I was talking to the savvy owner of a successful casual fine dining restaurant yesterday about restaurant marketing.

"Well, Ellen," he said, "the thing about a fine dining restaurant is that if you look at the metrics and study the data, 99 percent of your customers are once-a-year visits. That's just the bottom line. If someone is a five-time annual diner, you should build him a throne."

It was shocking to me, of course, seeing as most casual fine dining business plans I see postulate that diners will come to eat $30-an-entree meals once a week.

I am not saying that there aren't a few precious diners who can and do eat in semi-fancy restaurants that often.  And I am not saying that a restaurant can't be successful with once-a-year diners. My friend proves year in and year out that it absolutely can be done.

I am just wondering how a business plan would change, how the marketing would change, if a restaurateur knew, prior to opening, that this 99 percent once-a-year thing is the reality. 

I have a problem with everyone's fixation on breaking news.

In the olden days (2007/8), breaking news kinda made sense. Journalists stayed relevant and seemed "on it" by being the one outlet with the story -- because if you had the story, no one else could report it until ... later.

Then, everyone became a tiny version of a news outlet. And news started leaking out all over. I still remembered the day when I figured out that the staff of an opening restaurant needed to know the opening day so they could show up, no matter what the owner wanted the media to know. And that staff had Twitter feeds.

Today, everything breaks nearly simultaneously. Or at least simultaneously enough that, unless you are someone with a bank of eight computer screens (or, soon, the fancy new 27" Apple Cinema Display), monitoring all the various social media outlets, blogs, and MSM websites, it is really quite impossible to know who broke what, when. Unless, of course, the "news" includes some variation on the outdated, self-aggrandizing announcement, "You heard it here first."

But there are a few things you should know about this madness of breaking news so you can use journalists' obsession with it to your advantage.

Breaking News Axiom #1: In a world where breaking news is the holy grail, journalists are digging, digging, digging. And they will report what they find.

Cautionary tale: A restaurateur I know got a little sideswiped by a journalist who followed him on Facebook, where he was posting updates about an exciting new restaurant he is opening. He wasn't ready to announce it to the media. I'm not even sure if the people who owned the space he was going into, a restaurant still in operation, had even told the staff about the eminent closing. But there it was, out there for all to see -- because he posted it on Facebook -- and a new restaurant is breaking news, so the journalist wrote about it. Within nanoseconds, another outlet followed suit. Then everyone else.

The Lesson: Use the fact that journalists are following you on Facebook to your advantage. If you are developing a new venture, as above, as soon as you can get the word out and before you really even have the details, start posting. A lot of people assume they should hold back, be cautious, wait until they're ready. Why? That only shortens your news cycle when you want to extend it as long as possible. So, develop a name, develop a basic concept, and post away -- you'll be in control of your news, not someone on surprise attack.

Breaking News Axiom #2: In a world where breaking news is the holy grail, journalists are all begging, begging, begging to get the news first so they can break it and be the only news outlet for 35 seconds who has reported that particular news.  

Cautionary tale: Another restaurateur who is gearing up for an important opening is getting cornered by a journalist -- a powerful journalist -- who wants an exclusive. The journalist who posts the story, of course, takes advantage of all the links that come with breaking news. It's what I call the "Breaking News on the Internet Promotion Loophole." You see, the new trend in breaking news on the Internet is that each journalist who covers the story that has already "broken" includes a link to where the information originated.

The Lesson:  Break the news yourself. If you break it yourself, they'll all loop back to you, and all those readers will be sitting on your front doorstep, ringing madly for you to let them in.

Just do me a favor; make sure you -- and your website -- are ready for company.

Digging around, I happened upon some quotes from Abraham Lincoln and was struck by his words. Used to galvanize a nation, they also translate to restaurant marketing. Surprise!

"Give me six hours to chop down a tree, and I will spend the first four hours sharpening the axe."

Lincoln was known for his wise words and here are some mighty wise words, all around. Especially for marketing. Chefs usually spend a lot of time putting together the elements of a menu. They understand the investment in the process pays off with dishes that are well thought-out, balanced and delicious in every way. Then, they turn to marketing and assume that they can do one promotion and it'll move the needle on their profits overnight. Unfortunately, great marketing takes longer to hone than a great dish, or even a great menu. It happens slowly, customer by customer, because you've paid attention to details, thought things through and dug in for the long haul.

"Things may come to those who wait, but only the things left by those who hustle."

