The monkey eats with his hands. He eats with his face. He eats while making small contented noises that are, in monkey, untranslatable but obvious.
There is no monkey eating sadly over a sink. There is no monkey eating standing up because he doesn't deserve to sit down.
We turned eating into a moral event, full of permission slips and confessions. The mandrill has never apologized for a meal. The mandrill is, at this very moment, getting fig juice on his beard, and the day is better for it.