dining

Yesterday, as it was my mother's birthday, my family went out for dinner. My brother and i had offered to entertain ourselves so that my parents could have a night out, but they wanted to go somewhere mid-scale anyway, and wanted it to be family.

We went to a little local place in Placentia. The food is good, the clientèle seems mostly regulars, and the atmosphere is interesting. The owner greets you at the door and escorts you to your table. He must enjoy his work, because he looks like he has been entitled to retire and relax for some time.

The thing that struck me the most about the evening was the portion sizes.

I didn't frequent many restaurants while i was in Yaounde. My favorite and only repeat--La Salsa--had nothing to do with Mexican food at all. It was French/Italian. I loved their food, but as it was very classy, i didn't go that often. When i did go, i usually had the same thing: the lightest, freshest pita bread and most garlicky hummus in town, in the whole country, in fact. Then either fantabulous seafood spaghetti or Chateaubriand. Now, the hummus was intended for sharing, and we did. The seafood spaghetti and Chateaubriand were not--but i couldn't eat it all. Maybe i could have if i hadn't had hummus, but having merely one course isn't very European, is it? The servings weren't enormous--although i must admit, i usually devoured half a fresh baguette, too, and in the heat, a good litre of water. So, i'd ask to take the rest home. The wait staff politely packaged it up. In fact, if it was a table of English speakers with American or Canadian accents, they assumed they would be packaging up the leftovers.

When i went there with a European friend, he was appalled. Apparently, one does not take one's leftovers home from a restaurant in France.

But French restaurants usually do not serve more than one can eat. They serve a portion, the kind defined by the Nutrition Facts on food packaging. Half a cup of this. Four ounces of that. American restaurants serve several portions-worth of food on a plate. At any rate, since the wait staff didn't slight us, my friend adjusted to the idea. I think he still considers it slightly uncouth but i digress...

When i go out for a meal, i go out for a pleasant dining experience that i do not have to chop, dice, or saute beforehand, and especially do not have to clean up afterward. A pleasant dining experience precludes feeling ill as you leave because you were unable to resist that one last bite, or the one before it. I do not go out seeking to feel stuffed, salted, or pickled; nor to come home wondering when i'm going to eat the two meals-worth of leftovers in styrofoam boxes cluttering up the fridge with food that never tastes as good nuked in the microwave the next day.

At this restaurant in Placentia, my meal was A Serving. It was delicious. It was satisfying. I savoured every bite. And there are no styrofoam boxes in my fridge.