What makes a compelling restaurant concept?
When I was a kid growing up in California in the early 1970s, a family friend took me to a Chinese restaurant in San Francisco called Sam Wo. It wasn’t known for its food, but rather for its abusive headwaiter, whose name I still remember — Edsel Ford (his full name was Edsel Ford Fung). It was a bustling, busy place in Chinatown. You had to climb up the stairs to get to the second floor (or was it third floor?), walking through a chaotic kitchen on the way to what I remember as a bare-bones dining room; I think we sat at a counter. I can’t remember what we ate, or what Mr. Fung yelled at us, but yell he did — he was known for commanding diners to “Sit down and shut up!” As a kid I found this hilarious.
As restaurant concepts go, this one may seem strange: We’re a Chinese restaurant with mediocre food and cartoonishly poor hospitality.
But it worked. In fact, people flocked to Sam Wo! The place was perpetually packed, for decades. It had been beloved by Beat poets in the ‘50s, popularized by famed San Francisco Chronicle columnist Herb Caen in the 60s and immortalized by writer Armistead Maupin in his “Tales of the City” novels (1978-2014).
Its last day of operation was in 2012. Edsel Ford was long gone (he passed away in 1984), the restaurant, infested with vermin, had been condemned, and the owner couldn’t afford to bring it up to code. That didn’t stop San Franciscans from making one last visit: There was a line out the door.
Does this remind you of the Soup Nazi in “Seinfeld”? Me, too. Soup Nazi was fictional, but it was inspired by a midtown Manhattan stand called Soup Kitchen International, which owner Ali Yegeneh 1989 ruled with an iron whisk. (Big difference: The soup in both was well worth the wait and abuse.)
I’m certainly not suggesting that if you want to open a restaurant, or make the one you’re already operating more successful, that you should be nasty to your guests. In fact I would strongly recommend the opposite. But I am suggesting that if you want to succeed, you need a concept that’s easy to explain and that stands out. Ideally it will be a concept that suggests an experience — one that your guests will tell their friends about after they dine there.
What’s a viable concept?
A restaurant that’s a viable concept is special — in some way. It offers an experience you’ll want to tell your friends about; it has a story to tell. A great concept is one that’s unique, one where you’d be excited to go even if you’d never heard of the people behind it. In some cases, it could also be something that exists in other cities or towns, but not yours.
“I’m a really good chef, and I’m opening a restaurant” is not a viable concept. It’s too squishy. Unless you live in a very small town, even if you’re known among well informed foodies, your name (unfortunately) probably won’t mean anything to most people in your community.
Not even the best known chefs in the country, people like Nancy Silverton or David Chang, would be so silly as to think that “I’m Nancy Silverton and I’m opening a restaurant” was a concept. And yet every year, in every city and town across America, such non-concepts attract investors and manage to get opened. After their splashy openings and moments in the media spotlight fade — a few months in, maybe a year if they’re very lucky and very good — they struggle mightily to attract guests. That’s because they don’t tell a story that makes people want to show up.
Here are some concepts that are not viable, or not even concepts:
• We’re a farm-to-table restaurant
• We’re an Italian restaurant
• We’re a New American restaurant with [fill-in-the-blank — French, Spanish, Mediterranean, Japanese] influences
• We’re a chef-driven neighborhood restaurant
• We’re a wine bar
Well, what’s wrong with those?
Farm-to-table restaurant. This was perhaps a viable concept 15 years ago, before the trend ballooned and the phrase became a meaningless, tired cliché. In truth, all produce and meats come from a farm, even if it’s an industrial farm, and wind up on a table. But it could be a concept, if you could make it meaningful again. For instance, are you a farmer who wants to invite the public to dine in your barn, maybe take a look at your fields and greenhouses first, then have a fabulous dinner (served family-style!) based on what’s just been harvested? That’s a concept. (Picture the story they tell they friends, who, of course, have to go there.)
Italian restaurant. That’s a reasonable starting point for a concept, but it needs to be fleshed out. Are you an over-the-top Italian spot where it’s impossible to get a reservation and we’re going to charge you an arm and a leg? That’s a concept that’s making its owners a fortune. Are you an Italian spot that serves only antipasti and pastas but no main courses, because pastas are really what people want? That’s a concept that’s been flourishing for nearly a decade. Are you an Italian spot focused around a mozzarella bar? That’s the fabulous concept that Nancy Silverton opened in 2007, Osteria Mozza. When it opened, all of foodie L.A. was abuzz with the idea that you could go there and there Silverton would be crafting little snacks from mozzarella behind that bar — that was a great story to tell your friends the next day.
New American with fill-in-the-blank influences. For starters, the phrase “New American” is passé. “New American” was new 40 years ago, in 1983. Modern American is a little better, but if it’s just that with some kind of accent, that’s not terribly compelling. Are you Taiwanese American, or Modern Brazilian or Upscale American Diner? Go for it, and push it far— do something fresh!
Chef-driven neighborhood restaurant. This is marginally better than “I’m a chef and I’m opening a restaurant,” but not by much. First, we are in a culture where chefs are no longer universally revered. A backlash against chef culture (abusive chefs with outsized egos, kitchen workplaces than have been misogynistic, racist and homophobic, etc) has encouraged a shift towards restaurants where it’s more about the vibe and the food than it is about the star behind it. Neighborhood restaurants are in (though too broad to be a viable concept). Chef-driven neighborhood restaurants? I believe their glow is fading. Also, if you’re the owner and you’re hiring that chef, or partnering with that chef, what happens when that chef leaves? Your concept falls apart. If you’re a neighborhood restaurant, what kind of neighborhood restaurant? What distinguishes you? Why should people spend their hard-earned-money to give you a try? And are you priced approachably enough to feel like a neighborhood restaurant?
Wine bar. Let’s try a dialogue. You: “I went to a wine bar last night.” Your friend: “Oh, cool. What kind of wine bar?” You: “Oh, I don’t know — a wine bar.” Friend: “Was it a natural wine bar?” You: “Well, maybe they have a few natural wines; I’m not sure.” Friend: “What kind of food do they serve?” You: “Oh, I don’t know — the usual — some charcuterie, some cheese, a few snacks. Salads. Sandwiches.” Friend: “Is it kind of French?” You: “Well, no — maybe a little Mediterranean. It was really good!” Your friend says maybe she’ll try it some time. She never does.
Here’s a different dialogue. You: “I went to a really cool French wine bar last night.” Friend: “Oh, what was it like?” You: “They have mostly natural wines, all from France, and delicious things that go with them — charcuterie, little French plates like leeks vinaigrette, brandade and crusty bread, stuff like that. For dessert they make an incredible Chartreuse soufflé.”
See what I mean? It’s specific, and well concepted. It gives you a story to tell. Your friend is there the very next night.
If you want to open a successful restaurant, dream up a viable, original concept, and then run with it.