Don't Waste (or The Inner Accountant in Every Chinese )
Perhaps the most formative experience a young Chinese lad or lass will have is over the dinner table. At one point or another-- rather, on numerous, uncountable occasions over every meal--, their parents, their siblings, or relatives would have pointed to a sadly languishing meal left half eaten, and angrily shrill in a horrified admonishing tone, "不要浪费！(bu yao lang fei)", or "Don't waste!", burning in their minds the fierce and unyielding cardinal rule to never ever waste food. Never. Ever. Well, as much as humanly possible, anyway. It is a lesson that is so conditioned into me that I still can't bring myself to waste anything, not even the decorative pieces of twirled cucumber slices or the soggy wilted lettuce leaves left as the last brave souls lying prone upon the battlefield of my plate. Not finish my plate? You must be kidding me. Hell, I'll even finish your plate if you're not careful! Many a time, I've found myself eying my dinner companion's cold leftover fries, their half-eaten burger or steak, their carefully whittled slivers of gristle and fat (yes, I'll go that far), or their little corner of pasta that may have been just a little too salty or peppery, or may have had a little too much butter or wine in an otherwise palatable white sauce, or may just have been left unfinished to leave room for desert… and as the conversation around me would continue, the food on their plate would beckon louder and louder to me, until I'd finally crack and ask my surprised companions whether I can finish their meal. I really can't help it. As long as the food isn't downright rotting or absolutely inedible, I will do my utmost to finish any meal, even though in the eyes of many of my repulsed Western friends, I appear to be a half-starved scavenging refugee.
Fortunately, here in China, I'm no longer the only wacko hard-wired to avoid wasting food. Just yesterday, Xiaopang was systematically picking out all the green peppers from his lunch, apparently because they were slightly overdone and no longer suited his always difficult taste buds. All at once, my colleagues practically fell over each other to rescue the poor discarded peppers, evenly dividing them among themselves, but also making sure that Xiaopang would not be left hungry, by replacing the peppers with another veggie that Xiaopang would eat. In the same vein, my figure-conscious female colleagues usually give me a huge chunk of their rice, claiming to be trying to slim down by going easy on carbs; however, if I or any of my male colleagues don't want the rice, they would still heroically force themselves to finish it, rather than see it thrown away. Quite simply, neither I, nor any Chinese person I've met, can bring themselves to waste food. The mere thought of consciously wasting food that could easily be given to someone else or saved for another day, just boggles the Chinese mind. It's food! You're throwing food away??! But…but… but… it's FOOD! And, if a Chinese person did ultimately have to toss something away, because this time, after several rounds of asking, no one has the room for it, or because the food really did go off, they'd drop it in the garbage in the same tragic, sorrowful way a captain would bid farewell to their sinking ship, and with a scornful twisted expression on their face, they'd mutter, "浪费 (lang fei)", or "What a waste."
Chinese people's obsession with making every scrap of food count is deeply rooted in China 's perpetual battle with limited resources. As large as China has been, the population has always somehow been slightly larger, constantly leaving the country on the brink of disastrous famines, frequently initiated by chronic flooding or droughts in the most important food producing areas. In fact, especially bad famines tended to trigger major social upheavals-- if not minor rebellions, then flat out civil wars and an entire dynasty changes--, leaving Chinese people with the strong association of food security to stability and peace. Not surprisingly, the importance of food and therefore the importance of never wasting it progressively became ingrained into Chinese culture. Eventually, this abhorrence of waste came to apply to not only food, but to all things, especially anything that involves money, should it be the itty-bittiest purchase of a cheapo ticket, or a major investment, like a house, a kid, or a university degree. In a very real sense, no Chinese person is complete without an ever-calculating accountant their head, constantly wondering if they're getting the best deal, if they're getting the most out of what they bought, and most especially if whatever that's theirs has not descended into the terrible, constantly to be avoided label, 浪费. But, again, as I've mentioned before, this is not to say that Chinese people aren't wasteful. If it ain't theirs or if don't come off the sweat of their backs, they'd never think twice about taking advantage of someone else's resources, and wasting anything with wild abandon. Anything, that is, except food. That's would be just plained wrong.
