BYO cutlery: why we should all carry our own knives and forks

In medieval Europe, people used to carry their own personal knife – a sharp one – for every eating occasion. There was no expectation that cutlery would be provided, except perhaps for spoons. When the meal was done, the knife was wiped clean on a napkin and carefully returned to your person. The knife was worn so habitually that – as with a watch – you might start to regard it as a part of yourself and forget it was there. A sixth-century text reminded monks to detach their knives from their belts before they went to bed, so they didn't cut themselves. Like many aspects of medieval life, this knife-carrying now seems pretty weird.

But was portable cutlery really such a bad idea?

Earlier this year, the chair of a forestry group in China, Bo Guangxin, urged diners to "carry their own tableware" to avert the ecological disaster caused by disposable chopsticks. It is estimated that China throws away somewhere between 57 and 80bn pairs of chopsticks every year. Either way, it's a lot of forest. Japan has an even heavier disposable chopstick habit, thanks to Shinto ideas of purity. Traditionally, giving a fresh pair of chopsticks to each customer was the only way a restaurateur could assure his clientele that what they put in their mouth was not defiled.

In both China and Japan, however, a "bring-your-own-chopsticks" (BYOC) movement has sprung up among the young. Manufacturers have cottoned on, marketing cute cloth bags or boxes for carrying reusable chopsticks. Greenpeace China has persuaded hundreds of Beijing restaurants not to provide disposable cutlery unless customers specifically ask for them.

Back in the land of knives and forks, however, the movement for BYO cutlery has hardly begun. Much of the travel cutlery available in the west seems to be aimed at the camping market – foldable metal sets that often have vicious can openers and corkscrews attached – rather than everyday meals. It's hard to find anything much between bright plastic toddlerware and Swiss Army knives.

There was a news story in September that highlighted our curious attitude to portable tableware. For a laugh, three teenagers visited a branch of McDonald's, bringing with them their own tablecloth, candles and metal cutlery. Staff initially told them to "leave or you're banned", though the manager eventually relented. McDonald's issued a statement saying: "We ask that any items brought in by customers, such as cups or plates, are used responsibly" – as if plastic forks were naturally more "responsible" than metal ones.

When lunching in Pret- and EAT-style chains, there is still no social shame attached to taking a fresh plastic knife, fork and spoon every time. Pret says it can all be recycled. But why do we need to generate this level of cutlery wastage for something as modest as an avocado salad? It has been estimated that disposable cutlery in the UK is used for just three minutes before it is chucked.

The real problem is that we don't even recognise disposable cutlery as a problem yet. We no longer expect to be given limitless plastic bags in shops. Likewise, public opinion has finally moved against bottled water, with sales declining across Europe and the US. At my gym, I hardly ever see anyone who isn't toting a reusable aluminium bottle of tap water.

Yet the rest of our tableware hasn't caught up. In coffee shops, some people request paper cups even when they plan to drink in. I suspect that all those paparazzi shots of celebrities swigging grande lattes have given the paper cup itself a kind of cachet. When Starbucks launched a new reusable cup earlier this year, they modelled the design on their own paper cups, as if to say: don't worry, you won't look too strange drinking from this. Even so, they anticipate just 5% of their drinks being served from reusable cups by 2015.

Hipsters in America have started swigging coffee from reusable glass canning jars with beaker-style lids, but this hasn't taken off here – maybe because it's hard to organize yourself to put a large glass jar in a work bag, especially in a pre-caffeinated state. Insulated travel mugs are handier and, while still a minority thing, they no longer seem eccentric.

The same cannot be said of portable forks. Sadly, we are still at the point where it is considered weird to carry cutlery, rather than weird not to. I've lately started stashing bamboo sporks in my handbag and I get some odd looks when I produce them (in cafes, I hasten to add, rather than at other people's houses. I'm not that odd). But I don't care. Green issues aside, there's something satisfying about using a familiar and well-loved object rather than some impersonal plastic thing that doesn't even work properly. Those medieval knife-carriers were not so daft.