Napery & Japery

Of all the unlikely topics we've been challenged to blog about,  napkins  must be right up there! At least I suppose it's somewhat seasonal, with all the ceremonious wining and dining that we pack into the last few weeks of the year. Very well, let's clear a space on the table and get stuck in.

As my source, I'm falling back on that dusty but trusted tome 'Olde Fforde's Compendium of Napery ', irrefutable fount of all good napkin knowledge. It lives in the third kitchen drawer down on the left, along with my collection of antique corkscrews. candle snuffers and napkin rings. 😉

From our friend Olde Fforde, we learn that the word napkin is a diminutive of a French word - either nape (tablecloth) or naperon (apron), take your pick - which in turn is thought to have derived from the Latin word of Carthaginian origin, mappa (square of cloth) used while dining to prevent food staining the sofas upon which Roman diners reclined (and also waved as a flag to start chariot races). Apparently the 'm' in mappa got transmuted into an 'n' as befell quite a lot of Latin words once the French got hold of them. I get the impression Olde Fforde doesn't  much like the French.

By the time it passed into Middle English, the noun naperie (which in turn became napery) was used to describe both the whole range of linen objects including sheets, tablecloths, surnaps and napkins, and the place where such items were stored in any well-appointed house. My own house is not well-appointed.

The eagles among you will have pounced on the mention of surnaps in the preceding paragraph. These were large linen squares that were placed on top of the tablecloth and used in much the same way as the Romans used mappas, to protect the tablecloth from staining. I suppose they were the fore-runners of table mats.

In some vernaculars, because napkins were placed across the lap to prevent food falling onto dresses or trousers, they also became known as lapkins.

It must be remembered that eating until relatively recent times was a fairly messy affair. Knives were commonplace and spoons too, but forks only became widespread at the dinner table in the 17th century. Before that, the use of fingers was taken for granted and napkins were used to wipe fingers as well as mouths. Quite often, fresh napkins would be supplied with each course, the soiled ones just being dropped to the floor for the servants to collect up and launder later.

However, once forks became widespread, and dining a tidier undertaking, usage of napkins declined considerably, except for grand dinners and in restaurants. I can imagine that not many homes have a stock of linen napkins anymore. Paper ones seem to be preferred, and I must confess to even resorting to a couple of squares off a roll of paper towel on occasion, Olde Fforde would turn in his gravy!

Of course there's a whole load of guff in his Compendium about etiquette, how to present napkins at the dining-table, when and how to use them, what not to do with them, how to dispose of them, but I'm not getting bogged down in any of that class ritual. (See this week's poem for my satirical take.) Nor do I normally have much time for all the fancy presentation that is part of fine dining - just give me a square of plain linen - however, because it's the festive season and I usually compile an annual Top Ten of my favourite records at year-end, I've actually decided to defer my musical plaudits until the first blog of the New Year (next week) so that I can thrill you instead with the ten favourite napkin folds of 2023, as compiled by Power Hostess Magazine. Here you go...you're welcome.

Top Ten Festive Napkin Folds

01 Christmas Tree

02 Star

03 Duchess

04 Bowtie

05 Leaf

06 Three Pocket 

07 Fan

08 Bunny Ears

09 Boat

10 Rose

Well, that's the main course done with. Napkins down (never serviettes). For pudding (never dessert), and to conclude this napery japery, here in the spirit of Kingsley Amis is my latest from the elegant dining-room of the imaginarium (and I hope it's not too rude).

Wipe That Smile Off  Your Face

I may not know you don't say Very well thank you

in response to How do you do? and it's not a toilet

but a loo, was never taught how to pass the port or

that you eat a banana with a knife and fork. At my

house we never drank Beaujolais Nouveau on that

third Thursday in November, hardly had wine ever,

no wine cellar you see. You weaponise your arrays

of silver cutlery to cut blokes like me down to size

and yes you caught me off guard with your display

of napkin etiquette all social airs and graces, but at

the end of the day lady, I'm fucking your daughter!

Thanks for reading my final fabrication of the old year. See you in 2024, S ;-)