...I have to follow the code, it's the only thing that stands between me and rude table behavior.
That honey glazed ham tastes great although its a little dried out in the middle. There’s an absolute cap on how good ham can be anyway I guess, it doesn’t have the decadence of a great steak nor does it have the ability to bend to the whims of the flavoring of an expert preparation like fish or poultry, but it is a treat nonetheless. That’s why I eat it for breakfast every morning after I prepare it with my pointy two pronged tomato knife. These mashed potatoes really hit the spot. Comfort food at the most basic level, simply put, the single greatest starch you can add to a meal. The string beans are even popping tonight, perfectly tender while still maintaining a garden fresh crispness.
That home made mac and cheese, though, the one with with 3 different cheeses mixed in and a crispy coating of bread crumbs on the top was baked to perfection, that mac and cheese is the star of the show tonight. I didn’t take enough when I took my first serving, I didn’t want to look like a glutton. But wait… are those finely cut mushrooms mixed in? It adds so much to the flavor. I finished everything on my plate except for this last bite but my soul still aches for more. I savor my last bite, it warms my being as it slides down my throat into my digestive tract. I want some more, everyone else is still eating, this is the perfect time to make one last move. Have one last serving. But wait… no… my time as passed…
There’s only one spoonful left. I’m unfamiliar with these people at this table. If it were just Deb and the baby, or better yet Rita and the kids I would have no qualms taking that last morsel. But with these so called “friends” and “acquaintances,” more like strangers, I don’t feel the comfort necessary to act. Slices of ham as far as the eye can see, warm bread in a basket within arms reach, mashed potatoes sitting on the other end of the table… but only one spoonful left of mac and cheese. Sitting. Waiting. Rapidly cooling to room temperature. The mac and cheese won’t be mine, it can’t be. It’s flavorful flavorful and rich, yet it fades into the darkness of culinary delights past. I want to take it for myself but I cannot. It belongs to everyone and no one all at the same time.
[Harry Morgan nods approvingly as Dexter adheres to the non-familial group dinner last serving code wherein no one ever touches the last serving of any item on the table when eating in a large group of non-family members for fear of being considered a pig]