As I come from a family in which no one talks to no one, I've sadly turned out just like them. I've never asked questions about this or that. I think I gave up trying to get information from them early in life, as it felt inappropriate or even wrong. Also, I would smell a lie pretty easily and they seem(ed) to have quite a taste for it. The older I get, the more I believe this lack of communication and "policy of lie" are a total disaster. It has nothing to do with being polite or unintrusive. It's not decent, it's not human, it's just sick. All I can do is look back upon my life and see the devastating consequences.
So... due to that I don't have as much information as I wish I had to process my own past. The Internet can help with dates of course, but that's about it.
What I know is that from when I was 7 or probably even younger, my parents owned/ran a restaurant. A gastronomic restaurant, with classic French dishes, four dining/meeting rooms, etc. Anything but small.
The impact on my life has been significant. I remember going there for lunch every day of the week. And for dinner, we would often get take-away dishes cooked by the half-dozen chefs working there.
From as far I can remember, as a kid I would never have breakfast. I had huge difficulties getting up in the morning, and school gave me stomachache. So breakfast would just be skipped.
Lunch was basically the main meal. I would walk from school to the restaurant around 12 and should go back there for 1:30 PM. Quite short according to my own rules. I would always feel stressed by the clock and I still have nightmares about it now, 40 years later...
We had "our" table in the back of the very large main room (about 50-60 seats maybe), close to my mother's office. There were two ways to go: either through my father's office and the huge kitchen or through the main entrance / bar/ main room. It took me several years to dare to go through the kitchen by myself. I still don't know why.
My mother used to take a short break at lunch, most of the time she was there with me. My father... he was around. Not sitting with us for long in any case. There would always be customers my parents had to talk to for ages and other annoying interruptions. Never a dull moment. God, give me a bloody dull moment!
Usually I would order from the menu. Skip the entrée 99% of the time — I had an exception for two dishes: "croustade aux champignons" and "gnocchi à la parisienne".
Regarding the main, some of the usual menu dishes would suit my hard-to-please palate, but I would expressly require some pasta or rice to replace vegetables or potatoes. And half a lemon... Whatever the dish, I needed half a lemon to put on the tiny pasta ("coquillettes", which were cooked the French way, i.e. no sauce).
If there was nothing I liked that day, I would choose "à la carte", some more expensive food on order, like a sole. With half an orange instead of lemon. Just because I could?
I would end up every meal with a couple of desserts as I've always had a die-hard sweet tooth. From "nougat glacé" to "profiteroles", desserts were always the double highlights. I still have a religious passion for them.
It baffles me that this went on for 10 years + and no one ever objected to my behaviour. I guess the waitresses must have thought I was spoiled to the core, but well... They probably saw more of me at a table than my parents themselves.
Bottom line, I resented the restaurant bitterly. Not because of the food indeed — though it was way too French to my taste — but because of the lack of quietness when eating. The loneliness. The absence. In a crowded room.
I still can't stand eating at a restaurant. The noise, the looks, the smells, the worries about "Who cooked what how?"...
Can't enjoy food in those conditions, can you? Of course YOU can!!