As what we in the newspaper business call a "colour" writer, it has occasionally been my job to convey the atmosphere surrounding a major State occasion, such as the visit of a foreign dignitary. A key element in this task, traditionally, is to stake out the official dinner and find out what guests had to eat.
Of course, it's not only at State banquets that food can feature in the coverage. I still recall the excitement of discovering, during the 1997 Dáil debate in which Ray Burke faced questions about political donations, that "grilled ray" was featuring on the menu in the Leinster House canteen. It's such moments that make a career in journalism worthwhile.
But reporting what guests eat at a State dinner can be regarded as frivolous. It is considered beneath the dignity of serious political commentators, who do more important work, such as attending the dinner (in fairness, they often leak the menu). So it was with a certain feeling of vindication that I read about the recent sausage incident in the Middle East, and the resultant diplomatic row between Egypt and Israel.
Ordinarily I might hesitate to call this matter, which also involved a tomato, an "incident". In diplomatic terms, "incident" implies a level of seriousness that might cause, say, the expulsion of a military attaché. But in this case I'm quoting the Egyptian president, Hosni Mubarak, who was centrally involved.
According to a number of sources, including the New York Times and the Jerusalem Post, the row started when an Egyptian general paid a visit to the Israeli prime minister, Ariel Sharon. Now Sharon is a man who likes food, a fact reflected in his appearance. I don't like to comment on his waistline; but to put it in diplomatic terms, his reputation for dining goes before him, in a very real sense. A veteran of the Six Day War, it's probably fair to say that none of his diets has lasted half that long (OK, we get the picture - Ed).
In short, the Egyptian general was expecting to be well fed during his visit. Instead, what he got was "two sausages and a tomato". This is according to President Mubarak, who raised the issue later with Sharon, although it didn't become public until he brought it up again in a meeting with the Israeli Foreign minister.
"We were so hurt that I could not overlook the incident," he reportedly told Shimon Peres. "I complained to Sharon and he said that next time the general would get three sausages." The affair might have ended there, except that in the same conversation, Mubarak referred to "fatso Sharon" and added: "I hear he eats an entire lamb for dinner". This was a private conversation, and he may have thought the sentiments would go down well with Peres, a rival of Sharon and the leading member of the Israeli cabinet's thin faction. But his remarks were leaked to the press and the "fatso" slur brought a stiff rebuke from Israel over "improper comments that exceed any diplomatic code".
This is how wars start. As Bismarck said: "To retain respect for sausages and laws, one must not watch them in the making." This quote has absolutely no relevance here, admittedly, and I include it only because I discovered it, in an unconnected article in the Jerusalem Report, during a Web-search for the words "Israel" and "sausages".
But to get back to my point, insofar as I had one, the incident highlights the importance of food in affairs of state, and will hopefully increase respect for the efforts of colour writers in their vital work of making menu details public. As to the rights and wrongs of this particular incident, however, you'd need to be an expert in Middle-Eastern etiquette to comment.
On the face of it, two sausages and a tomato does appear a calculated insult. It sounds like breakfast on a budget airline, and Sharon's "three sausages" rejoinder clearly didn't help. Having said that, the general may not have given the full picture. Maybe there was a side salad he didn't mention; even lettuce can take the bare look off a meal. It might also be noted, in passing, that the Middle East has enough problems without Egypt complaining about sausages.
Still, state caterers do put a lot of thought into what they feed visitors, and with good reason. No government hosting a reception for George W. Bush, for example, would include pretzels on the menu. Even without making such obvious mistakes, state catering is risky. A point that was of course famously illustrated by the first President Bush in Japan in 1992 - when, like the Egyptian general, he was fed something that didn't agree with him, and like President Mubarak, he brought it up at the highest level.
fmcnally@irish-times.ie