In a world of abundance, to be rich is to be moderate.

An essay to myself on the definition of progress

I recently finished reading The Third Plate: Field Notes on the Future of Food, a remarkable investigation, journey and manifesto by celebrated chef Dan Barber. The book weaves anecdotes, research, history and opinion into a compelling narrative calling for society to embrace the complexity of an integrated natural ecosystem in which humans can work hand-in-hand with nature to produce an abundance of elevated, sustainable food.

Barber persuasively makes the case that humans can strike a balance between innovation and sustainability, and while there are many memorable moments in the book there is one story that I can’t stop thinking about:

Not so long ago I visited a highly regarded avant-garde restaurant. The menu was cutting-edge, the dishes small and exciting. After a thirty-course meal, the chef brought me back to the kitchen for a tour.

Standing at the pass, he signaled to a cook, who carried a freshly plucked chicken carcass swaddled in cheesecloth. The chicken, the chef explained, had been sent to him from a farming cooperative in France, which had raised the rare bird with the hope of preserving its superior genetics. He admitted that it was probably the best chicken he had ever tasted…