Bizarre Fine-Dining Etiquette Rules To Know

Finding it hard to pick up the pheasant feather quill pen and dash off a courteous "répondez s'il vous plaît" for a soirée au supper? No, of course you're not. Because the fine-dining of modern times leans more toward thumbs-up'd texts, delivery, BYOB, and spending too long choosing between buzzy streaming docs. But today, get ready for pinkies out.

What dining society may have lost in "sense of occasion" can be made up for in stone cold knowledge about aspirational etiquette... that you can at least use as a conversation starter, if you don't need it IRL. But while these puffed-up propositions for proper procedure may seem bizarre, there might be a few tips you can revamp for the drive-thru, the sofa, or your bed (no judging).

Oddly, "Pass the Grey Poupon," calling a McDonald's Quarter Pounder a "Le Royal Cheese," or serving your cat's wet food in a crystal goblet aren't included in fine dining etiquette (let this be a learning moment, Fluffy). But if you want to pull out all the stops, here are a few highly refined manners you can — nay, must — implement post-haste.

Of course, spending an entire dinner with mustard creased into the corner of your mouth is appetizing to no one. But a bit of care should be taken as you gracefully maneuver the napkin from your lap to your pie hole. Never, ever — for any reason whatsoever in all of time and space — wipe your mouth with your napkin. Seemingly calling forth the most popular hip-hop dance move of 2015, you shall dab. Not the arms kind, though — the napkin kind. 

Obviously, proper napkin etiquette assumes you're not attempting to remove a milk, Kool-Aid, or full-circumference popsicle mustache, and are instead merely touching-up the scene of the crime. The gentle pat is done to prevent unsightly smears from moving across your face. Fold, dab, dab, repeat.

You've gently dabbed the demi-glace from your mouth, but don't stop patting now. Keep your lip balm and acceptably buttery bread fingers to yourself by giving your lips and hands a quick once-over before grabbing for your drink. This is all in the name of making an impact without ever leaving a lasting impression (on the glassware).

Simply wipe any moisture from your hands before grasping the stem of your wine or Champagne flute (no higher, or you risk getting crime scene-y handprints on the goblet). For full lip service, a quick napkin pat removes any excess grease or oily residue left by your food, and keeps the rim of your drinkware lookin' brand spankin' new.

If you've ever taken a swig from your coupe glass only to discover that your lip gloss had transferred from your face to your drink, here's another tip for you: While there may be no avoiding an initial lip mark, you can keep it chic and cute with a mindful strategy of drinking from the same spot every time (leaving only one lip imprint). And while you're at it, always return your drinking glass to the same position from whence you retrieved it.

No, no — this is not merely a suggestion. It's a matter of good manners to never request a substitution for your meal. No asking if you can get it grilled, no ordering it plain, no fries instead, and no asking if there's a rogue bottle of ketchup back there somewhere. You eat what's on your plate like it's the last meal of your life (and the award for most convincing dinner guest goes to...).

There is, of course, a caveat here for actual allergies and health concerns. If you are allergic to a food, by all means, please — definitely — alert the waitstaff. Even the most decorated Michelin-ish celebrity chef will gladly accommodate your needs.

But the rest of you, who just, like, don't really feel like eating yet another gold-leafed, caviar-studded, truffle-sprinkled deviled egg (le sigh), suck it up and keep your opinions to yourself. Your meal has been poured over by culinary professionals and creative geniuses, dead set on delighting you with a full-throttle experience. Lean into their vision for the next two hours of your life, and enjoy every bite along the way.

Don't be that person. Don't just witness food arrive at your table, reach for the salt shaker, and make it rain. Proper fine-dining etiquette suggests that you taste your dish first, before seasoning it as you see fit. No word on whether this can involve ranch dressing from home, but probs not.

Not only is it impossible to know how much salt may already be present in a dish, it's also commonly presumed that each course comes from the kitchen (and the mind of a chef), ready to eat, not still needing finessing. That being said, every diner has their own tolerance and preference for seasonings, so a taste-test lets you know how far you want to go on sodium.

