Ideas to Save Your Life by Michael McGirr

Author:Michael McGirr [McGirr, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Text Publishing Company
Published: 2021-09-28T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 12

Zest

William James

You don’t see the word ‘zest’ often as you might, except perhaps in recipes. It’s a shame. ‘Zest’ is a much more zesty word than ‘passion’, which turns up everywhere like a deflated inner tube that once was going places. Those who talk about passion in a professional context usually just want to tick the right boxes. ‘Excellence’ is another such word. It is more often than not a sign of mediocrity, which is ironic because Aristotle, who bequeathed the idea to us, saw it as the opposite of exceptional. For him, arete was a matter of perfect balance between extremes. Perhaps not mediocrity, but certainly the golden mean.

Zest, like a surprising number of philosophical concepts, has culinary origins. The zest of a lemon (or an orange or lime) is got by grating the outside of the skin, the part you don’t normally eat. In tiny pieces, it is not just flavoursome but pervades the whole dish with what feels like energy. Zest contributes in a special way to many Vietnamese dishes. Also to Syrian chicken, although it is hard to enjoy that dish without mourning the tragedy that has befallen the ancient country whose name it brings to the table. Recipes, like ideas, can survive unspeakable calamities. This is why both are enshrined in religious observance everywhere around the world, from Passover to Eid.

The only student I can recall using the word ‘zest’ was Dominique. Perhaps this was because she grew up around a Vietnamese restaurant that her parents, both refugees, had started. They had been boat people, spent time in refugee camps and, hoping for a fresh start, worked long hours, zesting lemons among other things. Dominique spent quite a lot of time being minded by the television and from this she developed a noticeable American twang, which faded over time. It was also perhaps the cradle of her talent as a voice actor.

I met Dominique when she was about nine or ten because her older brother, Joe, was in my homeroom. Joe had a striking social conscience. He was always organising others to come with him to help homeless people at St Mary’s House of Welcome. Even as he was approaching his final exams, this commitment remained important. He once rang me during the holidays, when I was away with my family, to ask if there was something he could be doing for St Mary’s. He wanted to arrange some Christmas hampers. Dominique, at the time, sometimes seemed in his shadow. Their mother, Agnes, occasionally sent zesty morsels to our class, even when their restaurant was struggling. The food industry is tough. It can starve the very people who feed others.

Dominique grew in confidence during the three years she was in my class. I ran into her one Sunday, when she was working in a burger restaurant near where my son had been playing soccer and to which we had recourse to replace the calories that had been lost to the game. Dominique came over to our table and told us the burgers may have been better but this didn’t mean they were good.

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