The 18th century gastronome, Jean-Anthelme Brillat-Savarin wrote that "the true lover of food is one who has learned to go beyond mere catastrophe to salvage at least one golden moment from every meal". While it may be difficult tosmile when you've been served an abominably bad meal or when the waiter has spilled soup in the lap of your guest of honor, such occasions provide us with a marvelous source of humor.

Once, when living in Paris, gourmet food-writer Charles Beard and a group of American journalists were invited by a French colleague to an intimate dinner to be held in a small bistro famous for its simple but excellent cookery. Beard later wrote in the New York Times: "The dinner was an absolute fiasco from start to finish. Our host failed to arrive, the chef was absent because he was suffering from influenza and the waiter was depressed because he had just returned from the funeral of his mother. The lobsters were overcooked, the soup had gone sour and the lettuce was limp. The steaks were tough, the sauce had curdled and the sorbet had melted. The red wine was too cold and the white wine was too warm. No meal could have been worse. The evening ended marvelously, however, for precisely at 11 p.m. a fire started in the kitchen and by midnight the place had burned to the ground."

A fire also played a role at a dinner where Harry Cust, (described by Dame Margo Asquith as "the most brilliant young pederast that I have ever known"), was entertaining Prime Minister Arthur Balfour and sixteen other male friends. The second story of the house caught fire, but the talk was so brilliant and engrossing that no one took any notice. The meal continued while servants distributed large towels so that the diners could protect themselves against the water from the firemen's hoses.

Perhaps an even better example of British style savoir-faire was that demonstrated by Lord Granville when he was invited to dine at the country house of friends. Although Granville was somewhat taken aback to find the house ablaze on his arrival, he did not show it. "I say", he asked his hostess, who was standing on the terrace watching her house burn down, "you did say this evening, didn't you?"

There is no requirement whatever to set fire to one's house to produce gastronomic pandemonium. Essayist Sydney Smith thought particularly highly of people who could remain calm despite accidents that happened when carving large roasts or poultry. Once, when carving a partridge, his knife slipped and the lady sitting on his left was covered with gravy from head to foot. Smith commented: "Although I saw three distinct lines of brown sauce trickling down her cheek, she had the complaisance to swear that not a drop had reached her. Such circumstances are the triumphs of civilized life."

And then there are the multitude of social goofs that, if they do not actually destroy an otherwise pleasant diner, can surely turn into memorable anecdotes. England's King Edward VII and Queen Alexandra went out of their way to make their guests feel at ease. In his memoirs, royal chef Garbirel Tschumi recounts an occasion when a distinguished visitor from Polynesia was invited to dinner at Buckingham Palace. One of the dishes prepared was asparagus served with butter sauce. The visitor had never tasted them before but found them delicious. The only problem was that when he reached the hard, inedible ends of the stalks, he began throwing them over his shoulder onto the carpet. The servants gaped in dismay, but the king proved master of the situation. In order that his guest not be embarassed, the king also threw what he had not eaten over his shoulder. Within a short while, all the other diners were behaving similarly. Later when the cleaners arrived, the usually spotless carpet was a mess. Tschumi says that there were a few grumbles from those who had to remove the stains, but when the story went the rounds of the servants' quarters, there was nothing but admiration for the king's presence of mind.

Deafness was the cause of a social embarrassment at another dinner party where a royal English personage was present. Queen Mary had become particularly attached to one of her dogs and had the habit of rewarding it at the end of dinner with a dog biscuit. One evening, she asked one of her dinner guests, an American bishop, to perform the rite for her and handed him a dog-biscuit. Being somewhat deaf, he mistakenly concluded that she was bestowing upon him the British equivalent of a sheep's eye at an Arabian banquet. Not wishing to give offense, he accepted the strange favor and gallantly munched at it until it was consumed. Everyone present restrained their laughter until he had departed.

Royalty has not always demonstrated similar inhibitions. Lady Sylvia Brooke held a diner party shortly after her marriage to the then seventy-eight year old last white Rajah of Sarawak. Conversation among the guests proved difficult and there came a few minutes when silence prevailed. Then as she desperately tried to think of some fresh topic she heard a welcome sound. "How wonderful" she exclaimed. "Just listen - it's started to rain at last." To her astonishment, the guests just stared beyond her with varying expressions ranging from dismay to ill-concealed disgust. She turned and there was the old Rajah heedlessly andcontentedly urinating onto a rose bush.

Another frequent source of embarrassment at dinners, especially if too much wine has been served, comes from careless remarks, the kind that nearly everyone regrets as soon as they have been uttered. Once at a dinner at Dunraven Castle, after the ladies had gone to a separate room to take their coffee, Lord Turberville remarked to one of his guests that the "old trout" who had been seated on his right was the ugliest woman he had ever seen. The other replied "I'm sorry to hear that you think my wife so unattractive." Hastily the peer said "Oh no, sir I've made an error. I meant the lady on my left." The man frowned, and told him "Well, that was my sister". "Your sister", repeated Lord Turberville, staring hard at his guest, "then if what you have said is true, Imust confess that I've never seen such an ugly family in my life."

Some embarrassing remarks exchanged over the dinner table result from shyness. Once, at a dinner prepared by world famous chef Paul Bocuse, a young man was seated next to a particularly beautiful woman who made him so nervous that he could neither eat or talk. Presently she observed "What a small appetite you have". And he, desperate to please her with a compliment, stammered "To sit next to you would make any man lose his appetite".

Of course, some slurs are more malicious in their intent. Eva Peron, dining with General Franco at a restaurant in Madrid was accosted by several guests who waved their fists at her and shouted "Puta, Puta". Peron asked Franco: "Why do they call me a whore?" To which Franco replied, "Never mind, Senora. I've been retired for years but they still call me General."

On another occasion, Lord Alington was dining out with his wife when his former lover, actress Tallulah Bankhead, entered. As she passed, the peer hurriedly looked the other way. After a few moments, the actress, known to be completely uninhibited, left her table and going over to her former paramour, asked huskily: "What's the matter, darling. Don't you recognize me with my clothes on?"

© Daniel Rogov