I have a confession.
If the general consensus is that I should never do this again, I will seriously consider stopping (not that I had ever done this before–see below). I know that the story I am about to relate will disgust and confound some readers. Beware that I am thin-skinned, but don’t hold back.
Here’s the short version. While in Chicago, my family and I (my wife and I have two daughters, aged six and eight) went to a trendy chocolatier (a store that sells high-priced chocolate). While at said store, I ate some of the high-priced chocolate left by a customer who had left the store just as we were sitting down.
As I relate this, I am haunted by the Seinfeld episode where George Costanza is caught rummaging through the trash can in the kitchen of a house eating a pastry that someone had thrown away. My adventure also brings to mind an idea put forth by “Tim,” a friend of mine, who has long argued that all morality starts with what one puts into one’s mouth.
Here’s what happened. We went to a chocolatier, where my wife ordered a high-priced cup of hot chocolate. The chocolatier was located on the first floor of an upscale mall that sells lots and lots of things that nobody really needs. It just so happened that the Lego store was on the second floor of that mall. That was our true destination when we were distracted by chocolatier’s prominent location.
This is not one of those restaurants where you are assigned your own table. Instead, the floor of the restaurant is occupied with couches, chairs and coffee tables placed here and there. No fence or barbed wire or any other discernible barrier separates one’s territory from anyone else’s. As we were sitting down with our hot chocolate, two other customers (who had been sitting very close to us) got up and walked out of the restaurant. At the coffee table immediately in front of me (same table being used by the customers who just left), I noticed that they had left most of a chocolate fondue platter (cost: about $25). It consisted of a large ceramic cup of thick and rich chocolate that is kept melted by the heat of a candle. The cup was still almost completely full. The platter included crackers, marshmallows and fruit which one dips into the overpriced yet luxuriant chocolate, then presumably eats. If you’re not insane, that is.
I was keenly aware that one of the employees of this restaurant would be walking over within minutes to take away this tray of expensive food (it had barely been touched) and then throw it into the trash can. I figured that the expensive chocolate platter didn’t belong to the restaurant anymore, since the restaurant had already sold it to the original purchasers who, in turn, had now abandoned it.
Therefore, I quietly took one of the oblong crackers and dipped it into the high-priced yet luxuriant chocolate and discovered that it was extremely pleasure-evoking. Extremely. I did it again. Then again. There was plenty of food still remaining. Therefore, I invited my young daughters to partake, and they took me up on this without any protest at all. It was chocolate and they are children. Rousseau’s philosophy in action.
Note: We were not eating half chewed crackers. Everything we touched was absolutely unspoiled and in its original placement on the overpriced platter. My wife very much wanted to partake, but she was embarrassed (though she continued, uneasily, to sit with the rest of us). All in all, my children and I probably ate about a half dozen items (each of them dipped quietly into the expensive chocolate) when an employee noticed that we were working on another customer’s (abandoned) food. I heard her say something to the other employee, who responded “He’s doing what?” Then she said “Ewwwww” and scowled at us. At this point, the first employee came over to clear away the expensive platter and throw it in the trash.
At dinner that night, I discussed this episode with some friends. The wife of a couple was somewhat put off by my behavior, whereas the husband seemed to enjoy and approve of my behavior. He assured me that chocolate fondue is maintained at a high enough temperature to burn off all known pathogens.
Here’s the logic I used. What if I I already knew the people who bought the chocolate that I ate? What if they were my long-time good friends? Would anyone have any problem with me eating their leftovers? I don’t think so. And it wouldn’t matter whether I came into the store with them or if I sat down just as they were leaving. Friends share food. What if I didn’t know the people who bought the chocolate until I sat down in the restaurant right next to them, whereupon we exchanged a few jokes first and then they offered me their leftovers because they had the run to catch a cab? Any problem here? Again, I don’t think so.
Therefore, one thing that determines what is disgusting is whether we are friends with the people who last touched the food we are about to eat. But this really doesn’t make any sense. The food is the food. Further, people with whom we are friends might be germier than random strangers. In fact, based upon their appearance, the people that frequent this pretentious mall are probably at least as likely to have good hygiene as many of the people I encounter in a typical day.
The question was then raised,” would you walk over and eat somebody’s leftover french fry?” “No, french fries are extremely cheap,” I replied.
I don’t know if this has any relevance, but I remember Steven Pinker giving a lecture at which he mentioned how we swallow our own saliva without any problem. But what if someone asked us to spit in a bowl, wait 5 seconds, then drink our own saliva. Different, eh? Disgusting! Why? Is this example even relevant to the chocolate shop–oops, chocolatier story, I wonder.
The confession is now complete. I await guidance and judgment.
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