Sharing food can be a heartwarming sight: a sign of two people growing close to each other. If we’re having sex I don’t mind sharing food with you. If you’re one of my friends with a long, twirly mustache, however, please get the fuck out of here. I do not want to share food with you.
I’ve got rules about sharing, though, and every food is different. Some foods are meant to be a group experience, and some are decidedly a solo adventure. Here is a list of foods that I never want to share with another human being.
I once saw two people split a bowl of clam chowder, and sometimes I scream myself awake thinking about it. Two spoons, two people, a bowl in the middle—and a trail of chowder dots in between the bowl and each person because they weren’t eating directly over the soup. The table had the same symmetry as a public bathroom after some drunk idiot stood four feet away from the urinal on St. Paddy’s Day. Anyone who ever suggests “Let’s split a bowl of clam chowder!” should immediately be ostracized from society and launched into space. Just order two cups of soup! This category includes other foods that come in bowls, such as pho (which adds drippy noodles to this shared nightmare) and cereal (what travesty occurred with your bowls that you need to share cereal?).
Sharing a milkshake? A symbol of young, adorable love. Sharing an ice cream cone? Deviant. It’s the behavior of two people who have likely murdered together and will murder again.
There’s also something overtly sexual about sharing an ice cream cone. I don’t want to have to shield my nephew’s eyes the next time I take him to Dairy Queen.
Cake? Great. Sundaes? Perfect. Ice cream cones are maybe the only form of dessert that doesn’t work as a shared experience.
I guess, technically speaking, you could share a hot dog with somebody. You could ask your server to cut a hot dog in half and then share it with your sponsor. But, also, get your own hot dog? I just can’t imagine why anybody would need to “take a small bite of your hot dog.”
If you’re at a gourmet hot dog joint and your group orders one of every variety of hot dog like it’s a grand tasting menu experience, then sharing (via slicing) would make sense. In fact, that’s not a bad idea. I’m going to write that down.
There’s never a situation where you should be splitting a burger. Regular sandwiches are easy to cut in half. Hell, turkey clubs pretty much already come split and ready to go, an easy share. But a burger? There’s too much terrain, too many things slip-sliding around beneath the bun. If I take a bite of a burger and then hand it off it to you, there’s so much I have to explain first. No! Hold it like this! No, you’re ruining it!
Recently, I had to share a monstrous burger with multiple other people at a restaurant, and the server handed us a barely sharp steak knife to cut it. The tomato and condiments slid right out and the juice from the ground meat flooded the plate and the bottom bun. I looked like a fool! Burgers and hot dogs are solo endeavors.
A person who asks “Can I have a bite of your [unsliced] apple?” is a person canceled.
Forget about the two adorable cartoon dogs for a second. Sharing the same bowl of spaghetti is insane. Family-style spaghetti sucks, okay? When I have friends over for dinner and I’m serving spaghetti, I get a large pair of tongs and compose a separate bowl for each of them. Every bowl has its own freshly grated Parmigiano Reggiano, a little bit of fresh basil or parsley, and a hit of EVOO. We’re adults, not the kids from the movie Hook starting a food fight. There’s also no need for two people to be twirling around forks in the same bowl, flinging red sauce all over the table. Don’t make a mess if you don’t have to, you feel me?
Eating a baked potato is already like conducting your own personal autopsy, so I’m not sure why you would ever share one of these. A potato costs, what, 30 cents? I’m not saying it’s an impossible item to share—baked potatoes aren’t that messy—but imagine watching two people sharing a single baked potato like a piece of cake. What are they hiding? Why are they grinning and whispering? Why do they think baked potatoes are such a delicacy? I don’t know, man. I don’t like it. If you see two people sharing a baked potato, run.
Tacos are already so small. Hey, can I take a bite of your taco? Whoops, I ate the whole taco. There’s no reason you’d ever need to take a bite of somebody else’s taco—there are almost always two or more tacos per meal.
Eggs are deeply personal. Imagine cutting open an over-easy egg, the yolk spilling perfectly onto your plate, flowing onto your breakfast sides. Now imagine lifting a piece of egg white smeared with yellow ooze directly to your partner’s mouth. Try this, honey! Jesus. I’m sick thinking about it. Eggs are your social security number—keep ’em to yourself.
We need to quarantine people who share the same piece of gum. It’s not safe to have them roaming the streets.
You got any food-sharing hangups? Let me know.