“I think food, culture, people, and landscape are all absolutely inseparable.”

— Anthony Bourdain

There is something unexpectedly sacred about sitting down to a prix fixe meal. Long before the first dish arrives, the experience offers an important invitation: slow down. Be here. The meal will unfold at its own pace. In a moment marked by choice, efficiency, and immediacy, a prix fixe menu moves at a different rhythm—one shaped by presence, patience, and delight. It creates, in a simple and tangible way, a place where we become more aware of our senses and the people sitting beside us.

The prix fixe meal’s origin was rooted in hospitality. “Prix fixe” is a French term that translates to “fixed price” in English. Auguste Escoffier was responsible for the first prix fixe menu in Monte Carlo in the late 1800s. He wanted to curate the experience and minimize decisions for inexperienced customers to avoid the embarrassment of not understanding the menu. The structure of the menu was simple: trust the chef, trust the process, trust that something good will come in time, course by course. Beneath the culinary creativity, the heart of a prix fixe menu is a meal meant to be received.

A restaurant that offers a prix fixe menu offers a sanctuary of pace. It is a conscious choice to surrender our personal preference and receive the gift of the kitchen’s direction. It is receiving the freedom of releasing control. It is based in the Biblical belief that limits are not only good but expand my capacity to be my true self. The pace slowly shifts our posture throughout the dinner to one of anticipation and appreciation. During the season of Advent, a prix fixe menu can be a tangible expression of what it is to watch and wait.

A prix fixe meal arrives one course at a time. At a table where we trust and receive what is prepared, there is embodied learning that presence is more nourishing than preference. Part of the joy of a prix fixe menu is taking the risk of not liking something for the payoff of discovering something we never even knew we would like. Our lives are filled with so many options that cater to our preferences. A prix fixe menu reminds us that sometimes our preferences are not always what is best for us. We can self-determine ourselves into isolation. Rarely are our choices perfectly aligned with the choices of others. A prix fixe menu submits our preferences to choose a shared experience. Do we get exactly what we want? Not always. But in some ways, we get more.

Amid the holiday season, often marked by hurry, decisions, and noise, a prix fixe meal is a place which invites a different pace. It teaches us that savoring is a form of gratitude, and that presence is one of the greatest gifts we can give and receive. A prix fixe meal invites a posture of anticipation—trusting and receiving each course will arrive. It is a unique way food can teach us patience and presence. A prix fixe menu is a sacred place.

Thank you to Steven Strott and Patrick Pearson for their contributions to this article and their shared appreciation for the prix fixe menu.

Find a spectrum of prix fixe meal options in Denver at
Somebody People, Two Hands, and Margot.