Now that social media forums such as Twitter and Facebook (and rockingly innovative companies like Restaurant Intelligence Agency) have more or less eliminated the publicist barrier between reporters and chefs, I'm getting lots of questions from chefs along the lines of, "Big Important Journalist just FB'ed me out of the blue and asked me to tell them about me. What do I say?"

What they are asking, of course, is what would I say about them as a chef if the reporter called me.  That's been the primary function of a publicist for decades: to package their clients' brilliance and dose it out to reporters in easy-to-swallow bites.

But these days, social media is giving reporters direct access to chefs (and other sources) like never before, so it's more important than ever for chefs to be ready with their own Chef Elevator Speech.

Every entrepreneur -- and that includes chefs, restaurateurs, and, yes, even self-employed publicists -- needs an elevator speech, a short (30-second or less) spiel about you and your current work at the ready in case Lady Luck strikes and you find yourself stuck on the proverbial elevator with The One Person who can make your career/idea/business soar.

You've got seconds to make it happen. It's as easy as ABC. Go.

Avoid hyperbole, unless, of course, you want to come across as an egomaniacal blowhard or a publicist in chef's clothing. Explain your idea accurately, and use details to show, not tell. For instance, if you're from Chicago and tell the Big Important Person you source 100 percent locally, weave in a bit about the coolest summer bounty you canned last year and what you plan to freeze for winter '09.

Be brief, an obvious quality of any good elevator speech. Even if the elevator you happen to be stuck on is headed to the Sears Tower Skydeck, you've only got moments -- and you want to leave them asking for more. Try to narrow your idea -- whether it's your new restaurant concept, tasting menu, or drink -- down to three sentences, and then try it again in just one. That way, no matter if you've got one floor or 96, you can spit it out.

Finally, continue to compel. This is usually the toughest quality to achieve in a killer elevator speech, because it requires knowing how high the bar is and how your idea compares. If you're a chef doing molecular gastronomy in Chicago, you'd likely need some spin other than the graceful artistry of Achatz or the insane spectacle of Cantu. And don't tell me your place is "casual, yet sophisticated," "all about farm-to-table" or (and I've been told this), "like Blackbird, only better."  (No, it wasn't; yes, it's closed.)

The only way to perfect your elevator speech is to jot it down and then practice it out loud -- and not just in front of a mirror. If you want to try yours out, give me a call. We can practice it while we ride up to Hancock Tower's Signature Lounge. I know the chef there and heard he is rocking it out.  You're buying.