The other day, I was at a friend’s house making pie. Well, actually, the husband was making pie and I was drinking wine. The Pie Guy makes good pies, so, as with most people who cook well, the idea of making a business of it came up.

“Can I make money making pies?” The Pie Guy asked.

“Do you want to make pies for a living? Do you love making pies that much? Enough to live the day-to-day, slim-profit slog that is a baking business?” I asked.

“I would if I could make money at it. Can I make a lot of money?”

"But I need to know how much you want to make pie in order to answer that question."

"As much as the amount of money I could make."

“Do you want me to answer your question, or do you want me to be excited and supportive about your pie-making idea, Pie Guy?”

I find that this is a very important question to ask most people who ask me what I think about their business. Because, well, I have a tendency to bluntly tell people what I think. And I have found, over time, that people don’t really want to know what I think, even though they ask.

People say they do. The chef who invites me in just after opening and wants my "honest feedback."  The restauratuer who calls after getting a mediocre review and wants some advice on "what to do."

I answer them, but mostly I find that people want me to tell them that they are brilliant. I have determined this because I have been fired and de-friended by people to whom I told the truth. 

And becuase I find that a lot of people seem to follow positive feedback with the idea that because I told them they are brilliant, they then magically are. They think this because it is the easiest way to resolve the situation they are in that led to them needing to ask me about what I think. Don’t solve the problem; just have someone tell you it doesn’t exist! Easy Peasy, right?

This sounds ridiculous. Actually, it is. But it is pretty much a situation many publicists find themselves in more often than they'd care to think without a long-term Xanax perscription. Because to most clients, publicists are some sort of extension of the media. So, to most clients, if the publicist can be convinced that the idea is brilliant, well, that means the media thinks so too, right?

And if that sounds ridiculous and you are a client, you now know how ridiculous you sound.

Many publicists, because they aren’t actually in charge of the bottom line (so losing a client always means an ass-whooping at the office), will find a way to make the client think they are, in fact, brilliant. Now, read that again — because I didn’t actually say they’d lie; I said they would make them think it. Publicists are generally very good at making that kind of distinction. Oh yeah, because that is their job.

I’ve never been able to do that, partly because I have always been in charge of the bottom line, but mostly because I know the future of pain I will live if I let a client gloss over a problem by simply hearing from me that they are brilliant. Instead, I generally tell clients what I think. And sometimes it ends up bad for my bottom line because occasionally, when I tell someone what I think, they decide they don’t like me and fire me.

Always, when that happens, I am happy.

Clients who ask publicists what they think when they don’t really want to know the answer are the worst clients to have, because those are the ones that end up trashing your reputation with their wackadoo ways.

They’ll ignore you when you tell them not to lie to the media about what day they are opening and then the media get pissed because you, the publicist, ended up telling them that lie (even if you didn’t know it was a lie).

They’ll argue that you’re wrong when the mediocre review comes out and you, the publicist, suggest that maybe the reviewer has a point that should be considered.

They’ll tell their friends you can’t do your job right when they don’t make the Hot List because, well, they botched their opening because they were impulsive and over-excited, ignored your suggestion that their concept was off-concept then strayed from the one you cobbled together in the hopes of developing something that at least made sense, and disregarded your many emails requesting a meeting so you, the publicist, could maybe get them on track and make them, well, Hot.

All of those scenarios end up in a frustrating waste of time. And basically just doing a frustrating waste of time all day, every day, is no way to make a living.

So, if you ask me what I think, know that you will get my honest and direct answer. It may not be right; I am certainly not the keeper of all the right ideas in the world. But it will be what I think.

But to the Pie Guy, I said, well, no, you won’t make money and really, unless you have some sort of crazy insane passion for making pies, you probably aren’t going to 1) do well or 2) even enjoy it.

And that tees up tomorrow’s post.

In the early days of Googling — back before it even became a verb in its own right — I remember people sheepishly admitting to Googling their own names to find out what the Internet “was saying about them.” At the time, the practice seemed vain or paranoid, thus the secrecy.

Today, Googling yourself or your business is commonplace, even advised for people who care about their own or their business’s image. After all, it’s not really the Internet that’s doing the talking; it’s people with strong opinions and plenty of influence, thanks to the Internet.

Here's me and here's my company and here's what comes up when I Google my business category. And yes, I am vested in the fact that RIA should come up first.

Let me give you a good example of why Googling your business is a good idea:  right now, stop reading this and go Google Big Star Chicago.  When you do, you'll see a map and a Google listing — and, when I wrote this, 14 reviews. Take a peak at those reviews and you'll see a train wreck in the making.

Big Star opened recently in the old Pontiac space, so the address is the same.  The thing is, the bathrooms are not.  And that's a good thing.  Google, in its infinite wisdom, pulls information from review sites based on address. And review sites are not up on every opening and closing in the world.  So what you see if you Google Big Star is a bunch of reviews about Pontiac.

And the kind of who woulda thunk it scenarios that come up when you Google your name and see what people looking for you see.

