The best meal I ever ate was at a now-defunct Greenville restaurant, one of those “10 Year Anniversary” restaurants that cost a couple hundred dollars for a meal for two. The dessert was one of those chocolate things that melted when they poured hot caramel over it, to reveal the actual dessert under the chocolate shell.
As a fiction writer, I often write about food, especially as my characters go about their daily lives. Meals aren’t something you spend a lot of time describing — that ends up sounding like a food critic’s post instead of fiction — but you should be able to give a good, solid feel for them within a sentence or two.
Remember to use all five senses as much as possible. How does the food smell? Does that roll crunch as you bite into it? Does the steam from your coffee rise to join the cigarette smoke near the ceiling? What about the texture or feeling of the food in your mouth? And don’t forget taste!
What I usually do is set the scene, then describe the meal as the characters talk and act. This furthers the story while also giving depth to the scene.
Here’s a little sample:
Once inside, he took a deep breath. At least the place smelled more of meat and potatoes than grease and burned bread. Perhaps they’d survive their culinary expedition. John led the other youngster to the end of a table and sat where he could see the door. Millie, or one of her cohorts, sauntered over. She poured coffee, and they ordered the daily special.
John studied the freckled face of his companion: still a trace of baby fat, a few sparse hairs below the beaky nose, and a scattering of pustules across the forehead.
He smiled. “You’re what, fifteen? Out on your own and ready to get out of town, same as me.”
The blue eyes narrowed once more. “I’m fourteen. How’d you figure all that?”
“Kid, you don’t want to know what all I can tell just by looking at a person.” John leaned back and sipped his coffee, trying to pretend he liked the flavor. “I figure you haven’t been eating too regular, either. You got work waiting in Colorado?”
The kid scowled. “I don’t think you really need to know my business. How old are you, anyhow?”
John waved the question away. “I’m old enough to be out on my own. It’s an advantage, in my line of work, to look younger than I am.”
As he’d planned, the kid’s attention was diverted. “What kind of work could anybody our age be doing?”
“You’d be surprised, kid,” John said. He allowed himself a little smirk. The waitress set a plate in front of them. He waited until she left to resume the conversation.
“So do you have work waiting, or are you headed to Colorado on a whim?”
He glanced over at the kid as he sawed into his slice of beef. The suspicious scowl on the other’s face triggered his Totally Blameless Face. He gave the kid a wide smile.
“I only ask because I’m headed out West myself, and it occurs to me that a partner might be a definite asset.” He waited until the other put a spoonful of stew into his mouth before he added, “Besides, a kid like you could use an experienced man of the world to show him the ropes.”