Are you one of those folks who splurges on a really nice restaurant — but mostly on special occasions?

We used to. And sometimes we still do.

But it occurs to me that there are people for whom every meal — at least in terms of cost and elegance — is a special occasion.

I thought about a few weeks ago attending an outdoor wedding reception in Jamestown. There was nice yacht out in Narragansett Bay aiming towards Newport. It sounds ridiculous to say it was “nice” — it was a YACHT, for crissakes — but there are degrees of Yachtness.

Once, my wife Eileen and I took her parents, Bob and Joyce, to Newport on one of their visits from Texas, and we had one of those expensive “special occasion” luncheons on the waterfront. Afterwards, Bob and I were standing on the dock, staring in close-up amazement at a yacht that was frankly intimidating in size and sleek design. My father-in-law and I felt guilty just for being so close to it, as though we might curse it by our mediocrity. If someone on deck had pointed a fire hose and power-washed us into the sea, we’d have felt like we deserved it.

Instead, a crew of young, fit people wearing golf shirts with the yacht’s logo sprang into action. They were apparently “in port” — that’s sailor talk — to stock up on expensive provisions. In an almost orchestrated processional, they on-loaded moving cart after moving cart stacked with cases of booze and fresh seafood. At one point, an imperious fellow in one of those towering white chef hats materialized way up on the deck, casting a Wolf Larsen-style critical eye on the progress of his crew. Apparently satisfied, he went back into his presumably lavish galley.

“You know that lunch we just had?” Bob said.

I nodded enthusiastically; it had indeed been remarkable.

“The people on this yacht eat like that every meal of every day of the year,” Bob said.

He was right, and we both lapsed into silence, pondering the sheer luxury of it all.

I can’t imagine getting tired of a ceaseless diet of four- and five-stars meals — whether on a yacht or on nightly excursions to stupidly expensive restaurants where one’s assistant must book reservations weeks or months advance.

But: would the ceaseless decadence ultimately take the “special” out of “special occasion”? Do these people occasionally throw in a 7-Eleven burrito or a Sunday luncheon at Olive Garden just to be reminded of the lesser world the rest of us live in?

Maybe I’m bitter, but it all reminds me of that saying about youth being wasted on the young — only, instead: “wealth is wasted on the rich.”

Either way, the older and sleepier we get — and with Eileen and I living a few thousand miles away from our relatives — I guess we have less “special occasion” meals than ever. Birthdays? If we feel like getting out. Definitely not holidays. We spent nine hours on a recent Thanksgiving preparing a lavish repast, then sat down, just the two of us, and ate in about 17 minutes — and THEN spent eight hours cleaning.

What we might do, and we’ve discussed this, is to randomly select “special occasion” days that have no actual symbolic meaning — and just treat ourselves.

What about you? Do you savor the idea of a “special occasion” meal? Where do you go? Oh, and do you own a yacht? Can we come aboard? What’s for dinner?

Feel free to chime in with your thoughts and anecdotes by emailing r.koster@theday.com. We’ll run as many responses as we can. Speaking of which, in the last “A Question of Taste” column, we discussed why some vegetarian products are engineered to taste like meat but not the other way around. Here are a few of your comments.

“On a recent visit to Burger King, my buddy ordered an Impossible Whopper with bacon. When I stopped laughing I asked him why and he said, ‘Because it's so stupid it's funny. They offer a meatless burger with meat on it.’”

— Richard Golden, Waterford

“As a vegan since 1970, I compliment you for your subtle and playful criticism of vegheads who lust for mock meats. It's a desire that totally mystifies me.”

— Mark Braunstein, Quaker Hill