Given that you’re probably sitting down while reading this, how’s your bottom? Sinking comfortably into a cushion or flattened against hard wood? I ask because chairs are important to me.

Until they invent a walking restaurant, I’m tethered to a dining chair for a large part of the day, interrupted only by brisk walks to supermarkets and food stores and by stretches at my desk, where I spend the time writing about what I’ve eaten. Not so much the Galloping Gourmet, then, as the Sedentary one. But still, it makes me an expert, of sorts, on the dining chair.

As soon as I enter a new restaurant, my eyes fall on the seating arrangements, with my mind doing an automatic equation between Comfort Level of Seat versus Length of Time at Table. The classic Bentwood chair is delightful when at a bustling bistro for an hour or so, but not ideal when settling in for an 18-course degustation that will take three to four hours. For that, I’ll be needing upholstery.

The restaurant interiors trend for long, padded banquettes is a huge win for bottoms everywhere, but it still means certain people have to sit on the chairs facing it.

Booths offer more equality, with nobody missing out on cushioned comfort. Neptune’s Grotto in Sydney has the most romantic, candlelit, half-moon booths, while Lucia in South Melbourne has booths that are each large enough
to swallow a party of six.

Then there’s Wobbly Chair Syndrome. Psychological Science journal once published a study in which people sitting on wobbly and non-wobbly chairs were asked to rate the stability of their personal relationships. Those on the wobbly chairs rated their relationships as less secure than their non-wobbly-chair-sitting counterparts rated theirs.

Does this mean that if my chair wobbles in a restaurant, I’ll file for divorce before coffee? I’m only an expert when it comes to eating and seating, not embodied cognition, but possibly.

And what if there’s no chair at all? On a trip to the southern Japanese island of Shikoku, I sat on a thin tatami mat on the floor for every meal, ending up with pins and needles and a numb bum. And a deep and abiding gratitude for my favourite, four-legged support-worker.

theemptyplate@goodweekend.com.au