There is only one situation when not finishing the food on the dinner table is acceptable: when people are eating out or have been invited to someone's home. In that case, the host purposefully prepared or ordered one or two dishes too many to make sure that all the guests would not possibly leave hungry, and they would certainly have had their share. Actually, this raises another label to be avoided at all costs, 过分 (guo fen), that is, to exceed one's share. The concept of one's share and one's portion is extremely important to Chinese people, and intimately related to the avoiding waste. Again, I suspect that the importance of obtaining or giving the proper share also finds its origins in China's historic resource limitations, as the only way to maintain some degree of social harmony was to make sure that everyone would get their fair share rather than be gypped… which helps explain why my colleagues made a point of replacing whatever they took from Xiaopang with something of theirs. However, where浪费 is used to describe the potential waste of an object or of something that has been paid for with hard-earned cash, 过分 is used to describe someone's inappropriate behaviour. Often, you can hear it used to admonish overly petulant children, or, when in private company, you might hear it uttered through clenched teeth and lips curled in disgust to describe some vulgar boor. Indeed, for Chinese, it is probably one of the most insulting things to be called, as it implies not only that the person is ill-mannered, but that their family is so inept and irresponsible that they would raise an uncivilized spawn who barbarously tumbles through decent society like a rabid beast in heat.
Of course, making sure that one doesn't overstep their bounds or dips into someone else's territory is the basis of all politeness, but with Chinese folks, the practice of it can sometimes get a little baffling, where occasionally saying one thing may actually mean the opposite, or may require a well-rehearsed and established response. For instance, during dinner invitations or when hosting people in general, courtesy tends to be expressed by the host going to extreme lengths to offer the guest much much more than necessary, where the proper response is not to gorge yourself to your heart's content, but to politely refuse, and insist the opposite, leading to an oft-repeated see-sawing dance, which eventually settles and leaves all parties with what they're entitled to, and with the satisfaction that they went through all the proper motions. Then, as a properly behaved guest, you're supposed to eat enough to show that the meal is good, but not too much to avoid overstepping your bounds and taking advantage of the host's hospitality. Viewed in that light, leaving food unfinished is the polite way of saying that the host was more than generous, and that really, it's bloody high time the host stopped constantly trying to offer something else, when they don't really mean it. Well, yes, to certain extent they do want you to be full, but no, they clearly don't want you to eat them into the poor house. So really, when, at the end of a highly satisfying meal, the host keeps on saying, "Eat! Eat! Eat!" they're really saying, "Tell me you're full already, so we can stop this dance and chill out over some tea." Don't worry, it's not that complicated. Just never be the first to dig into anything, follow what everyone else does, and you should be fine.
Hence, every Chinese person's inner accountant tends to be busy pulling double-duties, not only constantly calculating how best to get the most bang out of their buck, by never wasting the bits of flesh clinging to the most pitiful of apple cores, or even the slimiest of left-over juices at the bottom of a dish that can be easily poured over their last rice, but also always updating a complicated balance book that keeps track of what they may owe to whom, or when it may be their turn to treat people to dinner. Maybe this is why many Asians are so good at math!
Fortunately, here in China, I'm no longer the only wacko hard-wired to avoid wasting food. Just yesterday, Xiaopang was systematically picking out all the green peppers from his lunch, apparently because they were slightly overdone and no longer suited his always difficult taste buds. All at once, my colleagues practically fell over each other to rescue the poor discarded peppers, evenly dividing them among themselves, but also making sure that Xiaopang would not be left hungry, by replacing the peppers with another veggie that Xiaopang would eat. In the same vein, my figure-conscious female colleagues usually give me a huge chunk of their rice, claiming to be trying to slim down by going easy on carbs; however, if I or any of my male colleagues don't want the rice, they would still heroically force themselves to finish it, rather than see it thrown away. Quite simply, neither I, nor any Chinese person I've met, can bring themselves to waste food. The mere thought of consciously wasting food that could easily be given to someone else or saved for another day, just boggles the Chinese mind. It's food! You're throwing food away??! But…but… but… it's FOOD! And, if a Chinese person did ultimately have to toss something away, because this time, after several rounds of asking, no one has the room for it, or because the food really did go off, they'd drop it in the garbage in the same tragic, sorrowful way a captain would bid farewell to their sinking ship, and with a scornful twisted expression on their face, they'd mutter, "浪费 (lang fei)", or "What a waste."