Remember when your high school basketball coach clapped his hands and exclaimed "Let's hustle!"?  What he really meant was, "Get off your lazy, distracted, teenaged ass and move."  Do something. Often. A lot. More than the next guy. Thinking that good things drop into the laps of people who are sitting around, lazy and distracted, on the bench, is bunk. They come to those who hustle. How do you know if you are hustling enough?  Answer yourself one question: Are you achieving your dreams?  

"That some achieve great success, is proof to all that others can achieve it as well."

Okay, here I think Lincoln let us down just a bit. I kinda wish that Lincoln had added some sort of hustle or axe-sharpening quip to the end of this quote, because I think a lot of people think great success just falls from the sky (see above). But he did say "achieve." And to achieve is to act. You have to act. Maybe more than the next guy, maybe less. But still act.

"Reputation is like fine china, once broken it's very hard to repair."

Reputation is more than just how tasty your food is. Reputation is not swearing at line cooks, it's returning phone calls to media. It's being respectful to your publicist as a professional, and not trying to squeeze every last penny out of the farmer who is trying to raise food respectably. I know one chef around town who owes just about every publicist money -- and believe me, when the new publicist called me up to ask me about working for that chef, I suggested that above all else, above however nice that person seemed now, all funds should be gotten up front. Unfortunately, the chef didn't have that kind of money, and so couldn't afford the work. That's what Lincoln was talkin' 'bout.

"We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses."

When you are a chef, the public talks about you so there is always a great opportunity out there to be pissed off about something someone said or wrote. Or, you could be happy that someone is writing something or saying something about you. Take the long view, and if the long view is a bunch of bad press, refer to the quote above.

"The way for a young man to rise is to improve himself in every way he can..."

Notice that Lincoln didn't just call out the food, the cooking. He was a smart man. He said every way. Being a chef today is more than just the kitchen work you have to do. It is about honing your writing skills and interview skills and calling-reporters-back skills. It is about learning what makes an idea a great story and how to develop a compelling promotion with advance notice. It is about attending to your chefdom in every way.

Four score and seven years ago (87 years), Escoffier had just published his Guide Culinaire. Chefs were tradesmen, toiling in the back of kitchens for the most part.

One score ago (twenty years), TVFN was on the verge of launching. The age of the celebrity chef was upon us. 

Seven years ago, Facebook didn't exist and blogs were still a fringe movement. Things have changed a lot in not such a long time -- but the wisdom of Lincoln remains relevant.

Gather journalists for a panel session on dos and don'ts for successful media placement, and the pet peeves that emerge are typically the same. I thought it might be helpful to just bang out a list today, just as a reminder or a primer for anyone and everyone who is communicating with the media:

Today features a guest post from Michael Gebert. Michael does the video podcast and blog Sky Full of Bacon (skyfullofbacon.com) and writes about food for several local publications.

I don't have anything to add specifically to the whole Lollapalooza-Graham Elliott Bowles-vs.-Chicago Mag kerfuffle, even though, or maybe because, I attended the perfectly pleasant event Monday night. That it blew up so badly the next day left me feeling sort of like, "Nice baptism! Hey, did anybody hear that Moe Green got shot?"

But there's one point that I've been kind of kicking around in my head. Various commenters have said words to the effect that Chicago Mag's writer "knew the rules" or "broke the rules" when they reviewed the food. This is clear, they suggested, "because we all know what the rules are."

We do?  Do we know where they're posted?  Is there anywhere good to eat around there?

One problem is a term I've had my own tangles with before: "review." Obviously if you invite journalists to try food, the presumption is that some may write about it. (That might even be the intention behind inviting them.)  But at what point does "write about it" become a "review"?  Letter grades, a blunt instrument of reviewing to be sure, are one pretty good indicator, I guess. But is any comment at all a review?  Did the sentence or so I wrote about Sunda's pork belly bao oblige me to follow the full regulations of the Tribune's reviewing policies and responsibilities?  Because I have a pretty short, Bowles-esque response to anyone who tries to saddle me with all that, unless they're willing to cough up the expense account that goes with it.

But here's a bigger, more practical question which nobody seems to be asking. If the discussion is all about what responsibility journalists owe to restaurants... what's the goal?  What is it that restaurants and their PR folks are after here?  What business objective is it serving for you, holding journalists to the fire like this?  

The goal, presumably, is to generate coverage. But I sometimes see behaviors that seem to be working strongly against that goal, especially when it comes to bloggers, or blogger-freelancer-whatevers like myself.

I went to one of your typical Wednesday afternoon PR events a while back, and then blogged about it-- generally favorably, but I had some issues with this or that. I soon heard about my ingratitude from the PR firm, who've never invited me to anything since. Clearly, I'd have been wiser to keep my mouth shut-- and, indeed, when I talked to other writers who'd gone that day, they admitted that they almost never wrote directly about such events, in part to stay on the gravy train.

