Just say no

When I was small, my mum taught me that I should always finish what was on my plate – although I never quite figured out the relationship between my leftovers and the starving children in India, Cambodia or Biafra (or the various other causes célébres of the day). What was true of meals at home was doubly so of special occasion meals, such as those eaten at friends' houses or at restaurants.

Fast forward 30 years or so and the result of this indoctrination is an adult who eats out a lot and still finishes everything on her plate, even if it's the second five-course meal of the day. The consequences have been inevitable.

I'm lucky enough to have a great job that allows me to travel a lot. Furthermore, once I reach my destination, my hosts fall over themselves to show me a good time. I get taken out to great restaurants or get treated to meals en famille with great frequency. Fantastic bottles of wine are unearthed from their resting place in the cellars, the table groans with all kinds of prestige foods and meals last a minimum of two hours, if not well into the night.

I'm certainly not complaining (although by the time I get home after most trips I crave fresh vegetables and simple dishes – prestige meals don't tend to run to greens and fruit in most cases), but it's very difficult to say no if your hosts are putting on such a show of generosity. And, if everything's laid on (rather than ordering from a restaurant menu), it's difficult to ensure that appropriate food is easy to come by.

I knew well before I got on the plane that last week's trip to the Minervois and St Chinian in southern France would be a test of my resolve. Sure enough, shortly after landing, we were whisked straight to a wine tasting at Homps, once an important loading point for barges travelling along the Canal du Midi. In addition to the wines we were to taste, a table had been set with platefuls of local salamis, olives, cheeses, breads and pastries. Have I mentioned how hungry you can get when you're tasting wine?

Over the course of the next couple of days, we went from one eating opportunity to another, including several lavish meals. But I've learned one vital lesson. Contrary to what I'd been taught to believe, the sky doesn't land on your head if you leave some of the food on your plate. You can ask for the steak to come without the cream and mushroom sauce. And you absolutely must say no to white bread, dessert and other foods laden with simple carbohydrates (see above for the dessert that got away, a parfait flavoured with Muscat de St Jean de Minervois, a dessert wine – sob).

I managed it all last week and, while I regretted saying no to some of the dishes I would have enjoyed, I consoled myself with the fact that I wouldn't have enjoyed them half as much as I'd have regretted eating them by the next day.