Uncle Hasan the Elder – Part 4: "How to Eat Like a Guest, Not a Fool"

To know Uncle Hasan the Elder is to understand that eating in his presence was not just a basic biological need, it was a performance. A ceremony. A tactical mission that, if done wrong, could earn you a lecture before dessert.

I remember one family dinner vividly. I was piling food onto my plate the way any innocent, hungry guest would. That’s when I felt a large hand on my shoulder.

“Hey Boy, Come on, This is how you eat at home. You came to a guest dinner and filled your plate like a beginner!”

I froze. My first thought was: Uh-oh… what did I do? Was I too messy? Too greedy? Did I forget one of Mom’s golden rules like “Don’t talk with your mouth full” or “Don’t lick your fingers like a barbarian”?

But no, Uncle Hasan had his own rules. His own… system.

“Come,” he said, pulling me aside like a military general about to reveal a classified strategy. “Let me show you where you went wrong.”

- Rule number one:

“Don’t fill yourself up with rice and bread. That’s for when you’re eating at home and the fridge is empty. Here, the host is paying. Focus on the good stuff, protein and vitamins. Eat meat, fish, and whatever costs money.”

I nodded like I was taking notes.

- Rule number two:

“Why are you eating cucumber? Are you poor? Your dad can buy cucumber. You can have it always at your home. Eat the special fruit, the kind your mom doesn’t buy unless someone graduates or gets engaged. Go for the cherries, the pineapple, the fancy stuff.”

I had never felt so guilty about a slice of cucumber in my life.

- Rule number three:

“Eat from things that are shared by the whole table — the desserts, the salad, the jello. Because those things run out. If you wait too long, someone else will take your share. No one is stealing from your plate — but that bowl of saffron rice in the middle? That’s a battlefield.”

He made a good point.

- Rule number four:

“Save your favorite dish for the end. Don’t be a rookie. If you like kebab, eat the chicken first. No bread. No rice. Then, for your final bite, take a big piece of kebab — chew slowly. That’s the taste your brain will remember. That’s what your stomach will dream about later.”

The man was basically a food psychologist.

- Rule number five:

“Why did you eat lunch? You knew we were invited to dinner! Why would anyone eat a full lunch before going to a feast? Who raised you? What are you thinking?”

I muttered something about not knowing how much food there would be. He shook his head in disappointment, like I had committed a national disgrace.

“Fine. Try to fix it. Drink some soda. Eat something sour. Open your stomach. And for heaven’s sake”

He lowered his voice and looked around before whispering:

“Why is your belt still tight? You came to a dinner party in tight clothes? Rookie mistake! Loosen your belt. Wear loose clothes. The stomach needs space, boy!”

That’s when he gave me a little slap on the back and said, “Now go. Try again. And next time, come prepared.”

Since that day, I’ve never looked at a buffet the same way. I hear his voice every time I reach for bread too early or fill my plate with lettuce. At every party, someone inevitably quotes him before taking the last piece of meat:

“Remember what Uncle Hasan said, eat like you mean it. You might not get another round!”