Photo credit: www.eater.com
The Dual Nature of Communal Dining: Connection and Challenge
Recently, I found myself grappling with a familiar dining dilemma: an overly talkative fellow patron at the restaurant. While his conversations lacked depth and were delivered at an unwelcome volume, it made the experience less enjoyable. Although his attire was also questionable, the real issue was his overwhelming presence at the communal table where I was seated close to him.
The concept of communal dining is often touted as a great way to forge connections among diners. However, my experience revealed a more complex reality. Instead of being able to huddle in whispers with my dining companions, I was shoulder to shoulder with someone whose boisterous laughter drove home the discomfort of the situation, particularly when I had to ask him to pass the shrimp.
In food discourse, the phrase food brings people together is frequently cited. While it suggests a profound connection, it can sometimes seem insipid. The truth is, food unites individuals primarily because one needs to be present at the table in order to partake in the meal. Not every shared meal guarantees genuine connections, and sometimes it creates more friction than harmony.
The potential for discord becomes even clearer when considering family gatherings around the Thanksgiving table or discussions about the appropriateness of children in restaurants. Dining experiences are fraught with unspoken rules and tensions, making the choice to eat at a communal table an additional risk for diners who are already wary about their hard-earned money and the quality of their companions.
Despite these challenges, an eclectic mix of fine dining establishments is attempting to foster greater togetherness through communal seating. This trend, which has grown from casual cafes and eateries, has notable examples such as the communal table at Blue Hill at Stone Barns and the Dinner Party in Brooklyn. As the so-called “loneliness epidemic” continues to gain attention, restaurants are increasingly leaning into communal dining concepts. This includes venues like Maty’s in Miami and Kwame Onwuachi’s Dōgon in Washington, D.C., which have embraced the communal dining format.
Emily Pilkington, general manager at Mosquito Supper Club, reflects this ethos in chef Melissa Martin’s bayou cuisine, emphasizing that communal settings mirror the communal meals she experienced growing up with family. “The food is meant to be experienced together,” Pilkington notes.
Beyond sentimentality, there are practical merits to communal dining formats. Restaurants like Mosquito Supper Club utilize family-style serving, allowing food to flow freely among diners, while others stick to a pre-set menu. This approach streamlines kitchen operations and can relieve the burden of plating, which is particularly advantageous for pop-ups or venues without permanent locations.
In Philadelphia, Timothy Dearing’s communal dinner party initiative, Ūle, operates under a one-seating-per-night policy, emphasizing interaction as part of the dining experience. Dearing enjoys witnessing strangers bond over food, even if it begins awkwardly.
The challenge lies in facilitating these connections. Dearing acknowledges that while some diners might arrive apprehensive about the communal nature, the ambiance often helps ease tension. “People realize it might be uncomfortable initially, but good food and interesting discussions can lead to a relaxed atmosphere,” he says. However, there are always guests who might be unaware of the communal format until they arrive, which presents its own dynamics for the restaurant staff.
As Pilkington points out, they train their staff in human behavior to encourage interactions among diners. Small tactics, like serving bread early, can serve as icebreakers. Their seating arrangements likewise optimize social engagement, preventing awkward gaps where less talkative guests might feel out of place.
Reflecting on my experience, sitting next to a less-than-ideal dining companion may not have been the worst predicament. My concerns also stemmed from deeper issues, particularly with my wife, who is trans, raising anxieties about the reception we might face at a communal table. Conversations with friends about their experiences revealed similar stories; notably, many people of color recounted instances of being seated next to patrons who were visibly uncomfortable sharing space with them.
These encounters contribute to a heightened sense of vigilance. Perhaps my trepidation prevented me from discovering unexpected connections that could emerge in a communal setting. I recalled times when I had bonded with strangers over shared meals and laughter, gaining camaraderie that felt ephemeral yet genuine.
Ultimately, communal dining holds the potential for delightful surprises and rich connections, yet it also comes with its share of uncertainties. Leaving that recent dinner, I realized the culinary experience was overshadowed by the persona of my dining companion. Still, I felt compelled to embrace another opportunity at a communal table, hoping for a meal where both food and company would be memorable. What a gamble it is, balancing the prospect of pleasure against the potential discomfort.
Source
www.eater.com