There are in our society today ‘wine tasters’, ‘tea tasters’  and  ‘food tasters.’  While the first two verify the quality and flavour of wine and tea, the food taster needs some clarification. They are a  kind of guinea pigs  who must nibble the food at the table to check if it has  any killer poison.  Dictators, as a general rule, will not touch the food  until it is certified safe through a live test. If the taster does not fall dead or swoon within a few minutes, the food is safe to eat. Many communist leaders too go through this drill; they do not trust anyone.  This is my experience when I was posted in a communist country on an UN assignment. But that was decades back. I don’t know if this is the case even now.

Some kings of ancient time too practised this method.

But, have you heard of ‘food grader’? He  is a guy who would eat the full meal and then award marks to the cook.  And it  happens to be me.  It’s not a self proclaimed designation but my wife had named me that. She would say to her friends, “If my hubby had said that the food was ‘good’, there could be no second opinion  on the verdict.”  I am supposed to be  such an  expert !

I didn’t give marks.  I gave only a grade.  And there were only three – GOOD, SO – SO  and  USELESS. The lady wife seldom got ‘good’  and most of the time  it was ‘so – so’ and occasionally ‘useless’.  She was quite satisfied with  my  evaluation.  A wife has to be anyway. Sometime when she sent across, what in my  opinion  ‘use less’ food to our neighbours, they sang praises at her culinary skill. “See, see,”  she would say with an accusing finger at me.  “Everyone appreciates my cooking except…. except… “  You can fill in the blank. Once in a while when I  pronounced the grading  ‘good’ she floated in cloud 9.  “Thank you,” she would  mumble by way of a compliment to me. Inside our home, this was good fun and fine game.  Bu should it go outside our four walls?

Soon my reputation spread to our close relatives who lived nearby.  They  had also come to know that I  was a fuzzy eater who wanted the best at every meal. My standard being so high that even a ‘so-so’ home grade was considered equivalent to ‘excellent’ by others.

The result was that my kith and kin or close friends hesitated to call me over for a treat. The one thing I hate when I am a guest in someone’s house is a query from the hostess, “How is the food?” Not wishing to climb down, I would avoid a direct remark and drawl with, “Well, well, it was quite nice you know?” In actual fact, it deserved only  an ‘useless’ grading  but I couldn’t say it openly.  Sometime, I would evade the question and change the subject.

On one occasion, in a moment of complete absent mindedness I had said, ‘ useless’.  That’s all, the poor hostess went into tears.  Nothing would pacify her.  “I know, I am … I  am ……not a good cook, but was my food  … was my food……so bad …?  “ she howled.  I didn’t know how to get out of the situation.  “No, no, Missus Pande, the food was marvellous  but it was my bad tongue which  had spelt out the wrong most  unintentionally.”  The lady was somewhat appeased at the apology.

From then onwards, I made it a point to say,  “Good food.  I enjoyed it,” even when I  had to push the morsels down an unwilling throat. The modern etiquette rules  call it , “Courtesy”.

But if ever you happen to have  dinner or lunch in my house, we will never ask you for a comment. It’s an embarrassing thing.  We will draw our own conclusion by seeing whether you hogged or  ate it at normal speed.  If you had had  a second or a third helping we knew you loved it.  Incidentally, when guests are around we would have  only a buffet variety.  Nobody would serve you;  you have to do that by yourself. And no one would  compel you to eat more either. And  there is no question of openly  asking for a   judgment.

Why don’t you  also adopt this painless  system?

Popularity: 2% [?]