The Cult of Good Enough

Ottawa has made a religion out of “good enough.” The city doesn’t just tolerate mediocrity—it rewards it. A restaurant that manages to be merely competent can thrive here for decades, buoyed by loyal regulars who confuse consistency with quality, and critics who don’t exist.

Menus lean toward the safest possible ground: steak frites, tuna crudo, the token charcuterie plate. These aren’t failures of imagination so much as calculated decisions—because in Ottawa, ambition is punished. Push too far, and the city looks away. Play it safe, and the city lines up.

The cult thrives because it serves everyone: diners who want reassurance, owners who want reliable margins, and an industry that has learned that applause comes easier when you aim lower. The result is a dining scene where the ceiling is low but the floor feels comfortable.

The tragedy is that “good enough” has become the benchmark. A new restaurant is praised not for being extraordinary, but for being slightly better than the last safe bet. In other cities, this would be the minimum. Here, it’s celebrated.

And until Ottawa decides it wants more, “good enough” will remain the city’s highest culinary honor.