Need a little game-time guidance? If you see salt and pepper shakers somewhere on the table, chances are that a little DIY seasoning lands within the realm of acceptable society at that particular restaurant. While it might be less expected for you to add salt at more upscale dining establishments, a quick, polite chat with the waitstaff might land you a personal salt cellar on the side.

You can abide by the cultural differences in showing that your meal is over, but if your napkin's over there telling its own story, your message might get muddled. Wrap up your meal loud and clear by gently folding your napkin and placing it to the left of your plate. Dinner. Is. Done.

Your napkin functions like a flag marshal at NASCAR, signaling what the heck you're up to, without saying a word. Napkin on your lap: Currently eating. Napkin on your chair: Potty break. But in order to have your used plates, utensils, and crumbs cleared in a timely manner, you've got to stick the landing on the left of your plate.

Unless you've gone all-white for your meal with a white Russian, chicken Alfredo, and plain mashed potatoes, a white linen napkin might read like a painter's palette, dappled with the rainbow colors of your meal. But if that's the case, no stress. Simply fold it to a side where there isn't any food on it. Just spitballing, but a napkin folded like a cruise ship towel swan signals that you're ready to order the chocolate soufflé, right?

Awkward. In the age of individual checks and mobile banking, an evenly-split check likely sparks some kind of emotional response, depending on whether you're the person who ordered the three-martini lobster thermidor app, or the one who just ordered water. But an upscale, multi-course meal requires that the bill be split in an equal, civilized manner. But don't worry — there's some built-in wiggle room here.

High-end dining (think VIP chef's tables in off-hours kitchens, or private tastings for parties of 10) asks that you divide the bill equally among those who shared the adventure. In less-exclusive settings, it's also usually okay to split the bill — or simply say no to an invite that's not in your budget. Either way, you should come to an agreement with the rest of your party as soon as you arrive at your table (or before). Coming to an agreement before you even order ensures there's no awkwardness at the end of what was an enjoyable meal.

You don't have to memorize the entire catalogue of French food terminology, or pretend you dropped your napkin just so you can secretly ask your phone if you should get béarnaise sauce with "le boeuf," or whether Mary had a little "agneau." It's perfectly acceptable to ask your server a question about the menu, so you can confidently order your meal (and not be stuck sending back a protein with a fancy name that you were too embarrassed to clarify).

As long as the restaurant isn't experiencing an all-hands-on-deck-style dinner rush, your interaction with the food — and interest in its making — is likely welcome and encouraged. If you do end up face to face with a dish that just doesn't spark joy, a discreet mention to the waitstaff, along with some specific ideas on what you had hoped for, should solve the problem. After all, satisfied customers leave way better tips.

There's the Hollywood movie trope of calling "Garçon!" the second a diner discovers they are in dire need of anything. Who is this garçon? In French, it means "boy," but in American pop culture, it has come to mean "server" — or... something. Either way, this example of archaic restaurant etiquette is no way to summon assistance. To get the attention of the waitstaff (who were probably already on the case on your behalf), simply make polite eye contact and help will be on the way.

If a knowing glance proves to be an impossible task, you may then move to the use of a respectful finger or two (go for the index finger over the middle one), raised in the air just long enough to catch the attention of the friendly staff. No snapping, no clapping, no waving, no come-hither finger flirting, no miming the reeling in of a fish, and definitely no yelling in your gym teacher voice.

In the case of a fabulous dinner out, it might seem like it's only fitting to toast the host with the most, a milestone birthday, or just the fact that everyone's schedules finally aligned, by raising a glass and clinking it in succession with all the others at the table. Cheers to the freakin' weekend, baby! Except don't do that. Toasting? Good. Clinking? Bad.

The reason for this party-pooh-poohing is twofold: For one, high-end dining is all about discretion, the murmur of flowing conversation, and the gentle ping of silverware — not extra clanging and other booze-fueled sound effects. That DJ air horn "bup-bup-berrrrrrrr" comes to mind. So fine. So dining.

Secondly, two Champagne flutes colliding mid-air could actually damage the delicate structure of the vessel and crack it. Instead, follow cocktail etiquette by simply raising your glass in the direction of the person giving the toast — and don't forget to make polite eye contact with your fellow guests, post air-cheers.

