There are two kinds of people in this world

 ... Those who notice that I eat my food one portion at a time, and those who don't. I braved the St. Patty's Day Parade crowds to meet my friend Elaine for a birthday lunch at the restaurant of her choosing. She ordered a chicken dish and, since she knew the place well, I followed suit and also ordered chicken, though mine was buttermilk fried and came with a huge side of cole slaw.

Really, it was fine

We were having a lively conversation about her new, full-time job and then about the movie Anora, which we both liked though she more than I. I was merrily enjoying both my fried chicken and the chatter when all of a sudden she asked, "Is there something wrong with the cole slaw?"

To be honest, I didn't know because I had not yet touched it. 

"I'm eating the chicken first because I want to enjoy it while it's hot," I lied. She nodded and we went back to our conversation.

I always eat my food one portion at a time. The temperature of the dish has no bearing on this. It's simply my preference.

 This is, at least, the third time Elaine has mentioned this to me over the last four years or so. It must bother her on some level or she wouldn't ask me about it with a certain degree of regularity.

I do not know why she notices or why she cares. Yet she does. I could not tell you who among my acquaintances also eats their portions one at a time because I pay no attention.

But my icky grandmother did. It used to make her crazy at family dinners. "Gal! Are you ever going to eat your vegetables?" she would ask accusingly. If it was corn or peas or potatoes, of course I was because I liked those very much. I was just enjoying my turkey or ham first. And, since I was taught not to snap at my elders, I refrained from saying, "What's it to you, you old bat?"

She used to do the same thing to my uncle. 

There was always embarrassed silence around the table when she did this. It's part of what made family dinners such a joy!

I was not doing it to annoy my icky grandmother. I'd genuinely not given it any thought whatsoever. It was and remains quite natural for me to eat my main portion first and then get to the side (cole slaw, fries, fruit, whatever) when I am done. 

Elaine does not seem as judgey as my icky grandmother. Of course, St. Peter isn't as judgey as my icky grandmother. But my friend does notice. (It reminds me of my cousin Rosemary's constant carping about the size of my purse. "What on earth do you have in there?" "Why do you carry such a big bag?" I admit I notice purses more than dining habits but that's in case I want to buy someone a bag or wallet as a gift, not because I care what they prefer.)

I admit it: I will judge your politics, the way you treat panhandlers, your pet parenting, and your grammar. But I truly do not give a fuck how you eat your food. So this phenomenon continues to baffle me.