I was at my favourite weekend lunch place the other day and watched with both amusement and derision; a family of four display a different approach to buffeting. Mother, father, son and daughter were all fleshly well endowed. The males even threatened popping little tangerines on their chests and competed favourably with their female counterparts in the rubbing bums department. No sooner had they found seats than the young male was off food scouting. Following closely at his heels was Mother. Mother’s report back was necessarily more comprehensive than the young man’s declaration that he wanted fried rice. The young lady quickly chirped her agreement with her brother’s choice, not forgetting to add “and salad!” Yep kids will always be like that and that’s okay. Drinks was Malta Guinness all round. It’s the drink for all those who “don’t drink”. So anyway, Mother Hubbard sets off back to the food with the kids. They return many minutes later from their exploits, glowing with pride and joy. The wide plates were heaped with jolloff, fried rice, chicken, bread, gravy, shito, and off course salad- the Ghanaian type. Ghanaian salad is the one that comes with all the works- the basics plus baked beans, sardines, salad cream, corned beef...you know.
Each plate must have been pointing to the stack of plates at the buffet table and wondering what distinguished them for such attention. By the way, Mother’s plate also had some boiled yam and palaver sauce in addition! Daddy looked at the booty approvingly, shuffling his feet in preparation for his turn.
As the kids settled to what was to be a ferocious battle of the jaws, daddy left to fetch his bit; with Mother in tow. I wondered what Mother possibly could have forgotten. Daddy returned with a plate similar to those earlier described and Mother with a tray of three fat bowls all brimming with soup and at least four pieces of meat apiece. As the two adults approached their seats they started looking sheepishly about them as if expecting someone to relieve them of a burden. Luckily an extraordinary waiter whose eyes had keenly followed the pair came to the rescue with two smaller tables. It was then that their concept of buffet came home to me. As the waiter left the family, he remarked courteously that they could return to the buffet as many times as they pleased. It’s a buffet remember? I almost fainted!
I really can’t fault the bounty family for caring to make the most of the money they were to dish out after their meal. These things don’t come cheap. Their approach to buffets however is not confined to those who insist on eating more than their contribution to the cost of the food before them or stretch their bellies to contain more than their bellies would call enough of a fill or yet still those who believe it’s better to leave food enough for someone’s meal on their plate rather than leave it on the buffet for those who might actually eat it.
I have noticed, interestingly that when no contribution is made to the cost of the spread, the average Ghanaian belly’s elasticity tends to triple, probably through some biological messaging between the eyes and the mid section. I think this must be researched. The phenomenon occurs frequently at parties ... and funerals too! On courses, meetings, conferences and the like where there are usually two “tea breaks” the scramble for pies, cakes and other little eateries takes minutes. If you are one of those who chit chat and linger to the table of goodies, chances are, you have developed a thing for “black coffee; no sugar no cream”.
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