Evening Edge

The man and the woman sit down at the dinner table to talk. The camera pans from his face to hers. He saws at his food, he chews, he swallows, he manages to converse and eat throughout the scene.

She at first appears interested in her steak, commenting that it looks delicious. She makes a big production of cutting it up and pushing it around the plate. She even brings it close — tantalizingly close — to her lips. But no, those lips don't part. If the conversation doesn't go well, she pushes the plate away and claims she isn't so hungry after all. If it ends happily, the man tells her she had better eat up before it gets cold. She brings a bite toward her mouth, and ...

Matt Dinerstein/Bravo (ENLARGE)

'Top Chef' host Padma Lakshmi, also a writer and actress, shares a dish with chef Rocco DiSpirito.

John Kessler writes food features and a column about food and more for The Atlanta Journal-Constitution E-mail John Kessler Recent Kessler columns Your fool-proof checklist for Thanksgiving  Hours of low-temperature cooking yield tender, juicy meat  Different things to sample on my new dining menu         More John Kessler Related: John Kessler's blog: Food & More John Kessler's recipes Meridith Ford Goldman's Table Talk Jeanne Besser's Feeding Frenzy Evening Edge Atlanta Restaurant reviews and search Recipes from Atlanta restaurants Favorite Atlanta recipes

CUT!

Does anyone remember this strange, unwritten stricture from the television of 30 years ago — the one that stated women could not eat on camera?

There were only a few exceptions to the rule. Comedians like Lucille Ball could stuff their faces full of chocolates for comic effect. Vamps with pouty red lips were allowed maraschino cherries, but only maraschino cherries. Powerful, in-charge women could snap carrot sticks between their teeth with a decisive crack to the withering bewilderment of any dweeby guy within earshot.

But bite, chew, enjoy, swallow, talk? No. Women were denied any fulfillment obtained through the agency of eating. It was an unwritten sexist rule of the airwaves.

Things have certainly changed since then.

I've just watched a season of "Top Chef" on Bravo and noted that host Padma Lakshmi was allowed to be thin and beautiful and enjoy her food. I know that most of the viewers were watching in rapt attention to see if their favorite contestants would get booted for putting beets in a dessert. But I was always more interested in watching Lakshmi eat. She did it so normally — leaning her head in, opening wide, trying not to talk with her mouth full but not always succeeding.

Even in the commercials, where Lakshmi is dressed in slinky temptress regalia, she doesn't merely hold out an apple. She takes a bite.

Who else eats? I switched the channel to the Food Network to find out. Rachael Ray eats, with perfect manners on display. She spears one hearty bite on her fork, opens the trapdoor, chews with her mouth closed, swallows, goes "mmmmmm" with a tilt of her head to suggest a rapture-induced weakening of her neck muscles, and explains why the food was so good. I don't always believe her, but when I do, I really want to see her take another bite.

Paula Deen reminds me of a cartoon when she pops something in and rolls her eyes in a paroxysm of yum-yum.

But on nonfood TV, do women eat these days? I can't say. The only show I really watch is "Lost," where the only eater is the big, fat guy. The gorgeous women seem to survive solely on hair products and muay thai lessons. But I hope that women eat on sitcoms and police dramas. They should eat as much as they talk and drive and jog.

Just take one look at Lakshmi. Eating is both a normal activity and a source of shared pleasure, as she shows week after week.