“Mamá, ¿ya podemos ir?” — a retrospectively ignorant sentiment that I repeated with every ritualistic Sunday outing throughout my childhood.

After every family meal, the adults in my family had this unwavering propensity of laughing over old memories or arguing about trivial matters. As an impatient child, I wasn’t aware of the innate value of these conversations as moments of connectivity. 

I was yet to come to terms with the magic of sobremesa. It wasn’t until my early adulthood that I acquired an appetite for the fine art of lingering at the dinner table — and realized how desperately our world needs it. 

Sobremesa is a concept native to Latin American culture: It is the notion of savoring the moment. The literal translation of sobremesa is “upon the table,” a phrase that merely scratches the true depth of the term.

Sobremesa occurs after the meal is over, but the conversation continues. These moments are intimate, irrefutably human in nature.

The most common accompaniment is a soul-warming coffee or a shared dessert. But the accompaniment isn’t the point, the conversation is. The true nature of sobremesa is enjoying the companionship of loved ones, allowing yourself to revel in each passing second with them. 

Being of Mexican, Uruguayan and Dominican descent, I am no stranger to the sacred practice of sobremesa. It doesn’t just happen at restaurants — it happens at kitchen tables, on patios, in backyards. From negotiating world-altering peace treaties to meticulously planning an international trip, conversations are the centerpiece of human connection. Sobremesa is the manifestation of this anthropological truth. 

My cousins, who are of a similar age, and my firmly established friend group are avid practitioners of this tradition. If you know me, you know that my most precious hobby is going out to dinner. It is in this environment that my company and I are given an outlet. From therapy sessions to discussing the latest gossip, nothing is off limits at the dinner table.   

As a USC student, I am constantly bombarded by pressures to outperform my peers and to advance my future at any cost. Sobremesa is me taking a step back, allotting untouchable time to ingest the small pleasures of life. When I sit at the dinner table, I am in no rush to leave. I savor my coffee slowly as I relish the soft chatter and laughter that fills the room. 

Spain, the originator of this ideal, proves that sobremesa serves as a bridge between Hispanic and Latino cultures. It is a testament to a tradition of generosity, slowness and warmth, transcending the confines of geography. 

This approach stands in stark contrast to United States culture, where speed and efficiency often come before connection. According to a survey by US Foods, nearly six in 10 Americans prefer to order takeout as opposed to dining within a restaurant. The notion of using time eating outside as a third space for social connection does not seem to be of concern. 

In the U.S., the idea of staying at a restaurant after finishing your meal is foreign. In fact, it may be perceived as a bit rude. Many food establishments even impose time limits, viewing lingering diners as encroaching patrons rather than an embodiment of togetherness. More broadly, American culture celebrates quick exits and fast transitions — from work to home, from one task to another — rewarding productivity over presence.

To some extent, this American rule is permissible. Speaking from personal experience, many all-you-can-eat buffets and establishments set stringent time limits, often ranging from 90 minutes to 2 hours. I can sympathize with such restaurants, as this time constraint acts as a safeguard against overly gluttonous guests. 

In a rapid and on-demand world, sobremesa is the counterculture — fighting for a return to slow savoring. We are used to demanding things at unprecedented speeds, denying the simple act of waiting. 

Los Angeles offers a silent resistance to this rhythm. L.A. possesses the largest Latino population out of any county within the U.S.: Almost half of all residents within L.A. County identify as Hispanic or Latino. 

Somewhere in South Central, Downtown or Pasadena, sobremesa is occurring each night. Whether it be within their respective homes or at their favorite local spot, Angelenos are perfecting the craft of slow connection. 

I urge you to have the courage to partake in difficult conversations and wear your heart on your sleeve at the dinner table. Wisdom has granted me the knowledge that sobremesa isn’t merely a cultural practice. It is a value of presence, a stance against urgency and an undying reminder that joy exists exactly in the moments we don’t rush. 

Paulina da Silva is a junior writing about culture and community in her column, “Pauli’s Slice,” which runs every other Friday.