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sacred cows
Food for thought
Feeding
frenzy: Miriam Dunn ponders over the lengths some people will go
to for a free mini-pizza, a couple of chips or a cheese cake when
it's a free-for-all
Tajjeb ghax tajjeb u tajjeb ghax b'xejn' was a saying I learned
when I hadn't been in Malta that long. (It's good because it's good
and it's also good because it's free.)
I think it followed hot on the heels of the swearing lesson I received
from the workmen who were renovating the flats opposite where I
was living at the time, but that's another story.
‘Tajjeb ghax tajjeb' etc was explained to me by a Maltese friend
who willingly obliged by translating every new word, phrase or idiom
that popped up in a sentence when I made it known that I was interested
in expanding my knowledge of the language.
The circumstances of that moment are now a blurred memory –
probably someone insisted on treating us to a good plate of pasta
or decent bottle of wine. But I recall that at the time, the saying
seemed appropriate and somewhat endearing, as have so many Maltese
proverbs and idioms that I have become acquainted with over the
years.
It was some time later that I saw this particular phrase manifested
in all its glory. And I can even tell you when… July 1991,
my first visit to the annual Trade Fair.
I will never forget the occasion. As we made our way around the
exhibition halls, I could only conclude that there must be the latest
noteworthy innovative contraption from Zanussi, Siemens or Toshiba
on show, on account of the huge crowd thronging around a workshop
bench.
Craning to get a look at whatever this wonder of science and technology
could be, I was crushed and squashed by fellow members of the public
whom, I presumed, had the same aim as me.
How wrong I was! The item on show was not a self-programming washing
machine or something similar that might justifiably draw the masses
in such a way – it was a quick cooker, which, although a useful
gadget, certainly wasn't winning any Nobel prize for science.
So, was every member of this crowd that was beginning to equal the
proportions of a political rally preparing to open their wallets
and pull out a wad of notes to the value of whatever a ‘Quick-Cook
cooker' cost?
I suppose it was the smell of cooking, coupled with the fact that
the thronging masses were using their hands to grab mini-pizzas
off passing paper plates rather than to write out cheques that eventually
gave the game away. No one was buying anything, everyone simply
wanted to stuff their faces with the food that was being churned
out as a demonstration of how this kitchen gadget worked!
What a sight! Was there a gas strike that had rendered the island's
ovens useless? I could think of no other explanation for all these
voracious appetites and grabbing fingers, none of which seemed to
belong to a person with any intention of weighing up whether the
product was of a better quality for having been warmed up in the
demonstration oven. ‘Quick-Cook' was most definitely matched
by quick gulp and quick swallow, especially if there were any seconds
hanging around on the paper doilies.
Since my Trade Fair inauguration, I have witnessed several examples
of such behaviour, sometimes amusing and at other times verging
on the disturbing.
And never more so than when there is a greater trophy on offer:
when there is free food and drink of a high quality around, fractured
toes and bruised ribs seem to be even more worth the sacrifice.
I still have vivid memories of an event held last year, which was,
rather inaccurately described as a wine tasting opportunity. Inaccurate
only because no guest was going to limit himself to ‘tasting'
the wine, in the connoisseur's sense, when there was bottle after
bottle of the stuff lined up on the table, at no cost.
The rush to the tables to grab a glass of wine and galletti topped
with a piece of cheese left the room looking like a bomb had exploded
within minutes of the crowd making its entrance.
Disbelieving chefs and waiters shook their heads as they looked
at their painstakingly-prepared tresselled tables, which, within
minutes, had the appearance of a very well-attended toddler's birthday
party.
The ‘wine tasters' had managed to destroy a salt display, uproot
a cheese stand, pull off a tablecloth and overturn platters while
simultaneously ensuring every morsel of food was eaten and every
drop of wine glugged.
The only saving grace was that the distinct lack of leftovers meant
the mess was contained, so to speak.
I have even witnessed the race for a free bite to eat and something
to wash it down with leading to frayed tempers and worse. Getting
caught underfoot by a determined starving multitude is nothing compared
to the war that can break out between three salivating guests when
there is only one ‘pastizz' left on the plate.
I even watched as a physical fight erupted between two undernourished
members of a queue – and I use the term loosely – at a
complimentary Chinese buffet.
The poor waiters ran out of food as diners grabbed, lunged and ran
with plates piled high of rice, noodles, sweet and sour pork and
spring rolls. Would they really eat all that? Well yes, probably,
but something about the wallet staying firmly in the back pocket
seems to increase the size of the portions people decide to take.
The restaurant manager's plea to people to limit themselves to one
spring roll and two dumplings fell on deaf ears and empty stomachs.
Arrangements seemed to be in the offing for a duel at dawn between
two men over the last wanton.
Perhaps one of the most amusing aspects of the ‘tajjeb ghax
b'xejn' syndrome is that some determined diners seem prepared to
fight and grapple when they don't even like what's on offer.
After all, some of those sad, soggy chips and chipolata sausages
that are demonstrating those kitchen gadgets look anything but ‘tajjeb'
even if they are ‘b'xejn', don't they?
I can honestly say I haven't been guilty myself of such actions
yet, at least, certainly not over a greasy pizza or burnt ‘pastizz'.
But I admit that if I witness a good chocolate offer, I may well
be eating more than just my words.
And in that case, I may well step over the best of them to get there.
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