Even if you've ordered the sauciest, melted-cheesiest dish, the very edge of your plate should forever remain spotlessly clean. That goes double for anything that might be soupy or easily spilled and dribbled.

If you're accustomed to resting a used steak knife, butter knife, or jammy spoon along the edge of your plate, you might be thinking to yourself, "What's the big deal?" This thoughtful practice is designed to show respect to restaurant staff who will, at some point, be grasping your plate by that very rim in order to clear it from the table. Would you want to press your thumb into someone else's sticky, semi-eaten food? No. And neither does anyone else. It might feel like secret restaurant plate etiquette, but keeping a clean margin along your plate edge portrays a small gesture of gratitude for the chance to experience world class table service.

There are plenty of instances where you might need to step away from dinner for a moment. But instead of telling everyone that you've gotta pee like a racehorse, just excuse yourself and go. Do you think Superman announced that he was getting up to go to the phone booth? No, he did not.

Unless you're at a gathering of proctologists, it's not typically seen as polite dinner conversation to discuss the finer points of digestion. But even for cuter reasons — like reapplying lip balm — no one needs to be left at the table imagining anything about your trip to the loo. An easy-to-remember rule of thumb is to avoid saying any variation on the word "bathroom." Tapping into the unique dining etiquette of the English, use that earlier tip mentioned and place your napkin on your chair, then leave. What happens in the bathroom stays in the bathroom.

Got an olive pit that needs a home? Leave it in the upper left corner of your dinner plate. This mini scrap pile serves as a catch-all for citrus rinds, stems, and leafy garnish, as well as cancelled plans, forgotten gym memberships, and overdue library books.

It's also perfectly okay to leave any tough, chewy bits there, too. Yeah, it's right there in the open, but this spot is actually preferred over stuffing them in your napkin, or anywhere else. Especially if you're at a cloth napkin establishment, everyone involved would rather have your food in an easily scrape-able spot like your plate, rather than stuck on a napkin.

Unless it naturally flows from your mouth as if you've said it a million times (or you are — without a doubt — French) it can be a bit cheesy to declare "Bon appétit" to signal the start of the meal. It's seen as being overeager about the meal, and it's not proper.

Of course, "Dig in!" "Eat up!" and "Last one's a rotten egg!" also fall under the same umbrella. If you must announce something, the contemporary "Please enjoy" serves the purpose. That said, not everyone holds a distaste for the iconic turn of phrase. As French language expert Géraldine Lepère writes on her "Comme Une Française," blog, "Please, keep saying 'Bon appétit!' at the beginning of a meal — it's the signal that the meal can start, that you're all ready to eat." If someone says it to you, feel free to respond with the gracious "Merci," or another "Bon appétit" if the well-wisher is also dining with you.

As you enjoy your veritable feast for the eyes, don't forget to look around because a successful meal relies all on the timing. Just as you shouldn't start eating before the host, you should never polish off your dish before everyone's done eating.

This is a courtesy you extend your fellow diners so no one feels pressured into snarfing down their beef Wellington. Even for the foodiest of foodies, the meal must always play second fiddle to the pure pleasure of good company. Take small bites so you never have to talk with a mouthful of food, and ask questions of others to keep the vibe flowing. If all goes well, everyone will be ready for that dessert tray that's been making the rounds at roughly the same time.

If you grew up in the 1980s with the clean plate club, look away. In fine dining, eating your way to a spotless plate doesn't mean you get to watch T.V., stay up late, or crack open the new box of Fudgsicles. Instead, it conveys the message that you're still hungry and on the hunt for more food. Proper manners ask that you leave a single bite on your plate no matter how desperately you want to polish off the rest of your steak Diane.

On the flip side, there's no required eating contest forcing anyone to chow down to get to that single, perfect bite. Just enjoy your meal until you're feeling satisfied. If you can swing it, that last remaining bite serves as a little thank you note that tells your host or the chef that you loved every bit of your meal, and wouldn't dream of a morsel more. Now go treat yourself to rezzies at that upscale spot everyone's been talking about. Bon appétit (you know, metaphorically).