Similarly, I attended a special dinner with other bloggers/whatever at a noted restaurant, and afterwards I was the only one to write anything of consequence about it-- quite favorable compared to an earlier experience at that restaurant, as it turned out. Sure enough, it wasn't long before I heard some grumbling about some minor details which seemed to rankle the host. If only I'd managed to keep my mouth shut like everyone else did, it would have been a perfect event.

Now, I'm a grownup and neither of these is any big deal, really. But the point of blogging is freedom; God knows if it's going to be revenue free, it'd better be free in every other way too. And I'm pretty sure the point of publicity is to encourage coverage-- not to feed journalists and then incentivize their not talking about you.

The point is, well, as Ellen said the other day, if you're Graham Elliott Bowles, you can do anything and see where it goes. But for mere mortals the point is, if you want publicity, if you want to cultivate this new media world of bloggers and quasi-professionals and who knows what, you need to do so in a way that doesn't immediately make them wary of you and how you'll react to what they write. Because we don't have the institutional backing and ability to blow off pressure that staff writers do, and so we have to protect ourselves in other ways.

The fact is, incidents like the ones above, minor as they were, have made it harder for you to get me out for something. If I suspect your new place is going to be a dog, I'll just turn down your invite rather than risk having to figure out how to post diplomatically about it without pissing a powerful PR firm off. Your $16 worth of salmon ceviche and signature Appletini don't seem worth the headache to me-- which is undoubtedly a disservice to some genuinely talented chef every now and then. Is that really the access and new media savvy clients are paying for?

Ultimately, you need the sang-froid to attract bloggers, freelancers, journalists en masse and then let them be their real selves, even if a few of them bite the hand that (literally) feeds them. And trust that in the long run you and your clients will be better off being talked about than not being talked about-- because, really, nobody like me would do this for the opportunity to smear good restaurants and chefs. We do it because we love food, we love how great the scene in Chicago is... and part of what keeps it great is that the conversation we have about it has pretty high standards and is willing every now and then to whack a place that doesn't cut it. The alternative, frankly, is cultivating only hypercooperative writers whom nobody will want to read after a while-- because they're so obviously in somebody's pocket.

I don't plan anything I don't need to plan. I don't make decisions until I need to make them and usually, I don't even seriously think about something unless I have to. For the record, though it has nothing to do with this blog post, I hardly remember anything that isn't mission-critical.

That said, in yesterday's tech meeting, we were at a place where we could project out to a stealth launch and a Beta launch of our new RIA products: spoonfeed, mediafeed and soapbox.

Spoonfeed is a web-based marketing and communication tool for chefs. It solves just about all the problems I encountered as a restaurant publicist. It's a closed social network for restaurants around the country to engage with each other and take their shoes off. It seems that many chefs are really attracted to this idea. On FB they have to be more on-point because they can't get away from diners or media.

It's got:

• A private social networking site for the restaurant industry -- giving, say, GEB, a chance to mouth off "publicly" but without as much fallout
• A calendar for charity event information where we store the paperwork and can loop in staffers involved -- because they always want to know what events are coming up and I always got sick of resending the paperwork a million times because the chef "lost it"
  
• A platform for collaborative communication so everyone knows what everyone else is saying without having to hit "reply all" -- cause most restaurant staffers didn't read the instructions on "reply all"
  
• A way for us to ask a lot of chefs a lot of questions (cause we need to ask little piddly questions like "what kind of food truck would you open?") and yet chefs get justifiably frustrated about receiving "too many emails, some that are a waste of time" in the middle of finding out the fish order never arrived
  
• A scheduled pinger for holidays so no one has to remember to ask if anything is going on -- cause no one ever remembers to plan far enough in advance for journalists since only journalists have editorial calendars to remind them
  
• And a few more bells and whistles specifically designed to make chefs want to visit the site each day -- cause they aren't gonna go online and get their marketing work done unless we make it rocking awesome
  

Mediafeed is our portal for media of all kinds. It solves the problem of tracking media requests and making sure answers are completed fully.

It's got:

• Search and filter functions designed for finding chefs and restaurants -- because a good search system can really make life a lot easier
  
• Structured communication tools to help journalists understand all the questions a restaurant has when they get a media request -- cause no one would ever believe the confusion that reigns when journos ask for a simple photo
  
• Structured distribution of the request to ensure it gets to the right person who is gonna make things happen, not just the person the journalist thinks they want to talk to (why, just yesterday I got a nasty email from a journo who was upset the restaurant owner hadn't responded to a photo request)

Driven by spoonfeed, Soapbox is a public-facing website that features structured, lifestream-style biographies for restaurant personnel. This solves the problems of 1) dated, dusty biographies that all contain a reference to grandma and her recipe for short ribs, and 2) the fact that LinkedIn doesn't really work for restaurant personnel and Facebook is too general.

