“To this day, I mop my plate, though probably more out of appreciation than social conscience. I push the bread around my plate, leaving swirls and swishes of cream and rust, like a Howard Hodgkin painting. Every droplet and puddle is sponged up by the dough, every pool and rivulet caught in the soft, white crumb. A baguette is best, its slightly burnt, crisp crust, keeping my fingers dry. … a Chinese host may take a mopped plate as a sign that more food is needed, yet I would rather think of each painterly flourish as a signature, a thank-you note to the cook.”

Nigel Slater, A Thousand Feasts