SOBREMESA: A LOVE LANGUAGE
There is something magical about the buzzing sound of a busy restaurant. How many important conversations blend with trivialities, creating a scrumptious harmony with the clinking of plates, an intelligible flux of information being exchanged over food. If you were to listen closely you could find yourself hearing about businesses being created, divorces being decided, birthdays being celebrated and silences becoming palpable with noise. One can only imagine that a busy restaurant is what Earth must sound like from space.
Where I come from, we have a quaint word to describe the time spent indulging in a passionate conversation at the table after you’ve finished a meal. We call this phenomenon sobremesa. As a child, I wasn’t particularly fond of spending hours and hours listening to grown-ups debate over coffee and grappa, so I would interrupt quietly to ask my mother if I could leave the table to go out and play. She would, with her eyes still glued to the person speaking, nod at me. I knew she was patiently waiting for her turn to outrageously disagree with the speaker. My father, experienced in eloquently arguing about anything after lunch, would then, of course, contradict whatever my mother had said. Even when conversations turned into arguments, I remember a certain warmth in seeing adults picking each other’s brains, playing with the unopened sachets of brown sugar, and smelling the fresh coffee rhythmically being brought to the table to keep the conversation ignited.
It was later when I discovered the charm of bridging lunch with dinner through conversation for myself. Sobremesa, like anything else, is a skill that has to be polished with practice. Don’t be fooled though, in order to master our favourite part of a meal, the first step is to be a good listener. It gives you substance to disagree on later. Indulging in topics people often avoid is the key to elevating a sobremesa: who wouldn’t love to attend a dinner where the menu has coq au vin with a side of politics? It is rare to find a common ground in politics, the news, family feuds or sex, so, of course, when these are the go-to topics, you should expect a meal to last longer than what you booked yourself for.
Once, when I was already living in Germany, I remember going out for brunch with my Italo-Spanish friends for brunch. It was in between discussions when I engaged in a conversation with my friend Olga sitting across the table. Like in a game of musical chairs she got up and said “espera, que me siento contigo.” Meaning, someone else had to reorganize their seating plan, because she was coming to my side of the table to be able to talk with me properly. It’s interesting how within a group of people so many topics can arise simultaneously. Everyone is at liberty to drop in and out of a debate, with total freedom of choosing to join the juiciest arguments for them. Occasionally, in between the mix of sounds one can identify words that may make one’s ears react. It is normal to then turn around and drop a remark in someone else’s conversation, just like it’s completely normal (but less common) to change seats if you’re planning on having a discussion in a smaller round. This complex structure of dialogue — almost an intrecciato of different conversations occurring at the same time — can make you lose track of time, which would explain the southern tendency to meet for brunch and leave at 6pm.
Sobremesas are a love language. As an adult in training, I build connections over food. I meet for lunch knowing I will have to undo plans in the afternoon. Although this may seem like a waste of time to some, dedicating time to another person is the ultimate way of letting them know how much you appreciate them. So, as a final note to this rant, I encourage everyone who is not used to sobremesas to try surrendering to their company. Especially when you host a dinner, nothing will give you the impression of a successful soirée like hearing the last conversation of the night leave with your guests. You will hear their voices fade away down the staircase, and only when you close the door again will you feel the satisfaction of going back to silence after a perfect night.
Text: María Ramos
Photography: Junshen Wu