It's got:

• Essential and extended information that answers the basic questions of employment, education, awards, stages, accolades -- cause Facebook totally misses the great opportunity of sharing chef stages and accolades in an organized way
  
• Structured profiles for various categories of restaurant staff, starting with the glamoury ones of chefs, mixologists, sommeliers, owners, etc. -- because each job has its own unique and compelling stories to tell
  
• Questionnaires that cover everything from inspirations, off-duty passions, philosophies, ideas on the state of the industry, etc. -- because we realized that although chefs need to blog to share who they are, they don't really know what to say (but we do!)
  
• The opportunity for chefs to tell their own story, as it unfolds, each day -- because one dinner can change a chef's inspiration and focus and his bio should change with it so we understand who he is today and not who he was when his bio got penned
  

So, we launch in stealth on August 6. What that means is that we'll invite in a bunch of free beta users -- all the Chicago-area people who have inquired about RIA in these last few months since we stopped taking clients so we could concentrate on all this work -- and all our friends from around the country. If you've already inquired with us via email, you'll get an invite. If you called me and asked for a meeting and didn't follow up via email, I am sorry I am quite sure I forgot (see last sentence, first paragraph). If you want to get on the list, email GJ at restaurantintelligenceagency.com and it's first-come, first-served until we hit capacity.

This will give us a few weeks to redesign the site (currently the design is based on RIA and our best guess how it will work) and make the necessary changes we discover with actual usage. It also gives users a chance to fill out the questionnaires and spruce up their profiles.

Then, on September 17, we launch our Beta -- and we'll get to see if I aimed right when I started building this bomb a few years back.

Who decides your success? You or someone else?

• The chef who sits around wondering why the media aren't writing about him. His success is dependent upon whether someone else finds him interesting.
• The author who sits around waiting for a publisher to pick up his book. His success is dependent upon whether someone else thinks other people will find him interesting.
• The publicist who sits around wondering how to get a story written when her clients isn't making news. His success depend upon whether someone else will think someone else is interesting.

These days, I spend a lot of time thinking about how to build software that manages the measurement of our success. What I mean by that is that I want our users to decide if the product does what it promises to do based on what we create the software to do.  Not based on their idea of what the software should do.

I want my success to be dependent on me, be defined by me. Not someone else.

Who defines yours?

Seven people sent me an email last night about a chef and his Facebook post. Graham Elliot, a chef I don't rep or even actually know that well, had posted "Fuck Chicago Magazine" on Facebook. Presumably, though because his Facebook profile didn't elaborate, because of this article. 

I dunno about you, but I was expecting something a lot more salacious than the mild, obviously-trying-to-find-a-fresh-angle-because-everyone-is-reporting-this-story event report from Cassie Walker. I was hoping for Scandal! Intrigue! Slander! Possibly a photo essay of GEB in flagrante delicto with a server in the walk-in!

His FB posts seem to have deleted or hidden comments, either that or some gal named April Lee is having a rather odd conversation with herself. So, one can only guess, unless they know him and can ask. I don't, really, so I am left to guessing that GEB is upset that Walker reported his comments about wanting to sell stuff. Or maybe because there was an admission that a PR firm was involved. Some people hate when that happens. I mean, there are some negatives in the food critique, but it's no hatchet job.

Or maybe that is just part of the brilliant marketing strategy of GEB. He who makes a name for himself by way of Speedo-clad profile pictures, lashing out at Yelpers, and in general unleashing the whole of his larger-than-life personality writ large across the pages of every blog, magazine, and foodie Twitter feed.

I had been completely immune to the Lollapalooza Cheffie Fest, not being a festival-goer myself. That is until this morning when I finally took a peek at GEB's FB, Googled the article, read it, slavered over the food (I want to eat that food! Who cares about egg dripping down my face!), drank some coffee and started this post.

And now certainly a number of you are clicking, reading, drooling, thinking, and possibly running over to Sunda and demanding a delicious Bao. Now.

Because GEB does this to us. He wills us to pay attention, even to his Lollapalooza preview. Even if we decided long ago that going to the inaugural Lollapalooza was enough (Jane's Addiction rocked that party), and even if we have a personal credo to not eat chef food while standing up -- and thus don't care about the standing-up food that will be served to the Lollapalooza crowd. And he has worked at this for a good long while. Even, it seems, when he doesn't mean to.

