I read that it’s Dixie’s mission to build a better paper plate to be stronger and prevent grease from seeping through. What I’d really like is a paper plate with some weight to it so it doesn’t fly away every time a breeze blows. A weighted plate would be ideal.
We go to this pizzeria that serves its hot dishes on Styrofoam plates. The plastic knife you get to cut ravioli or a meatball is adequate enough for the job. But a plastic knife to cut into chicken parmesan doesn’t quite cut it. A real knife is needed.
I reach for the small napkins to clean the mess, when what I need is big, heavy duty, super absorbent size napkins.
It seems when you become a parent and you go out to eat, it’s in the rule book that you must order extra napkins. When the waiter asks, “Can I get you anything else?” our answer must be, “Extra napkins.” We like to have them stocked and ready for any and all food disasters.
We take precautions with napkins the way some people use sun block on their skin when going out. Ordering napkins is as automatic as ordering dessert. I can’t remember anymore the days before we had to start requesting extra napkins. But kids come along and you find you need napkins the way you need diapers. You wouldn’t think a marshmallow would require a napkin, but you’d be wrong.
When I set the table for dinner I place a stack of them at one end, where I can grab em’. Need to wipe the soda that dribbled down your chin? Here’s a napkin. Need to spit out the piece of fatty chicken? Here’s a napkin.
When I was a kid I would try and hide the food I didn’t like in my napkin. Only when my napkin kept getting shorter and shorter and lumpier and lumpier my mother would get suspicious. I was busted.
To bad there wasn’t a plate with secret compartments back then. This is what Dixie should work on. Just think how much food a kid can hide in that.