We go to the movies and buy popcorn in a container that could double as a trash can. A six-ounce “small” drink has grown to 64 ounces — enough to fill a small wading pool. A sandwich is stacked as high as the New York telephone directory. A bowl of pasta could be used as a bath for the baby. A “decent” size serving of mashed potatoes is one that has a crater of gravy deep enough to nestle in both buttocks. A serving of fish in a restaurant can cost as much as the monthly utilities bill. A steak can weigh 36 (or even more) ounces. It is so huge you could sit at one end of it and carve it from the other.

Big, of course, is the natural swing away from small. Small was a fad (mercifully now faded,) during which vegetables were miniaturized. Suddenly we were confronted with one-bite cauliflowers, one-chew artichokes, turnips, once as large as a small pumpkin shrank to the size of a green grape, (seedless,) eggplants dwindled to the contour of an index finger and zucchini grew so small it appeared for a while as though it may disappear entirely or simple be pained on the plate as part of the pattern.

I dare not taste one drop of oil

For if I do, my health I’ll spoil

I’d spread my bread with gobs of butter

But that would set my doc aflutter.

Don’t serve me poultry, pork or beef

Or I will surely come to grief,

And that fine fish just from the sea

Would, fried, become the death of me.

At breakfast I must never poke

My fork at any golden yolk,

And salt, to which I was a slave

Now lures me to an early grave.

Sugar, friend of shildhood, sweet,

Is now a rare, forbidden treat.

A shot of gin, a glass of wine,

Add up to sins times nine,

For Julia is no more my guide

‘Tis to Nathan Pritikins’ rules I must abide

Farewell to all the eats I love

Farewell, so long, to all the above.

But as I chomp through fields of green

And shrink each day to sinewy lean,

Teach me, dear Lord,

Not to wish each course

Was rare roast beef

With béarnaise sauce…

There is a brilliantly researched article on The Ladies Who Lunched in the February 2012 Vanity Fair magazine. It reminded me so much of the early days at The Four Seasons restaurant in New York City.

While capturing our  imagination, Joe Baum elevated the act of dining into a fine art. Long before it became fashionable to embrace farm to table concepts, this legendary restaurateur extraordinare, changed the way America eats.

• He was the first restaurateur to commission farmers to grow vegetables and fruits specifically for his restaurants
• The first to have salt water and fresh water fish tanks in his restaurant
• The first to introduce fine art in the form of paintings, sculptures, carved wood and blown glass into restaurants
• His table top designs are included in the permanent collection of the Museum of Modern Art
• He was the first to undertake scholarly research to authenticate the details of his restaurants
• The first to engage professional theatrical designers to produce custom-fitted staff uniforms
• The first to create restaurants as entertainments
• The first to offer a formalized seasonal menu and create a distinctively American menu — written in English
• The first to launch major advertising and public relations campaigns for restaurants