BONTON

Twenty years ago I went on a dialectical expedition to the North.
The Urals. We traveled, of course, through the most remote villages.
Here lived mostly Kerch, and they even used the usual "All-Russian" words in an unusual meaning. I will not abuse them here.
The village we stayed in was known for its very high quality beer. Secrets of Generations. There was no more like that anywhere. The refusal to try this drink was considered to be a deadly insult, a deadly sin for the owners, although not all of the expedition (8 people) loved beer, in addition, half consisted of women. But all of us, of course, were at the table, except for the local women – either by tradition or because of the lack of space. They poured somewhere a corner from the bush on the two-liter banks, which were served on the table, and already from them on the half-liter bushes.
Beer turned out to be exceptional – Moscow’s new product, as they say, rests (along with the Czech Republic and Bavaria). My attention was drawn by this episode. There was a couple in our group – Masha and Gene. The rough crack grandfather Egor suddenly struck Genoa – for the fact that the first poured beer to his girlfriend, not to himself. “You respect her,
A beautiful “Love”? And in the meantime, on the surface any sickness can swim - a walnut or a non-man. From the top, you need to pour from the bowl into your bowl, and then pour the girl! Then go into your bowl! We have been doing this in the village for hundreds of years.”
My grandfather’s speech impressed me and somehow unnoticed in my memory.
But 20 years have passed and I get a magazine with advice from a famous French restaurant. So, he thinks it’s wrong to pour wine (especially to the gardens) initially to the ladies.
After all, the top of the bottle can float the remains of a dispersed block and other infections.
I understand that we have traveled around Europe in bonton for about half a thousand years.