Shut up and feed me.

Attention ‘Sopranos’ fans.  Remember that episode from Season 6, "Luxury Lounge"?

That's the one where the two Jersey Family idiots, Christopher and Little Carmine try and solicit actor Ben Kingsley's interest in their slasher flick but wind up mugging Lauren Bacall for her award-ceremony goodies bag instead.

It's also the episode in which one of the other Jersey Family idiots and hangers-on, chef and restaurateur Artie Bucco, has a spectacular meltdown before he eventually acknowledges his station in life - as Tony Soprano's goofy, garrulous, perennially put-upon purveyor of free dinners. Artie's epiphany arrives only after a series of brutal humiliations - verbal, physical, emotional – respectively dished out by Tony, psychotic and deceitful Benny Fazio, and Artie’s loyal, exhausted wife Charmaine.

Artie realises he will never be respected by the made-guys, nor desired by the Bada-Bing's strippers, even if he is still much-loved by his trooper of a wife Charmaine. Artie is a gifted chef but an annoying presence (his ham-fisted and desperate attempts to make small-talk with his diners make you sweat with embarrassment), so his restaurant ‘New Vesuvio’ is failing, doomed to survive only by catering to the discount voucher crowd.

The episode's later scenes are especially poignant. Charmaine has just seated a young couple at a table after the restaurant is officially closed, the staff have left and there's no more food left. A battered and bandaged Artie, drained by his trials, insists the couple will get what he gives them, no menu - no options.

Artie is then shown quietly and lovingly cooking a rabbit he'd shot himself (after he caught it helping itself to his precious imported Italian greens in his kitchen garden – another humiliation. Poor Artie) in his beloved restaurant kitchen, from a handwritten recipe in an old family cookbook.  

It’s a beautiful scene, and the camera lingers on Artie’s devoted concentration in a way that makes my mouth water just remembering it. The plump rabbit, the oil, the chopped onions and tomatoes…arghhhh.

Forget HD - I pine for scratch and sniff television.

It’s also a great scene because it highlights exactly what cooking and serving food should be about – making something special out of whatever you have to hand. Being thankful when someone makes you something tasty and delicious and not being a pernickety arsehole about your likes and dislikes.

(I imagined a Saturday Night Live – style parody of this scene where the young couple start listing all their food intolerances and allergies, and Artie finally loses it and comes out wielding a cleaver and hacks the couple to death).

I have been guilty of listing my dos and don’ts when out with friends or just visiting (there are some things I can’t/won’t eat during the Lenten fast and I believe allowing for faith-based food restrictions is a mark of respect even though I know intellectually, they’re ancient and irrational) but this whole gluten-free, wheat-free, did-the-chicken-have-a-humane-death, is-the-cutlery-organic shtick beloved of the modern diner is disrespectful, First-World bullshit - pure and simple.

Just shut up and eat. Just shut up and eat when you’re invited to someone’s home. Respect the chef – just shut up and eat. Ask yourself:

• How lovely is it to sit down and put your tastebuds in the hands of people who know their food and wine? 
• How relaxing is it to sit down at a table adorned with crisp napery, good crystal and good company and not worry about deciphering the menu or mispronouncing the dishes?
• How lovely is it to discover a taste, flavour or texture you’ve never experienced before – and maybe never will again?

The single word answer to all of these questions is 'very'.

 

Note to Artie Bucco – Just shut up and feed me.