It’s hard to believe that just one year ago Restaurant Intelligence Agency was still in its original development form, something I believed would work but hadn't yet tested. In the last 12 months:

• We built a new platform for our clients' online press kits;
• Nearly completed building a digital dashboard for chefs to streamline their
   communication with media and with each other;
• Branched out into repackaging and distributing our clients' news over
   multiple networks to help them find new customers;
• And took to the drawing board for how we will be navigating the rapidly
   changing landscape of news and marketing in the future.

The first year of anything important — college, job, urban chicken farming — is filled with as many missteps and misfires as successes. I expected that going in, but foresight didn't soften the blow when I stumbled.

That's where friends, family and teammates stepped in. And it wouldn't have been nearly as fun to celebrate the good times without them — and with all of my clients. So here, in no particular order, are the things for which, and people for whom, I am immensely grateful this year:

People willing to take risks. Risk is hard, and some people even admit PR doesn't work and they hate most of it — and yet, they are too afraid to change. I am grateful for all the people who have felt the pain of the broken business model that is traditional PR and been brave enough to take a sip of the RIA Kool-Aid.

Clients who understand how much time and energy we pour into our service. RIA may have started with just a dream, but the reality is coming into clearer focus each day. That reality has cost me every penny I have, a lot of my parents' pennies, and some investments from friends. (P.S. I am currently looking for $50 grand more, if you are interested.) The clients who know and appreciate this, who give us the atta boy when we roll out another product for which we have paid dearly, are precisely why I am doing this.

The many writers who have contributed their services in trade. They're hoping the dream will pay off for them, and I intend to make sure it does. Because I want them to know that believing in something good is a good thing. 

Reporters/bloggers/concierges who use RIA. They my heart sing every day — especially the ones who use Media Registry. The more the media taps into the registry for answers to their questions, the better chefs seem to be getting at responding to requests in a timely fashion, with appropriate, interesting answers. Everyone using our site makes its impact on the industry growth, and I appreciate that.

My team. I deploy a small, but insanely dedicated, team of specialists for help with everything from running the machine that is RIA, transcribing my jumbled firehouse of ideas into workable plans, collecting garbled messages from clients and turning them into news, editing the site to within an inch of its life so we don't look like hacks, and even scheduling my life. You. All. Rock.

My new web designers/coders. (You haven't seen their work yet, it's not this public-facing website that is RIA right now.) Some people design websites, most now add a simple CMS in the back end. Neoteric Design is so much more.  They delve into each new idea, tease out the business value, ask a lot of questions and figure out how to turn it all into workable, scalable code so that it all comes true on the World Wide Web. I have been through two web teams before turning to the real deal, a team of web people who didn't figure out the hard way that my dreams and ideas aren't above their pay grade.

Mom. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: She has the patience of the Buddha, especially when I need to vent. And Laura, I'll throw you in here too, since you are a calm sea.

My dogs, cats and chickens. If I don't recognize them, I fear they may revolt.

There are a lot of thankless jobs in the restaurant business.

As a line cook, I spent countless hours sautéing, searing, grilling and sweating — the aromatics and myself — without even the gratification of hearing customers’ oohs and aahs, and certainly without tips. Hostesses, bar-backs, bussers — they’re pretty much all in the same boat.

I remember the holiday season as a particularly frantic time in the kitchen, when stressed-out families and frazzled groups of shoppers meant more covers than usual, and more complaints. Yet we showed up night after night, because, well, who else was there if not us?

Thanking your employees for their hard work is good practice all year, but it’s especially important during the holidays. Money is always a fine and well-received way to show appreciation to employees, but it’s not the only way. And the dismal economy is no excuse not to show your employees you care.

One of the nicest “thank yous” I ever received was from a client who gave me a Law and Order Crime Scenes book. It was obvious the client had paid attention to me as a human being, because they noticed how obsessed I am with the show.

I couldn’t go on vacation by selling that gift, or pay off my credit card, but it meant a lot to me because it was given in all sincerity — arguably, the most important quality of a good thank-you gift.

So, this year, think back at the year your employees had. Maybe someone broke the tip off their favorite knife or someone is a marathoner and cook and would appreciate a performance chef coat. Maybe one cook really got into jam this year and would appreciate a case of jars.

Gifts don't have to be expensive, in fact, they are even better, even tiny gifts, if they mean you actually paid attention.

What were the best holiday gifts you've ever received?

Every holiday season, my thoughts turn to "It's a Wonderful Life." I love that movie because, no matter how bad it gets, I know I am likely making people's lives better, and I don't even know it

Most of the time, people tend to dwell on all the people who “couldn’t do it without you.” But this Thanksgiving Week, I am thinking it is time to remember all the people you “couldn’t do without.”

If you’re being honest, the latter probably outnumbers the former. Truth is, none of us is in this alone. We all have a whole team of people to thank for our success, even if, as someone tacky once said to me, “Hey, I already pay them! Isn’t that thanks enough?”

Short answer: No, it’s not, you jackalope!

