Here’s something that the American’s do well and I’m only just catching onto here in the UK. I’m not talking about Dating Naked. Or their awesomely militarised police. Or The Wizarding World of Harry Potter which is naturally located in Orlando, Florida. When I think of Harry and pals I also think of sun-kissed beaches, art-deco architecture and ready access to Cuban cuisine. I’m talking about Doggy Bags. It was in the title, so if you pretend that the reveal was remotely surprising then you’re just being obtuse.
Also, I’ve never ready needed a doggy bag. I have that psychological thing where you need to clean your plate. What’s the medical term? Huskiness I think. And not just my plate. Other people’s plates. While they’re still eating off them. This causes awkwardness, but they eventually get over it. And that little plate with the bill and mints. I’ve lost count of the number of bills that waiters have had to reprint. Mrs Del Monte is a little less exacting in her plate clearing posture. Of late, she’s adopted the American practise of requesting a doggy bag. I think she should adopt the American practise of carrying a gun. It’s life changing because Mrs Del Monte forgets that she’s done this and my breakfasts have really been kicked up a notch. Steak, linguine, noodles for breakfast. Tops. The sushi and oysters back fired spectacularly I should note.
The principle is fine. It’s the executive action that’s difficult for a Britisher to undertake. As we’re so timid that when asked if everything is all right we respond in the affirmative even if the dying rat in our soup reflexively convulses splashing gazpacho over everyone. It takes an unfamiliar determination to broach the subject of doggy bags. Let me tell you friends, it is worth it. Serving staff are invariably delighted to assist with doggy bags and most restaurants are armed to the teeth with the necessary packaging. Pro tip: don’t take you own bag in with you as they find this a little presumptuous and off-putting especially if it made of real doggy.