What are they coming for?

Standing in the expo during a busy brunch shift a server approached me with a serious question. “Chef, where is the egg salad sandwich button?” Curiously I said, “We don’t have an egg salad sandwich, but who is asking for one.” He pointed to an elderly gentleman sipping coffee with his wife.

Wanting to make a stranger happy I approached the table.

“Good morning sir, I came to let yall know that we don’t have egg salad on the menu, but you seem like a man that is really craving an egg salad,” I said, “as long as this is our secret we can make it happen.”

Having put a smile on the man’s face I went to the kitchen. Back in the kitchen, I grabbed a mixing bowl. A few chopped eggs, fresh herbs, diced pickles, and a handful of pantry staples later, the man was enjoying his egg salad on a bagel. But this is not about making egg salad, it’s about what restaurants can become. A place where we don’t just feed stomachs, we feed souls.

This wasn’t always who I was. For many years working in restaurants I operated under the delusion that food was the point of the whole experience. As someone that looked at Chefs as the ultimate goal, what other reason would a person want to go to a restaurant that wasn’t the food.

Progressing from restaurants to resorts, food seemed to be the main event and everything else was window dressing. This thought started to change when I started to work at San Antonio Spurs arena.

Working there I had to come to terms with the fact that even though the food was an important part of the experience it paled to the highs and lows of the court. We could get creative and make fun food that fit the environment, but the weight was on the success of the team whether we would have guests or not.

A seed was planted that would then start to grow when I became the chef of a local restaurant that was very much food focused but as I started to think about the restaurant a deeper understanding started to be felt.

If people aren’t coming for the food then what are they coming for?

People grow attached to the things they enjoy. Personally I have strong feelings for my mom’s pot roast. For 5 years after culinary school, my mom would not cook for me because she didn’t feel her food was up to par. I had to finally sit down and let her know that I am not craving Gordon Ramsay’s version of a pot roast, it was her version that I reminisced about. It was the consistency of the recipe and making sandwiches with the slightly dried out meat that reminded me of being a kid.

When we are creating an experience that guests love, the worst thing we can do is to take that away from them. They need to know that when they come in they are going to have the same level of service, attentiveness and the flavors of their favorite dish are going to be there. Their memories are going to be reignited.

A friend of mine is a local baker who does a great job with keeping her fan base in anticipation with unhinged pastries that leave people stunned and amazed. Her father’s day “Cream Pie Me” cookies created an interesting exchange between her and a gray haired gentleman trying to figure out if he was a “Daddie” or a “Zaddie”. She doesn’t change the flavor; she changes the experience of the cookie. As much as we have need for what we remember, we still need something new every once in a while. A fun surprise that fits your brand is always going to keep your guests invested in your journey.

Once we had a young dinosaur enthusiast come in and informed us that his favorite dinosaur was a Triceratops. Those bits of personal information are invaluable when making memories. Not wanting to fumble this great opportunity we delivered a surprise triceratops sundae on the table by the end of the meal. I pointed out to the team that was aware that they should watch the parents’ reaction, and sure enough the Dad’s eyes lit up more than his son’s. The power of that act went beyond the child to his parents, because few things will make mom and dad happy as watching strangers go out of their way to make their kids feel special.

We had a very special regular who would show up without appointment but like clockwork every Wednesday morning. He was a recent widower that was working through his loss and those weekly visits were part of his therapy. Enjoying his meal with his wife’s ring on the table the restaurant became his safe space.

Over time he became a part of the place. He knew the servers by name, and handed out Christmas cards to the line cooks. Eventually it didn’t matter what the day of the week was, he would just stop by when he needed to visit his friends. Often bringing some kind of trinket that he thought would cheer a team member’s day. We weren’t a restaurant for him any more, we became his community.

We all have the ability to cook great food. But too curate an experience, trigger a memory, craft a story, and be there for our friends and neighbors, separates the good restaurant from the needed restaurant.