Prudence is, if not the better part of valor, the worthier part of cooking. Years ago, in the Samana Peninsula of the Dominican Republic I found a group of French expats who ran restaurants for the region's then infant tourist trade -- many so-called Green Tourists from Europe, who arrived with nothing more than a backpack. Some of these French folk ran restaurants, sometimes set up in an old fisherman's shack, where one would find simple but elegant tablecloths and wine glasses -- and always a nice wine collection.

The dishes were also French. Or rather a wonderful mix -- I resist the overused word "fusion", which these days translates as food that's neither here nor there -- of local products and French kitchen knowhow. One memorable dish was grouper in Nantua sauce. Nothing innovative about it. The fish was what was available. The sauce what the French owners knew how to make.

But, and here's the rub, the menu also included stewed goat, chivo guisado, a Dominican classic. I asked how they made it and was told they simply let the Dominican cooks do what they wanted.

That attitude summed up for me why French culinary tradition is still the benchmark. It's a question of discipline and restraint. Undoubtedly, traditional French sauces can't be improved upon, and poured on a fresh filet of a fine regional fish like grouper it will create a magnificent dish. But Dominican stewed goat can't be improved upon either, so the French owners' attitude of lassier-faire was absolutely correct.

I tried both dishes and they were both great.

No reason to stay with French phrases. How about "if it ain't broke, don't fix it.'' Some chefs know this, too many don't. More on the former -- why dwell on the latter and ruin our appetites? -- in our area in a later post.