On Thu, 24 Nov 2005, Buzinkum wrote:

> Maybe it's just me, but why is it everywhere I go to eat a nice meal
> there is a host who obliviously serves up pie or cake by slicing,
> burying their fingers in the topping to move the piece, then sucking on
> their fingers and serving up the next slice? Seems to be common among
> the over-50 crowd, of which I am not.
>
> I know chefs in restaurants taste and touch food as a matter of course,
> but at least they don't generally do it in plain sight of their guests
> with a dim-witted sort of glee.
>
> How do you politely tell someone, especially a relative or in-law, to
> first not bury their fingers in your frosting, and then second stop
> licking their damn fingers before they touch and serve your slice?
>

Oh, wow, can I relate to this! A lot of people who have never cooked
commerically don't even realize they are doing it. With friends and
family, I just try to ignore it. That seems better to me than saying,
"Excuse me, could I have a piece of cake that you *haven't* slobbered all
over?" Usually, I skip dessert.

One that makes me nuts is birthday cake. Set the cake down, light the 400
candles, have the birthday boy or girl blow on it 3 or 4 times and when
he/she can't do the job, 2 or 3 other people step forward to help. Oh,
yeah, baby, give me a really big piece of that cake! This is always the
most fun when it is at the office. And, please, oh please, buy those
candles that won't blow out so everybody gets a chance to prove that they
*can* get the candles to stay out.

But the very, very worst for me are those with the motto, "love me, love
my dog". I hate to be somewhere and have the person sitting in the chair
holding the family pet and then say, "I made some cookies",
only to bypass the sink and go straight for the cookies with those bare,
unwashed hands.

A number of years ago, my SIL came for some holiday and brought her two
little lap dogs. I left her in the den, sitting on the floor playing with
the fur babies and went to the kitchen to check whatever I was cooking. I
washed my hands and then stirred the pot. About that time, she came around
the corner with an empty glass in her hand and headed straight for my ice
maker bin ( in the days before ice-from-the-door). Without even realizing
it, I called out, very urgently and loudly, I'm afraid, "NO!" She stopped,
I crossed the kitchen quickly, took her glass, and said, in a more polite
voice, "I'll get it for you, dear. You've been playing with the dogs." It
seemed to take her a minute to understand what I was saying. boo, hiss.

Elaine, too