One of the good things about hitting the fourth decade is the sorting out of the ‘life team’.
A ‘life team’ is made up of, say, a mechanic, an electrician, a plumber, a plasterer, a painter, a greengrocer, a hairdresser, a cheese counter chap who knows his cheese, a fishmonger, a doctor who over the years becomes a friend, and so on. You spend the years between the ages of 20 and 40 meeting and testing potential ‘team’ people. Ah, the horror stories, the disappointments, the unwanted mullet hair.
By 40 you’d have more or less sorted out your ‘life team’; you can pick up the phone and at the other end the mechanic/plasterer/greengrocer/hairdresser will recognise the panic in your voice and reassure you that there’ll be a solution.
One of the recent additions to my ‘life team’ is a butcher. It was never really on the list because the daughter and I don’t eat meat. The Significant Other also doesn’t eat meat, but it so happens that the step-sons are, ahem, quite the carnivores.
And this is how every month is now marked by a trip to the butcher – a small shop in Naxxar run by the most hardworking and courteous of brothers, trained in the meat business by their father and their grandmother.
From their little shop they quietly observe the changing shape of Maltese society; it is interesting to note how meat consumption reflects the patterns of the family dynamic. Today, meat consumers buy much less meat than they did 20 years ago, and cheaper meat cuts – which require slow cooking – have gone completely out of favour because kitchen time has shrunk.
The butchers told me how even traditional holidays previously considered to be “tal-ġabra tal-familja” – when the extended family gets together in a relative’s home, such as Mother’s Day and Christmas, have turned into let’s-head-to-a-restaurant events.
Is it because we’re still suffering from the starving repercussions of World War II?
Incidentally the same day I had this conversation with my butchers, the Times of Malta ran an article about how much Maltese people spend on eating out. Compared to all other EU countries, Maltese people are the biggest spenders on eating out (and taking weekend breaks in hotels): Eurostat data showed that last year, 20 per cent of families’ expenses consisted of meals at restaurants and hotel stays. This contrasts starkly with the majority of the other Europeans – who use up only eight per cent of their salaries on eating out.
The statistics show clearly that eating out is the Maltese man’s heftiest expense. We spend considerably much less on food and (non-alcoholic) drinks – only 12 per cent; we spend another 12 per cent on transport; 10 per cent on recreational activities; and five per cent on buying clothes and footwear.
I am trying to fathom why this eating out business (and hotel weekend breaks) is so important to us. Is it because we love food? Is it because we like dressing up? Is it because we like being served? Is it because we’re still suffering from the starving repercussions of World War II?
Perhaps you can enlighten me. Eating out regularly would be my worst nightmare. At the end of the day I like nothing more than have dinner in my pyjamas. I want to be able to chat to the family about my day, without the people at the table next to me eavesdropping or a waiter interrupting me. After, with a full belly, I want to plod 10 steps and flop on the sofa until it’s time for bed.
If I could afford to spend 20 per cent of the family budget on ready-made food (which I don’t, even though it’s l-aqwa żmien), I would rather use the money to add amazing chefs to my ‘life team’ so that they come and cook at home.
It seems that it’s not only the eating patterns that are changing, even giving birth is. Ben and Kristina Camilleri had a baby recently. You’re bound to know Ben Camilleri – he’s the guy with a six-pack who’s all over Facebook and Maltese television, Malta’s male equivalent of Kim Kardashian.
Anyway, we’d be forgiven for thinking it’s the most important birth since, well, Christmas of 2,018 years ago. The Camilleri labour and birth was phone-documented in great detail and shared online so that now everyone knows that Kristina’s water breaking “felt like pipi”.
In the ‘Welcome to the World’ video, not unlike The Truman Show, the parents thanked all the sponsors for the baby equipment, the health minister for having great midwives at hospital and the Prime Minister for sending flowers. We also saw the wee baby girl being given a bath, and the baby sleeping on a topless Ben Camille, thereby setting a trend for all newbie papas who from now on have to strip while their wife is recovering from labour, to take a pic in the nude with their newborn.
I don’t have midwives or flowers or baby equipment to give to the Camilleris. My business is words and therefore can only dish out a piece of boring advice taken straight out of the original Christmas story: Joseph and Mary hid baby Jesus from the limelight till he was of age and could decide for himself to go public.
Merry Christmas.
krischetcuti@gmail.com
Twitter: @krischetcuti
This is a Times of Malta print opinion piece