandable from diners who are not so well fixed financially. A life time of savings having made them thrifty as a necessity. But, many of the “take away monsters” are well heeled souls, wearing fashionable clothing and driving luxury vehicles.

        We always wondered what fueled this bit of hoarding? It makes sense that if for some reason or other, you cannot eat or finish your meal, you would want to “take it away” until such time as you could eat what you have already paid for. In most cases though,  it is just plain silly. The restaurants tolerate the practice because they know that their customers like to leave their premises, carrying their bits of gustatory treasure, like just won lottery prizes.

        It can get to silly extremes. One acquaintance had been out for dinner in London, England, the night before she flew home to New York. For some odd reason or other, she didn’t finish part of the steak that she had ordered. Undeterred, she had it boxed up for take-out. That night, she carefully placed on the ledge of her hotel room, to keep it fresh. The next morning, she carefully packed it in her luggage for the flight home.

      Forget about the odor that must have permeated her suitcase, after eight hours. It was the embarrassment that they suffered when a curious customs inspector found, when he opened her suitcase upon arrival, and inquired “what the heck is this?” In that carrying unrefrigerated meat across borders probably violates about a dozen health codes, the inspector politely advised them that “This goes in the trash.” Even retelling the story years later, made the woman’s face redden in embarrassment.

       Admittedly, there are times when we too have performed the “take away two-step.” But, most times, we realize how silly it would be and forgo the practice. It saves the restaurant money and us the problem of throwing the stuff out a few days hence.

       At some point, restaurants will probably abandon this “$.40 worth of pasta savings program” or charge diners for the privilege. Until then, we will just  have to observe diners carefully hoarding their treasures after finishing a meal out, with thrifty plans of future meals. And harboring feelings of thriftiness, delightfully reeling around in their heads.

                                             -30-

                                        (539 words)

                                  Joseph Xavier Martin