In praise of tiny things.

Celebrating the small, sweet, and simple.

I like things in smaller sizes. Allow me to illustrate my point:

The Miller High Life “pony” comes to mind - a friend calls them “see-throughs,” and the tiny bottles are a staple at my restaurant Leon’s. The little Coronita beers fit the bill, too. And the Modelito. They’re getting harder and harder to find.

I celebrated when Coke launched their petite line of canned sodas, though I had kicked my Diet Coke habit years before.

I prefer my beer in half pints over pints always, and I prefer to eat from a small side or salad plate at home. When I was part of the opening team at The Ordinary I convinced them we should only serve tiny beers - 10 ounce pours. This didn’t last long, as the customers quickly rebelled.

At home I drink my beer from a small glass from Japan, made by a company that once made light bulbs. The glass is thin, the portion restrained - I think it clocks in at 7 ounces. If I had the nerve I would serve these 7 ounce beers in my own restaurants.

We even have a shelf in our house dedicated to little things. Shells, mostly, but also small pieces we pick up on our travels, like the miniature ivory candlestick we bought in Paris many years ago. Contained within this shelf is an entire world, little stories of places we’ve been. I love to stop and take it all in from time to time.

I believe we’ve all become accustomed to everything just being so goddamn big. Houses, cars, energy drinks, watches, portions at restaurants - there is no corner of our culture that has not been supersized.

Beyond my failed attempt to convert people to tiny beers at The Ordinary, the love for tiny things has mostly escaped the restaurant business. (One exception is Buvette in the West Village - where the plates and cutlery are all smaller than you’d expect, and I love them for it.) Huge portions abound. I’m guilty of this at my own spots. This is why I was so pleasantly surprised by a recent meal at Superiority Burger.

The portion sizes were quite restrained, which made perfect sense because the prices read as much less expensive compared to most (or any) buzzy New York restaurants. What I found though, as I often do, is that I didn’t need nearly as much food as I thought. I was perfectly satisfied, the bill was a bit lower, and I didn’t limp out as the gorged, overstuffed man that I sometimes am. It was a win all around.

And the desserts are where I really appreciated this edit. My companion was a self professed sweets head, so he went deep on the dessert selection. Part of me recoiled knowing the table would soon be strewn with dessert plates - a mass to be reckoned with and polished off.

Check out the size of this peanut butter pie, with hand for scale:

This is a perfectly reasonable portion, and dare I say, I hope this is a trend that gains a bit of momentum in the coming years.