Plastic is not fantastic for takeaway food

“Can you pack the hummus also, please?” The waiter looked at me as if I’d lost the plot. Some of us were at this nice Turkish eatery (4.2 stars on one of those popular rate-the-place apps). The food, as usual, was terrific. Leftovers were scant: two pieces of chicken, barely a tablespoon of parsley-rice with onion rings, one skewer of lamb kebab.

My husband, as usual said, let it go. I, as usual, didn’t let it go. Why, why should we not get the food packed, take away? My argument of ‘we’ve paid for it’ doesn’t hold sway with him, because he thinks we’ve got money’s worth while at the table, and unless there’s a substantial portion left, let it be, it’s a headache to carry around a doggy bag. My deal is, why do you want to waste it? What’s left over may not be a meal, but it can be a snack, or a part of a meal.

The waiter repeated, incredulous, as if saying so slowly in that tone would change my mind: “The hummus also you want packed, madam?” “Yes, please” By now it didn’t matter to me that someone thinks I’m a cheapo. I suspect, in the past I used to be more conscious of being judged and would much rather come across as classy. But all these constructs we make up to suit ourselves, no? It’s foolish to not be prudent and not get value for your money. Classy is also confidence.

Once, I was with a friend at a mall and she, even more of a dheet (stubborn mule), had a bread basket packed at this French café. I laughed, delighted at our kindred spirit-ness and asked, “Are you sure that’s allowed?” And this well-travelled, worldly woman who didn’t care a whit that the diners on the next table might be tut-tutting at us, said: “Uff. They’ll just throw it away. You can have it for breakfast tomorrow.” She didn’t want it for herself because of some low-carb diet. So, I took the breads home, toasted them, happily scraped on butter.

There are so many issues with food takeaway: the problem of perception — how we appear to fellow diners, genuine prudence, the worry that we’re not doing enough to slow the pace of environment ruin. And let’s not forget, eating healthy. Food spoils if left in cars too long.

But at the Turkish place, even as I was defiantly getting the grudgy waiter to pack me my meagre two spoons of hummus, I was thinking of the plastic

You end up ordering in and you end up using hundreds of plastic receptacles, adding to an already massive recycling problem

that would getting wasted in a bid to not waste food. Does anyone else feel torn between food waste and plastic waste?

We should get into the habit of going to restaurants towing steel tiffin carriers or ice boxes or whatever, something reusable. But will a place like Dubai allow for such a step?

This has always been a problem here. Supermarkets have massive food waste issues and they won’t admit it. In Dubai, a chunk of the expat crowd eats out several times a week. The food is great, can be cheap, options are a plenty. Who wants to get home from work and start cooking? Not everyone has domestic help.

You end up ordering in and you end up using hundreds of plastic receptacles, adding to an already massive recycling problem. All those containers, all that cling wrap, all those useless plastic forks and spoons — why can’t they provide an option to not send those?

Ever been to a landfill? You’ll recognise bottle caps, cans, plastic forks, and hullo, those rectangular black plastic containers with the see-through plastic lid (temporary homes of hummus).

I feel no shame at a restaurant in asking for a doggy bag even if what is leftover are scraps. If, earlier, I used to embarrass myself, I have trained my mind to quash that meek voice. Except for this troublesome trade-off: even as I’m trying to not waste food, I’m using more plastic. — nivriti@khaleejtimes.com