Constant digital pinging, 24/7 connectivity, the pressure to multitask – the silent, self-imposed exile from the simple pleasures of a quiet, uninterrupted meal has become yet another casualty of this ever-evolving techno-age.
To cranky minds, it might seem like a mere dreary lamentation for times past. But as a lifelong resident of Schenectady, I have silently observed our mealtime protocols diminish and scoffed over the steadily increasing proclivity for statue-like silence at our dining tables, with more eyes buried in screens than on our fellow diners or even the steaming dishes in front of us.
Perhaps it’s from being raised by parents with a deep concern for etiquette, or maybe it stems from my English-Irish heritage with its rich traditions of sit-down dinners and lively conversation. But I can tell you this: it’s also from witnessing the brilliant dusk of the era that cherished the uninterrupted, communal activity of dining. An era that viewed mealtime not merely as a physiological necessity but as an opportunity for connection, conversation, and shared joy for the senses.
Hark back, if you will, to the 1970s and 80s – a golden era of gastronomic unity. The dinner table was a shared experience, a space for families to discuss and digest the day’s events, for friends to engage in spirited debates, for lovers to whisper sweet nothings amidst savory morsels. But in the age of the omnipresent smartphone and the compulsion to be available at all times, mealtime has transformed from being a relaxing sojourn to just another task executed while hurrying through emails, tweets, texts or the endless scroll.
I can see some of you younger readers rolling your eyes from across the digital divide, nevertheless let me paint you a vivid picture. Imagine, if you would, Casa Mia on Union Street, circa 1980.
Rotund Charlie Marcella standing at the entrance, kissing a rosary before dinner rush, while inside, tables draped with immaculate white linen carry piping hot pizzas and lasagna that could make any hardcore diet enthusiast cheat. Here in that buzzing dining room, you would have seen fathers in their ill-fitting suits discussing baseball, mothers in billowy dresses humming along to Sinatra while watching their children, awestruck at the romance of it all.
You might say that things change, Brian, adapt or die. Yes, sure. I get it. I have adapted. I am no stranger to the convenience of technology. However, the question is not whether we adapt, but how we do so. We’ve forgotten that mealtime is culture, it’s tradition, it’s family, it’s friends, it’s laughter – it’s everything wrapped up in the enticing wafting smell of the shared roast.
Interruptions were blasphemy. Recall if you can your grandmother admonishing you at the table to “talk after you’ve had your food”? The words have changed, but the sentiment remains. Except these days, instead of waiting to talk, we’re waiting to text, post, tweet, or snap a filter-enhanced image of our food. In doing so, we’re missing out on a key aspect of the cultural significance of mealtime: connection.
As a self-proclaimed curmudgeon, I yearn for the nostalgia of those meals without the lurking specter of digital interruptions. Those tech-free meals allowed us to engage with the food, truly savor the flavors – something that the present distraction-filled meals hardly allow.
We have become so afraid – afraid of introspection, afraid of concentrated thought, afraid of being with our own minds, our own tastes. We hide behind the comfort of the screen, hopping from one notification to another. So, here’s an audacious suggestion: next time you sit down for a meal, put that cellphone, tablet, or laptop aside.
In broad strokes, I am painting a picture of a time where sitting down to eat meant focusing on just that – eating. There were no emails to check, no social media to scroll through, just good food and even better company. I know the prospects of such a proposition may seem improbable for many, nearly prehistoric, but in the essence of it all, you’ll be surprised to find tranquility.
You see, it’s not my age talking here; it’s my heart, and the heart of every community tends to echo such sentiments. As the world embraces the digital landscape, I ask that you remember the importance of a shared meal, an uninterrupted repast where the only meeting you are in is with the flavors unfolding in your mouth, and the only report you need to submit is the curve of your smile.
And so, I challenge you. I challenge you to reclaim your mealtimes, to make them a sanctuary of peace and enjoyment, a respite from the storm of digital connectivity, and a testament to the simple, pure pleasure of a good meal shared amongst family, friends, and loved ones, uninterrupted by the chatter of the digital world.
For as long as there have been people, there has been food - and for as long as there has been food, it has been more than just about sustenance. It’s about tradition, connection, and the shared human experience - a symbolism that we ought to cherish, more so in this epoch of lightning-paced developments and crumbling barriers. Embrace this nostalgic longing for meals uninterrupted by digital distractions. After all, in the grand sweep of human history, isn’t it just the most natural thing to do
