Focusing and Limiting, August 7, 2006 — We've spent some time talking about educating customers in terms of what you're about. This has some consequences that you should know about - you will have fewer of them. Let me explain...

There's a natural tendency in politics to hedge. Taking positions that offend no one are thought to offend no one. The problem with this thinking when it comes to creating a unique and long-lasting food experience (and when it comes to politics in my opinion) is that by offending no one, you typically don't inspire anyone either. Believe it or not there's a significant percentage of the population that aren't happy just not being offended. They want to be inspired. They are willing to put up with some opinions and perspectives they disagree with in exchange for the genuine article. There are plenty of folks who aren't stupid. They crave authenticity. And given how hard you're working to delivering consistent, high quality, food, aren't those the people you really want eating at your restaurant? How much repeat business will you get from someone who doesn't mind blandness, and doesn't recognize a phony?

Focus means limits. And limiting yourself to the customers who will love (not just inhale) your food means having a strong core audience for what you do. That audience may not love every dish you make, but they will love that your core values are about quality, consistency, and attention to detail. And once you find even a few of them, there's one last bit of education that you can do that will result in these high value customers not only flocking to your restaurant, but bringing their close friends as well. Read this carefully and then repeat it aloud:

The talent of the kitchen is ten times more important than the
ingredients in determining whether someone will like a dish.

This may seem counter-intuitive but it is true. And almost no diner in this country understands this simple fact. I have seen it time and time again. Friends who didn't like  foie gras, tomatoes, Vietnamese food, olives, mushrooms, etc. When taken to the right restaurant with a chef who finds the right ingredients, and really truly knows how to prepare them perfectly, each of those friends has suddenly warmed to ingredients or cuisines they have long despised. There are a couple of reasons for this.

First, it's possible that most of the examples of a particular hated ingredient served in this country are crap. Take tomatoes. At least 90% of the tomatoes that I've seen sold in the United States are  garbage. Mealy, tasteless, fibrous monstrosities. They look lovely, but they taste like shit. It's a wonder anyone who has spent years exposed almost exclusively to most tomatoes sold in this country would ever want to eat one. So picking the right ingredient is half the battle. Second, preparation is key. Two chefs can take the same piece of meat and come out with two totally different outcomes. One piece can turn into shoe leather, while the other tender, juicy, and enormously flavorful. With so many variables, in the stocking and preparation processes it's no wonder that the chef has such a large impact. But most Americans are trained to reject dishes that have ingredients they have traditionally disliked. This may be the single hardest thing to overcome. I still have trouble. And truth be told, there are still ingredients that no amount of perfect preparation will make me love. That said when I'm eating at a place I love, I often try to force myself to order the item on the menu that I assume I'd like the least. More often than not I end up discovering new wonderful flavors that I never would have known about.

Another example of this thinking involves the process of ordering one's meal. Most American diners assume that they are paying for the ability to choose from the broadest range of dishes possible to construct a dinner that meets their pre-conceived notions of what they're going to like. And frankly, at a restaurant that tries to accommodate this behavior that's probably your best bet. That restaurant is going for breadth not depth.

But imagine the counter-example. A restaurant with a fixed menu for everyone. (Maybe two to accommodate vegetarians or weird allergies but you get the point.) This is not a foreign concept in Europe. Quite the opposite. One of my favorite restaurants in Rome was run by an old woman who made three different dishes for dinner each night. You sat down at a table and you were served each in order. When the food ran out, they stopped serving customers. It was like eating at home. The chef chose what would be made, and you either ate it or you went hungry.

And isn't having the chef choose for you the ultimate service? For some reason many Americans look at this as an affront, or some kind of constraining of their personal liberties. Not choosing? But what if I get something I don't like? And what's funny is, who better to trust on what's good to eat that night than the chef? They're the ones who spent all the time at the market picking the best ingredients that are in season. They're the ones who put their heart and soul into preparing the dishes to feature those ingredients perfectly. If as a customer you're going to trust your own judgment over the chefs then why not just cook for yourself? And if as a chef, you don't create an atmosphere where your customers learn to trust your judgment (trying something and replacing it for free if they don't like it? giving samples to try as some restaurants do when they have customers compare glasses of wine?) then you will forever be unfocused, constantly trying to reach for some fuzzy goal expressed by customers who just want the same dish they've eaten a thousand times. (And that of course is one that you can't possibly make because you've never tasted it.)

If you believe you're capable of delivering dishes that make people who have hated a particular ingredient their whole lives change their minds, then you should understand why focus is important. It's not that customers shouldn't get what they want. It's not that you shouldn't try to be flexible. It's that if you really have a picture in your head of what you're trying to create, and through endless substitution and compromise you pare it back to a shadow of its former self you are no longer creating a timeless cuisines for your customers that they will rave about for years. You are now essentially a private cook trying to create food that matches the pre-conceived notions of your customers and their (likely) limited palates. Most restaurants will either through having very broad menus, or by customizing to an extreme degree try to do whatever it takes to fit the customer's vision of what they want to eat. That's a fine business but not one that lasts. Because customers' tastes change. Fads abound. And trying to be in fashion means that inevitably (unless you have unbelievable luck) you will be out of fashion soon enough.