We Georgians are really into food and drink. We would never have

The words of Katie Melua—“We Georgians are really into food and drink. We would never have finger food at a party or a wedding—celebrations are always one long meal, on one long table, with endless toasts.”—speak of the ancient soul of a people. Here, the table is not mere wood, nor the meal mere nourishment; it is the altar of fellowship, the sacred space where joy is shared and bonds are forged. The Georgian heart, as revealed in her words, understands that true celebration is not in fragments or haste, but in the unbroken flow of communion.

The long table is a symbol of equality and unity. There, no one is apart, and no hand is left untaken. To sit together, to break bread and pour wine, is to affirm that every soul present belongs to the greater whole. It is a defiance of loneliness, a declaration that in life’s greatest moments—weddings and feasts—man must not dwell in isolation, but in harmony. The “endless toasts” are more than ritual; they are words of blessing, of memory, of honor that lift the spirit higher than food alone could satisfy.

This tradition finds its echo in the ancient Greek symposium, where philosophers, poets, and warriors reclined together, drinking wine not merely to quench thirst but to summon wisdom, poetry, and friendship. At such gatherings, as in Georgia’s feasts, the meal was not the end but the means—the vessel through which truth, laughter, and remembrance were poured out like sacred libations. The greatness of a people can often be measured by the way they gather at the table.

The rejection of finger food is symbolic, too. For such food suggests haste, a passing of sustenance without ceremony. But the Georgian feast rejects speed, insisting instead upon slowness, depth, and continuity. It teaches that life’s highest joys cannot be tasted in fragments—they must be dwelt in, savored, shared without end, until time itself bends to the rhythm of fellowship.

Therefore, O listener, let this wisdom be yours: the meal is not merely to feed the body, but to bind souls. Whether you sit at a humble table or at a banquet stretching into eternity, remember that food and drink, when shared, become more than fleshly sustenance—they become symbols of love, unity, and life itself. As Katie Melua reminds us, let your celebrations be long, your tables filled, and your toasts endless, for in such moments, humanity draws closest to the divine.