Hilde Lee: 'Eating' vs. 'dining'

Having double majored in college in history and international relations, I am always interested in all aspects of history, food history being no exception. Not only is there a fascinating history of food ingredients, but also an interesting history of food presentations and service.

When eating a hot dog in a bun on the steps of a back porch, it is called “eating.” But when that hot dog in a bun is presented on a dinner plate in the dining room, using a knife and fork, it is “dining.”

Dining has a long and fascinating cultural history.

The Greeks probably were the first to translate eating into dining. By the fifth century B.C. they were raising and exporting olives and producing olive oil and wine — some of the finer ingredients of dining.

Food historians have written about the exotic food displays that were created by well-known chefs of the times for their wealthy Greek patrons. Not only did these “amusements” entertain the guests, but they also showed off the chefs’ skills. Many of these displays were not meant to be eaten. Since there were no forks, spoons or plates in those days, food was cut into bite-sized pieces before serving. Everyone ate from one or two common dishes.

With the advent of the Roman Empire in about 31 B. C., feasting arrived in grand style. As the empire grew, so did its culinary imports such as exotic spices and game birds, as well as fish and meat from all parts of the known world. Roman horticulturists hybridized fruits and vegetables to provide different varieties that would be pleasing to the eye and taste. 

The Romans contrived enormous elaborate food presentations to awe and entertain rather than be consumed. Some of the elaborate foods, however, were for consumption. For example, eggs, which, when broken, open revealed roasted orioles. A roasted boar was paraded around the dining hall on a huge platter and, when cut open, revealed a profusion of sausages and blood puddings.

Hosts tried to outdo each other. One host, for example, featured live fish swimming in lakes of gravy on huge trays. Another featured live cattle adorned with garlands of flowers, being paraded through the dining hall.

One useful Roman innovation was the tablecloth. Huge table coverings reached to the floor in Roman dining halls. Roman diners used them to wipe their hands and mouths. Sometimes guests at Roman feasts and banquets brought big napkins with them. But these were usually used to carry home parcels of leftovers and souvenirs.

The collapse of the Roman Empire took culinary excellence and flamboyance down with it. Once again, eating became a source of survival rather than a pleasurable pastime.

In the Middle Ages the monasteries became the cultural and culinary centers of Europe. The production of vegetables, fruits, wines, cheeses and breads flourished at these monasteries. Milk, poultry and game were on the tithes lists, and the faithful provided them. The monks probably ate in silence, but they ate very well.

Guillaume Tirel, or Tailevent, as he was known, refined medieval cuisine and gave it elegance during his reign as chef to Philip VI of France in the mid-14th century. He simplified the cooking of meats and fish. Until that time, these dishes had been cooked twice — first roasted, then cut up and cooked again with spices. During that period they were still served as finger food.

By the end of the prosperous 14th century in Europe, food again became a source of pleasure and snobbery. Expensive spices imported from the Far East livened sauces on the tables of the rich. The diet of the times consisted primarily of meat, to which the sauces were added.

Meat on the table meant prosperity. Vegetables, at that time, were considered fit only for animals and the poor. Since most of the meat, fish and fowl were salted to preserve it, long roasting or boiling was necessary to leach out the salt. Floury, spicy sauces and starchy side dishes also were used to cut the salt.

This regime certainly would not fit into today’s diets.

In the 14th century, as in Roman times, tablecloths were used in the richer houses, particularly in France.

They often were laid on the table in elegantly pleated arrangements. Damask from Reims, developed specifically for table linens, was used whenever possible. The edges of even these magnificent cloths were used as napkins, though at that time some households had large communal napkins hung along the wall at intervals. Thus, the diners could get up, wipe their hands and mouths and then return to their seats.

As time went on, it became the custom to change the tablecloth at least once during the meal. Napkins were then changed after each course, until the unavailability of such absurd quantities of freshly laundered linens made this impractical.

Such snobberies gradually gave way to common sense. Now we rely mainly on paper napkins in beautifully embossed patterns.