GEB is a polarizing figure. Some love his food. Some are so dazzled by his persona that they think they love his food. Some hate him. Some hate his food. Some haven't eaten his food and decided they don't like it just because he is who he is.  But we all know him -- or of him. He is everywhere.

And (this is the part you should really pay attention to) magically, he is monstrously over-exposed but in an amazing way that somehow maintains relevance. He keeps the story going. He keeps it interesting. He pulls us back in. When we see another story about him, we don't roll our eyes because we've seen it before. We read it because there is always something new.

GEB isn't afraid, never has been, to be himself and speak his mind. And once social media hit, his character personal brand simply grew as he navigated the new platforms, deciding how to make them work for himself. To everyone who demands there is a right way and a wrong way to social media, I simply say, "GEB." The dude is still following No. One. on Twitter! Though at least he is now interacting with people.

And he works hard at all that (apparently while simultaneously living hard and cooking hard). While everyone else fusses about how they can't possibly post a status update to Facebook because they are working so hard in the kitchen, GEB works hard in the kitchen, powers a FB page and a Twitter feed, makes his own music, does interviews, wrangles in a music festival to his world, and so on.

Not that I am condoning that chefs go out there and drop the F-bomb about an important local publication. That's an exploding IED only a few people should dare to detonate. But I think any chef who is sitting around wondering why no media seem fascinated and entranced by their Contemporary American with French Influences Small Plates Cuisine with a Twist should study GEB. Study his development of a personal brand. 

Because the journalists write about him. Even the ones who (while being journalistically impartial) seem to hate him, flutter around him like moths at a light.

So, as far as marketing goes, I'm thinking GEB should be a class at culinary school. And probably business school as well. If nothing else, you, chef, should school yourself in the world that is GEB.

Bravo, Chef.  (But do run for cover.)

99.9 % of people don't go to dinner to be "educated."
97.2% of people don't go to your website to "experience the restaurant," they want to check the menu and confirm the address.
What people want to hear is more important than what you want to say.
If a critic can "order wrong" there is something wrong with your menu.
If you ask someone what they think and they like everything, disregard their opinion.
Don't ever tattle on the journalist who dines and dashes.
No one cares "how hard you tried," they care about their experience and the meal's value vis-a-vis their lives.
Telling a chef you didn't like something is like telling your girlfriend she looks fat. Only difference? Chefs have knives.
Don't ever write a nasty note to a critic.
Giving away free stuff to "food mafia" is better than any advertising.
Crappy reviews are a blessing if you choose not to disguise it.
It isn't that people don't get you, it's that you don't get marketing.
Press releases are mostly spam mail and often deleted before they are read.
If you want to be famous, get your ass out there and meet people (not just journalists).
If you can't write a blog because you have nothing to say, why would anyone else find you interesting?
You have the time, you haven't made your dreams a priority.
Most national journalists don't find out about you from a publicist.
Critics like to think they are anonymous, just go with that.
"Everybody" isn't a target market.
If you want to know your target market, go stand and look at the people eating in your restaurant.
Unfair is just another word for life.
One person's formula for success is another person's trip to the poorhouse.
If you want to know why journalists ignore you, read forty press releases. If you are still awake, read yours.
It isn't that the location is wrong, it's that you put the wrong restaurant there.
Your chef coat is your own personal retail frontage. Not even Tiffany's storefront looks good during a NYC garbage strike.

From Paul Fehribach, Big Jones
Every single day, remember that you are in business.
Make your numbers.

This was also inspired by Hugh MacLeod. He is brilliant. Cartoonists are often the most brilliantist of all.

Cooking isn't the only hard job on the planet.
Be nice to your suppliers.
Chefs who are dicks aren't cool, they are dicks.
Relish in your obscurity so you can improve first.
An overnight sensation isn't.
Customers are more important than media.
Media coverage doesn't always make customers.
Don't let your ego dictate your goals.
You are responsible for your words.
Learn to type so you can send an email, tweet or write a blog.
Get a camera and share.
Your servers are more important to success than your cooks.
Cook from your heart.
Concept is everything.
Just because everyone likes everything doesn't mean you'll stay in businss.
The hip 1000 move on.
Fame is never bestowed, it is attained.
Being on "Iron Chef" is not a realistic goal.
Nobody cares about you, no matter who you are.
Participate in the community.
Don't back out of events.
If your success depends on being discovered, you'll likely fail.
A bunch of adjectives cleverly strung together is not a valid concept.
Develop a good story.
The pace of change in the world is speeding up.
Fancy plates don't make the food taste better.

Inspired by Hugh MacLeod