The Table I Grew Up At

I grew up in Romania where my parents always had people over for dinner. It was rarely just the family. Neighbours stopped in. Friends brought friends. Someone's cousin would appear unexpectedly and somehow there was always room.

And one way or another, a platter would show up.

Nobody announced it. It was simply how a full table got fed: everything in the middle, everyone reaching.

There might be grilled sausages, steak, pickles, stuffed tomatoes, cabbage rolls, fresh bread, fried potatoes, mustard, and whatever else had been cooked that day. Romanian meals have always been generous that way. The table was built to be shared, not portioned. Mici, the country's famous grilled sausages, rarely arrived alone. They were surrounded by plates and bowls meant for everyone.

What I remember most is the smell.

Wood smoke coming through an open window. Garlic on the grill. Bread being torn apart instead of sliced. The sound of people talking over one another because nobody waited their turn.

As a kid, I did not think of it as tradition.

It was just dinner.

What Stayed

I've cooked in a lot of kitchens since then.

Fine dining teaches precision. Every plate is arranged exactly as intended. Every component has a place.

But somewhere along the way I realized that some of the meals people remember most are the ones where everyone shared from the same table.

When Christina and I opened Gems, Fridays became platter night almost without discussion.

The platter we serve now is more refined than anything I ate growing up. There is a house-made terrine, smoked duck, slow-cooked ribeye, charcuterie, accompaniments prepared over several days, and details my younger self would never have imagined.

But the idea has not moved.

Good food, more than one kind, set down where everyone can reach it.

Why Platters Matter

A platter changes the mood of a table.

People talk more. They pass things back and forth. They compare favourites. Someone reaches for the last slice of steak. Another discovers they like something they would never have ordered for themselves.

A plated meal belongs to one person.

A platter belongs to everyone.

That is why we still do it every Friday.

Not because it is nostalgic. Not because it is trendy.

Because after all the kitchens, all the menus, and all the years cooking professionally, I still think food is at its best when it brings people to the middle of the table.

It always has.

See The Meat Platter.