Splitting

PRUDENT VENTURES

HOME ARTICLES PHOTOS

Splitting

As the waitress picked up our half-full plates, Al said, "That would have fed a family of four."

"Next time let us split one for you," she replied.

When we first starting splitting, we ordered tentatively, wondering if restaurant workers would consider us misers — or worse. Such thoughts vanished at this upscale coffee shop in Southern California. For breakfast that day, we had both ordered omelets that turned out to be the size of the average serving platter. In many restaurants normal portions are gargantuan.

Pictured here is an "appetizer" that was too big for the two of us to eat. Half became a take-home that was enough for a small evening meal, which is another way we extend the split.

Now when we order, we forthrightly state, "We’re splitters." And get into the process with a question such as, "Is the mini pumpkin with lobster possible to split?"

[back to Articles]

At Moose’s, San Francisco’s stylish North Beach restaurant, popular with tourists and conventioneers as well as local gourmets, we enjoyed one of our last meals prior to leaving California. The Chronicle’s food critic had just awarded Moose’s new chef, Jeffrey Amber, three stars. We would judge for ourselves.

"The pumpkin is difficult to cut in two; we can put it between you — the kitchen will be glad to split all the other appetizers," the waiter replied. That is typical of the responses we’ve encountered in restaurants in the United States, Canada, England and France since we began splitting six years ago. Rarely is the response sour. Only one time did we pay an extra charge — at a California brewpub.

Typically, we split two appetizers and one entrée. At Moose’s that day, we skipped the pumpkin and started with seared Japanese Hamachi (tuna with golden beets marinated in chili oil), followed by duck comfit salad with pine nuts, manchego cheese and greens with roasted quince vinaigrette. Then we split the skirt steak entrée — just a tad of meat — accompanied by an arugula salad with Brie and an olive dressing.

Yes, we split desserts, too. Following that meal, came Rocky Road Semifreddo, crunch chocolate tuile, marshmallows and roasted cashews. With the appetizer, we each had a glass of Pinot Grigio, then a Merlot with the steak. When we asked for one more glass of Merlot to have with the dessert, the waiter even split that into two glasses.

All of our selections arrived in the sequence requested. Two waiters and an assistant manager, plus a busman, pampered us. Courses arrived at a well-paced tempo.

[back to Articles]

We expected that in moving north by northwest we would miss the San Francisco restaurant scene, even though we looked forward to the new area and our budding joint writing/photography career. We rationalized that, while we would have less money for eating out, we would have more time to cook for ourselves.

But Whatcom County is a pleasant surprise. We haven’t found any need to go to Seattle or Vancouver for fine dining. We’ve had some terrific meals at Stephanie’s in Birch Bay. On our 106^th anniversary — we count months — we had an excellent midday dinner at the Boundary Bay Brewery and Bistro in Bellingham. There we started with an appetizer of mussels cooked in ale; then a salad of mixed greens with blue cheese, grapes, pears and hazelnuts; followed by chicken fajitas with a complex ginger sauce — a meal every bit as good as anything we remember. Service shone. The mussel broth cried out for a take-home container. A day or so later that broth with some added clams became our dinner pasta.

An experienced restaurant worker once told us that kitchen managers resent splits because they upset the routine flow of the line. We have another theory: It is that restaurant staff see so much food go in the dumpster, they are pleased when people eat reasonably. We also suspect that a little extra vegetable is added to a split half, just to make the plate look right.

[back to Articles]

The dining room at the Orcas Hotel in the San Juan Islands charges $6 for a split dinner; however, only the protein portion is split; regular servings of vegetables are put on the plate. As the picture illustrates, our plates were full.

We experienced another sensational splitting adventure at Nimbus, the restaurant recently selected by the Bellingham Weekly as a best first date place. On our drive down I-5, we discussed the appetizer and entrée items in the Weekly’s ad announcing their spring menu. Chef Jim Kowalski strives to utilize Whatcom County and Washington’s local purveyors of seasonal organic and natural ingredients from the Pacific Northwest. This fits in with our own philosophy, recently recognized as also shared with the slow food movement. High atop the Bellingham Towers, we sat in a niche jutting westward toward Bellingham Bay. The waitress kidded that we had the ship’s helm.

This evening’s splits included two appetizers, one entrée and a dessert. We started with the fresh Alaskan halibut ceviché with pickled papaya and wasabi followed by the tempeh, cabbage and bean sprout spring rolls with balsamic reduction. The grilled filet mignon in truffle-balsamic sauce (eight ounces split between us) was the high point of the meal. All three of those dishes came with organic greens, justifying dessert. A thin wedge of flourless chocolate torte and two spoons provided just enough of a finale. An Echelon Pinot Grigio with the appetizers and a Hogue Genesis Merlot with the entrée and dessert enhanced the meal.

Our "splitting model" forms a diamond. The four corners represent health (we consume fewer calories), ecology (we waste little), economy (we spend less) and variety (we enjoy more).

And with splitting, our clothes fit better!