Chinese people's obsession with making every scrap of food count is deeply rooted in China 's perpetual battle with limited resources. As large as China has been, the population has always somehow been slightly larger, constantly leaving the country on the brink of disastrous famines, frequently initiated by chronic flooding or droughts in the most important food producing areas. In fact, especially bad famines tended to trigger major social upheavals-- if not minor rebellions, then flat out civil wars and an entire dynasty changes--, leaving Chinese people with the strong association of food security to stability and peace. Not surprisingly, the importance of food and therefore the importance of never wasting it progressively became ingrained into Chinese culture. Eventually, this abhorrence of waste came to apply to not only food, but to all things, especially anything that involves money, should it be the itty-bittiest purchase of a cheapo ticket, or a major investment, like a house, a kid, or a university degree. In a very real sense, no Chinese person is complete without an ever-calculating accountant their head, constantly wondering if they're getting the best deal, if they're getting the most out of what they bought, and most especially if whatever that's theirs has not descended into the terrible, constantly to be avoided label, 浪费. But, again, as I've mentioned before, this is not to say that Chinese people aren't wasteful. If it ain't theirs or if don't come off the sweat of their backs, they'd never think twice about taking advantage of someone else's resources, and wasting anything with wild abandon. Anything, that is, except food. That's would be just plained wrong.
There is only one situation when not finishing the food on the dinner table is acceptable: when people are eating out or have been invited to someone's home. In that case, the host purposefully prepared or ordered one or two dishes too many to make sure that all the guests would not possibly leave hungry, and they would certainly have had their share. Actually, this raises another label to be avoided at all costs, 过分 (guo fen), that is, to exceed one's share. The concept of one's share and one's portion is extremely important to Chinese people, and intimately related to the avoiding waste. Again, I suspect that the importance of obtaining or giving the proper share also finds its origins in China's historic resource limitations, as the only way to maintain some degree of social harmony was to make sure that everyone would get their fair share rather than be gypped… which helps explain why my colleagues made a point of replacing whatever they took from Xiaopang with something of theirs. However, where浪费 is used to describe the potential waste of an object or of something that has been paid for with hard-earned cash, 过分 is used to describe someone's inappropriate behaviour. Often, you can hear it used to admonish overly petulant children, or, when in private company, you might hear it uttered through clenched teeth and lips curled in disgust to describe some vulgar boor. Indeed, for Chinese, it is probably one of the most insulting things to be called, as it implies not only that the person is ill-mannered, but that their family is so inept and irresponsible that they would raise an uncivilized spawn who barbarously tumbles through decent society like a rabid beast in heat.
Of course, making sure that one doesn't overstep their bounds or dips into someone else's territory is the basis of all politeness, but with Chinese folks, the practice of it can sometimes get a little baffling, where occasionally saying one thing may actually mean the opposite, or may require a well-rehearsed and established response. For instance, during dinner invitations or when hosting people in general, courtesy tends to be expressed by the host going to extreme lengths to offer the guest much much more than necessary, where the proper response is not to gorge yourself to your heart's content, but to politely refuse, and insist the opposite, leading to an oft-repeated see-sawing dance, which eventually settles and leaves all parties with what they're entitled to, and with the satisfaction that they went through all the proper motions. Then, as a properly behaved guest, you're supposed to eat enough to show that the meal is good, but not too much to avoid overstepping your bounds and taking advantage of the host's hospitality. Viewed in that light, leaving food unfinished is the polite way of saying that the host was more than generous, and that really, it's bloody high time the host stopped constantly trying to offer something else, when they don't really mean it. Well, yes, to certain extent they do want you to be full, but no, they clearly don't want you to eat them into the poor house. So really, when, at the end of a highly satisfying meal, the host keeps on saying, "Eat! Eat! Eat!" they're really saying, "Tell me you're full already, so we can stop this dance and chill out over some tea." Don't worry, it's not that complicated. Just never be the first to dig into anything, follow what everyone else does, and you should be fine.
Hence, every Chinese person's inner accountant tends to be busy pulling double-duties, not only constantly calculating how best to get the most bang out of their buck, by never wasting the bits of flesh clinging to the most pitiful of apple cores, or even the slimiest of left-over juices at the bottom of a dish that can be easily poured over their last rice, but also always updating a complicated balance book that keeps track of what they may owe to whom, or when it may be their turn to treat people to dinner. Maybe this is why many Asians are so good at math!
posted by OpenHandsTwinklingEyes at 6:37 PM
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