Never say no to a napkin

In my world there are foods which will always require eating utensils and other foods which shouldn’t but do. I’ll give you an example…

I want to eat a burger using my hands – it’s the way God and nature intended. However, take those humongous, stacked burgers which restaurants are wont to serve more and more; using your hands turns into an agility challenge. Two or three patties, melting cheese, tomatoes and sauce erupting out from the sides – chefs think that if they stick a skewer down through the middle then everything’s going to be OK. I’ve got news for you: Everything’s not OK.

I don’t think I’ve ever eaten a burger in a restaurant when I haven’t had to admit defeat and pick up my knife and fork. The problem is usually having to hang onto the burger with both hands and then somehow finding a way to wipe your mouth.

This shouldn’t be the way.

Then there’s the example of the messy burrito…

This particular incident transpired one weekday afternoon when I decided I would treat myself to a burrito for lunch. It was in that Mexican place, Guapo, which used to live on Omagh’s Bridge Street and on the day in question I distinctly remember the lady at the counter asking if I wanted a napkin. However, with my hands already full (burrito in one hand and bottle of water in the other), I foolishly remarked, “Na, sure I’ll be grand.”

Mere minutes later I soon realised that everything was decidedly not grand.

I won’t bore you with the messy details but when, on this occasion, I finally admitted defeat, it wasn’t to resort to a fork and knife but rather to I returned to the counter, cheeks and chin lathered in sauce and asked, somewhat shamefacedly like a caveman encountering dining etiquette for the first time, “Can I have a napkin please?”

Although, I can also remember thinking that what I really needed was a hosing down and a bib for future reference.

This shouldn’t be the way.

Just as I understand that people should never eat spaghetti bolognese with their hands, one should never have to use utensils for the genus of sandwiches.

I’ll give you another example: Paninis.

Lately, I’ve had to quit ordering paninis if and when I’m abroad at lunchtime. I like paninis. I love the crunchy texture of the crisped bread. I love the melting cheese within. I love the way each bite can be slightly different than the last. Let’s face it, good paninis are the Angelina Jolies of the sandwich world. Bad paninis are like turning up for a lunch date with Angelina Jolie and finding Miley from Glenroe.

My main cause for concern with paninis is that some establishments don’t believe in the sandwich (or panini) press.

Oh no, the fillings are treated like toppings and these are all heaped along the middle of the bread and then, instead of the panini being pressed, it is merely placed in an oven or under a grill. Consequently, instead of being able to use your hands as God and nature intended, you have to admit defeat and crack out the knife and fork.

I’m not sure why this annoys me as much as it does; maybe it’s because I’ve eaten some really delicious paninis of the pressed variety and so when I have to admit defeat, that realisation works as a harbinger of regret.

Which is partly why I’ve started making paninis at home.

Instead of a top of the range panini press, all I use is my commoner garden George Foreman grill. It’s more pressure than press, but it works a treat.

Financially, it also makes sense to make paninis at chez toi and for me, they are best consumed on a Saturday afternoon when the fridge has just been stocked for the week ahead and there is plenty of choice (before the hungry weans get their mits on the goodies).*

So far, I’ve refrained from contacting my MP to demand an end to this farcical panini situation. I simply don’t order paninis any more when I’m out.

Thus, from repeated panini experiences on Saturday afternoons, I have learned that, like all good pizzas, less is more when it comes to panini fillings.

What I have also learned from bitter experience is: Never-ever-ever say no to a napkin.

*Do you know what the French put inside their paninis? Burgers and chips! I’m serious. And it’s deadly tackle too.