There was also the ‘eat what’s put in front of you’ rule, that you had to finish whatever was on your plate, even if you didn’t like the food.
The only thing I will ever reproach my wonderful parents for, was the one occasion when about 7 when they literally forced some chicken down my throat. For some reason I loathed eating chicken (some decades before being vegetarian!) and this incident didn’t improve matters…
You also had to try everything once, you couldn’t say you didn’t like something until you’d tried it at least once.
I am continually astonished by people who do not understand how to hold their knife and fork.
Table manners are an essential entry to social graces.
It is an immediate give away, but I remember having a boyfriend who was an RAF Officer and over fifty years ago he was telling me that there were new officers who had to be given lessons on how to behave at table.
We have had to learn to change how we keep our hands on the table here in France.
I still find it impossible to leave a plate that isn’t empty which makes weight control quite a challenge, especially in a job that requires me to eat out a lot.
Television, especially American, has made a terrible contribution to eating habits. Sat on a settee or easy chair with plate in one hand and fork in the other like a shovel.
As a family we have always eaten at the table hence why it is called the dining table.
Buffet meals promote bad manners and McDonald’s, eating with fingers ugh!
Even a buffet is eaten at the table in our house.
Which is why I have a horror of having too much food on my plate! When we use to go to OH’s mum for sunday lunch she would pile my plate high as that was her way of showing generosity. It took years to get her to recognise that was not comfortable for me, much tho’ I liked her food.
Almost all of the above comes back to me now, especially that we always had to ask to get down, not up, from the table, I suppose that means it was drilled in from a very early age. Don’t speak with your mouth full, no elbows on the table etc. etc. etc.
Nowadays I always eat alone and keep up most of the standards but one thing I do do as a result (definitely not in company) I do run my tongue along the flat sides of my knife to clean it completely when I have finished. Now, in the unlikely event that one of you gets up there before me, don’t breathe a word to them, will you?
As to the OP, as over much of the last 30 odd years my eating has been in French company, Bon Appetit comes naturally now without thinking.
My parents were quite strict in as much as you had to clear your plate whether you liked it or not because it cost money to provide, no elbows on table, certainly no eating anywhere other than the table unless it was a special occasion and no room for everyone except the grandparents at the table so they could put their plates on a flat surface. I remember being given vile tapioca pudding one lunchtime and it made me retch and I refused to eat it so mum made me sit there for a very longtime and said I could not go to my cousin’s party later on. I hated that cousin as he was a bully who was always hitting andpinching us so I continued to refuse until it was too late to go and mum gave up (I secretly think she did not want me going either). I have to admit though today I do eat quite often sitting in front of the TV with a tray as there is only me and no one else to corrupt.
Furthermore - as one of my vegetarian friends would point out - animals died to provide meat so you don’t waste it if you’ve ordered it. He insisted his daughter finish her plate when she didn’t want the meat she’d asked for.
We never had those, family of six already had a lot of washing to contend with so any messy kids had an old, clean teatowel instead which did until it was ready to be washed. Strange because we all had napkin rings as christening presents which just stayed in their boxes even to this day.
We were 4 kids and 2 parents… and the other families were as large or larger…
so, obviously the ladies in the various branches of our family didn’t mind doing the washing…
our rings were christening presents, with the appropriate name engraved… and were used every day,… at every meal.
They used to be polished regularly and when each of us was old enough, we joined-in with this task.
I have not cleaned mine nor OH’s for many, many years… but no-one notices, of if they do, they keep it to themselves…
the serviettes just go in with the laundry… and out on the line…
You must have been born with excellent table manners and social graces .
There is usually a reason behind everything, la politesse.
It is not pleasant to watch someone eating with their mouth open and I understand that the reason why tge French keep their hands on the table is so you can be sure that they are not holding a secret weapon.
For me, table customs are circumstantial: in ‘company’ use knife and fork carefully, eating slowly and managing appearances. Relaxed company, use knife as cutting instrument as required. Just the 2 of us, a fork is fine for food that doesn’t require cutting.
Regarding talking and eating, this is a very bad idea: not just for reasons of politeness/appearance, but I also tend to bite the inside of my mouth, sometimes quite badly, if I have to eat and talk at the same time. As a friend once said after going to yet another ‘breakfast meeting’ in the US “you can meet or you can eat”.
As a child I was highly ‘selective’ about what passed my lips, and since we were very hard-up, that could be quite challenging. Things did get pushed to the point of being physically sick at one stage, and it was only when I could manage my own foods that it was possible to overcome aversion to many things. The 2 exceptions are eggs (which smell like diarrhea to me when cooked) and fat/gristle from meat although there are a number of other things that I avoid as far as possible but can eat if essential.
My main hazard if “out” for a meal and chatting to people is not chewing properly and getting a bit of meat stuck in my throat (not blocking my airways fortunately but being unable to swallow it). Ended up in A&E one time with a particularly recalcitrant bit of pork. (Their remedy : a dose of Coca-Cola to tickle the gullet and wait for nature to take its course).
I am now very aware of not eating and talking at the same time, and keep a couple of cans of Coke in the fridge.
The trouble is that the French have a “bon” for almost every eventuality - match, courage, appetit, etc. The one I remember most vividly as I struggled with a gardening task was my neighbour offering a “Bonne continuation”.
not sure what we’d feed 'em with these days… if shortages persist 
