Dialogue: Wake up and smell the sushi and orzo

By SANDY BURGHAM

Last weekend we stayed with the most fashionable and well-designed couple we know in their trendily minimalist holiday pad.

Since they don't have kids, their general upward mobility has increased steadily as time marches on, while mine has stalled somewhat, along with any attempt to keep up with the foodie set.

Opening their double-income-no-kids fridge for the first time, my bog-standard family repertoire flashed before me like a 70s cooking show on a fast-forward loop - spaghetti bolognaise, roast chicken, barbecue sausages, pizza ... and back we go to spaghetti bolognaise.

Oh, to feast on the delights of a fridge groaning with little plastic tubs from the deli, each filled with 150gm servings of European-styled delicacies, with just the cute baby jar of vegemite tucked away at the back for emergency purposes only rather than being given pride of place.

It was the wake-up call I needed. It was time to close the food gap.

To help out others whose kids, age or finances have forced them out of food circulation for a few years, here are some simple rules of thumb to note before you burst back on the social circuit.

First, if you are served salt in coarse, flaked form, just sprinkle, don't ask for a blender.

If you see a jar of chilli or onion jam it's not to accompany tea and toast, and don't be fooled when someone asks you to bring a pasta salad - she doesn't mean macaroni she means orzo, and no, that's not a character out of Sesame Street.

Drink rules are easier to follow. You will have caught on that we don't serve beer from big bottles any more unless we are living in a student flat near Massey University.

Wine is drunk out of bottles, so don't turn up to places with half a cask or, even worse, the plastic innards which look suspiciously like a catheter bag. And, remember, it's okay to drink water - it's the new juice.

When having people for dinner, know your lettuce varieties. Icebergs should really be eaten only with close friends and family. When there is an outsider in your midst, a mesclun or rocket variety is a far preferable option.

Avoid making risotto at all costs: while you may think it conveniently comes out of instant packets, guests will have expected you to have stood in one spot stirring for 20 minutes, adding liquid one ladle full at a time at regular intervals. It's not a dish for the impatient or those with kids.

It's never too early to officially become a food snob. A woman and her private-schooled 13-year-old recounted a story of a school chum's birthday bash: "Poor Patty, her mother is so old-fashioned. You should have seen what she served up - stuff like asparagus rolls and curried eggs."

I offered that Patty's mother was so out she was in, and that retro-styled cheese and pineapple sticks had a certain fashionable charm.

"Not so," said Remuera Mum. "It's not done. Girls want trays of sushi these days."

Meanwhile, in a parallel eastern suburb some friends bemoaned an excruciating dinner party they had been invited to. When searching for vehicles to deliver their eager audience an accurate description of the evening, they found the menu the easiest way to relay their despair: "They served up one of those mayonnaise and egg salads. You know, it's actually quite yummy but I hadn't seen one in years. And the bread. Sort of big chunky loaves, like they would eat in Wellington."

"Oh no," said another, an inner-city apartmentee. "They've obviously got one of those bread makers."

My commiserations to the poor hosts, new to the eastern suburbs, who hadn't realised that the bread rules had changed. Just as they had perfected the art of making beautifully risen bread that was soft and malleable, peasant-chic had demanded that we eat our bread flat, hard, and foreign.

Surely they had noticed that toasted sandwiches had all but disappeared from their local cafes, to be replaced by the panini?

Indeed, now more than ever food selection is a key performance indicator when it comes to fashionability and style.

I know one arrogant Aucklander who refers to everyone south of the Bombay Hills as "tomato-sandwiches-with-white-bread people".

And it won't take long for the table habits of the opinion-leading foodies to trickle down to those who think they are resilient to such ludicrous and abhorrent culinary snobbery.

For these are the same folk who once mocked those who ate mouldy cheese, yoghurt, and spaghetti that hadn't been presoaked in tomato sauce.

All this brings new meaning to the adage that "you are what you eat".