A Happy Medium

But don’t call it average — that’s just mean.

The other day I was accosted in my Seattle restaurant by a particularly disgruntled customer. “You call this a meal?” asked the rather bovine gentleman, “I’ve seen bigger portions on a kids menu!” I placated him with a third glass of Sauternes, and soon after guided him gently to the exit. The man was clearly an uncouth fellow who had no place dining in such a fine establishment as The Last Parsnip. However, the encounter did set me thinking about his general assumption that bigger is better — and why I believe that finding a sweet spot somewhere in the middle is the best approach in life.

This isn’t something new. Throughout history the center has always been the place to be. Cartographers drew their maps with Europe in the middle, not off to one side. Cities have always looked to become the center of the known world. And artists have typically placed their most important subjects at the heart of the group, rather than at the edge. (Imagine how the Last Supper would have looked like with Jesus off to one side skulking in the shadows).

The same spirit carries over into literature. Goldilocks was drawn neither to the porridge that was too hot, nor to the one that was too cold, but to the one in between. The one that was just right. (I’ll set aside any moral judgements on her tendency towards burglary and petty theft for another time). Tolkein knew it also — taking us on a fantastical journey to the heart of Middle Earth. Mordor and the fiery furnace of Mount Doom sit at the very center of this tale. In the same vein Jules Verne led his readers on a voyage to the center of the earth, not to the outside. The mystery and the magic clearly lie somewhere in the middle.

Now if this all seems a little too esoteric, then let me turn more practically towards the subject that is nearest and dearest to my heart. Cooking, when done successfully, invariably relies upon finding that middle ground. Everyone knows that the best steaks are served medium rare — not rare and certainly not well done. (Heaven forbid!). Portion sizes, in my less than humble opinion, should be adequate for the meal at hand and nothing else. They should be sufficient to satisfy the guest without overwhelming him or her. If a doggy bag is needed then something is wrong. (I’m a big advocate of variable portion sizes depending upon the physical appearance of each guest). And eggs when poached, fried or soft boiled should, of course, be prepared with a nicely cooked white and a still gloriously viscous yolk.

I was mulling over these things the other night while watching my troublesome customer stagger back out into the darkness of Bainbridge Island. As I glanced down at his receipt I noticed the tip. To my surprise it was, just like the meal he had consumed, neither too big, nor too small. It was just right. A happy medium indeed.