136144172
“When is it not acceptable to ask for a doggie bag in a restaurant? queries Kim M. recently in last week's “Ask George.”
“Not acceptable?” Our first thought, Ms. M., was, “That’s like asking when is it not acceptable to have another Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup? Why, yes, that ’09 Pomerol is mighty tasty, but another sip? Hmm. Not sure if “that’s acceptable.”
Is it ever “acceptable” not to ask for something to tote home those three honey-ginger chicken wings left stranded on the platter?
Are you serious?
Now in his thoughtful reply our Editor did note it might be a trifle gauche to request a doggie bag at the conclusion of a professional business meeting meal. Which is why when we’re at those sorts of dining events we always employ some distraction—“Hey! Is that Beyonce who just walked in?”—and then when everyone’s looking to see if it is Beyonce we casually slip the remains of our Quesarito® into the vest pocket of our suit. Otherwise, though, the advice imparted to Ms. M. was that it is perfectly fine to request un petit sac por emporter les restes.
Of course.
Come on. Would our ancestors have asked this question? Do you think Neanderthals squatted around the remains of a community barbecue and considered leaving the mammoth leftovers behind? Would Ma Joad have just waltzed out of some diner in western Oklahoma without the wrapped up remains of that blue plate special on the table? No way. They’d have been eating cold chicken fried steak halfway across Colorado.
We’re old enough to have been lectured to by more than one Japanese housewife that every grain of rice left in the bowl represents a tear from the farmer who grew it.
Exactly.
For every bite of flounder with braised fennel you leave floundering on your plate at Acero, a fisherman snags a net.
For every mouthful of lamb osso buco with white bean cassoulet that’s still sitting in the bowl when you walk out of The Tavern, a shepherd steps where he immediately wishes he hadn’t.
Acceptable to request a doggie bag? If you’re eating right, it ought to be mandatory.
It happens we read Ms. M’s question and Our Editor’s reply just as we were ruminating about what to have for lunch. Normally this is under consideration by us while we eat breakfast. But it had been a busy morning with myriad distractions. So we wandered over to the refrigerator. And here’s a list of what we found in remains, of the doggie bag variety:
- Gnocchi with roasted butternut squash from Cooper’s Hawk Winery & Restaurant, along with gnocchi Bolognese and braised short ribs—it was a gnocchi kind of night—and half a bottle of Chardonnay we brought home from the same place.
- Crispy pork intestine soup,
- Chicken and mushroom soup with pork blood cake,
- Chilled noodles with sesame seed sauce, tree-ear fungus, cucumbers and carrots,
- Sliced ribeye with enoki mushrooms and noodle stew,
All from a light lunch at the Cate Zone Chinese Café, about which you may read more here.
- Pizza Margarita and a couple of arancini from Cibare, the hot new Italian eatery at the River City Casino, about which you’ll also be soon reading more and which reheats splendidly—the pizza that is—when placed in a cast iron skillet and covered with a lid for about five minutes which is really the only decent way to revive pizza.
Yeah. So basically, we’ve got options for lunch that beggar the culinary imagination. And without those doggie bag delectables? We’d be staring into the cold belly of that Frigidaire trying to decide if the orange marmalade would technically qualify as “jelly” on a peanut butter sandwich or what chicken gravy would taste like on those celery stalks that are more flaccid than Sarah Jessica Parker’s career.
Ms. M, I daresay that should we look into your closet we would find the essentials of timeless style: black pumps, a pencil skirt, a two-button navy blazer. Doggie bags afford your refrigerator the same kind of class. Acceptable? Oh, yes, my dear. And so much more.
(Note: We were kidding about slipping the remains of our Quesarito® into our suit jacket pocket. We have, of course, never left anything more than a smear of hot sauce of those bad boys.)