Longer answer: Only short-sighted future failures don’t express their thanks for a job well done. Call it good karma, strong interpersonal communication skills, being a decent human being — or call it recognizing that most of us work for more than just a paycheck. We work to hone a set of skills, to feel valued and vital in this world, to leave our mark. And we all know how good it feels when someone affirms that we did just that.

One of the things I notice in the generally thankless job of publicist is that I tend to work harder for the people who notice my good work. It isn't a concious effort on my part, but I do tend to wake up freshly motivated each day and do an even better job for that person — another job worth noticing.

Funny, isn’t it, how we tend to work so much harder for the people in our lives who take time to say something as small as a thank you?

So don’t just thank your in-house staff this holiday season. Thank your wine salesmen, food vendors, florist, web designer, and, ahem, your PR team. We’ll appreciate the recognition, more than you know. 

You’re probably thinking to yourself, “Ellen, you’re mixing metaphors again.” And I am, sort of. But not really. Here’s the story:

This week, Steve McDonagh, one of The Hearty Boys, an RIA client, experienced what seemed, at the time at least, to be a terrible setback at his one-week-old restaurant. Some jerk broke his front window — a window that would take an entire week to special order.

“Gives a completely different feel to the inside of the resto for new guests and reviewers … so unfair,” he vented to me in an e-mail two days ago.

My advice to Steve: Make lemonade. His choice – and, really, the only choice all of us have when something goes wrong – was to whine and pout, or turn a loss into a win.

That was the extent of my advice. Steve stewed on it for about half a minute and figured out the rest for himself: His genius idea was to ask guests to “sign his cast.” At the end of their meal, he’s giving each table paper and markers to write what they love about the food, service, drinks, whatever. He’s taping these messages up where the window used to be, facing out onto the street, so passers-by can read the poor, broken window’s “cast.”

Frankly, I’m speechless at his creativity. Who the heck knew you could make such fantastic lemonade out of broken glass?

Have you ever thrown a party at your home and spent the entire week beforehand worrying no one would show up? I call it P.H.S., Paranoid Host Syndrome. On the big day, P.H.S. usually is revealed for what it is, irrational fear stoked by the threat of failing at the one thing we should all — especially in this industry — be good at: throwing a party.

Most of the time, people show up, eat your food, “ooh” and “aah” about how good it is, and then proceed to plow through your wine cellar and liquor cabinet until you confront the opposite problem: getting rid of these wackos!

Most of the time.

Throwing a party for the media can be quite different. I recently heard of a media dinner that was cancelled last-minute because too few journalists were registered. This isn’t as rare as one would like to think, and it’s not even something that can be blamed on the restaurant.

There’s timing: Journalists tend to have daily deadlines, which means whatever’s going on with today’s story takes precedence over tomorrow’s. It’s quite possible three times as many reporters would have liked to attend the dinner, but Deadline, that Evil Mistress, would not allow it.

There’s also news value to consider. Maybe your restaurant is just opening; in that case, a media dinner could be a good way to introduce a bunch of reporters at once to your brand-spanking new concept.

But maybe your restaurant is rolling out a new seasonal menu; honestly, whose isn’t? So the question is either what’s so different about yours that warrants special coverage, or — a better question, in my opinion — who else is doing something similar to you so the reporter can establish a trend? (All it takes is three, the magic number!) Answering this question might entice a reporter to come in for a taste, but the fact remains: Most would rather do it solo than with all of their competitors sitting at the next table.

Here’s the thing: No one wants to cancel a party because of lack of interest, especially when the invited guests are the media. That’s why I suggest hosting events that serve a purpose other than attracting press — and then when reporters show up, it’s a bonus.

One of the reasons people continue to discount bloggers is that it seems hard to determine who, among all the folks blogging about food, are worth pitching.

That’s why you should embrace Technorati, which anyone can — and should — use to search for the top bloggers on just about any topic under the sun. The site, which was the first blog search engine, ranks the top 100 blogs each day and indexes thousands of blogs and millions of blog posts by topic to help bring them to the attention of the public in real time. Technorati is a great site — perhaps the site — for avid blog readers, which means it’s a great site for people who want to be featured on well-read blogs.

(And, if you have a blog, you should claim it on Technorati, which will get it listed along with blogs with similar topics.)

There are other ways to find food blogs. For instance, other sites index food blogs only, such as foodblogblog.com, which features nearly 2,000 food blogs. It’s fun to peruse, but lacks the indexing and popularity indicators that Technorati offers.

Recently, I’ve been checking out Chicago’s Gapers Block, which is featuring a weekly interview with a local food blogger in its Drive-Thru section. Again, there’s no sense how the bloggers stack up against each other, but if you’re in Chicago and trying to keep up with the local blog scene, it’s worth the read.

For all ya'll thinking that Twitter is about a bunch of nitwits with too much time on their hands and a need to blast thoughts out into the interwebz, you're wrong. And if you own a restaurant and think that, you're wrongier.

1)  Twitter begins with number of followers. Because guess what, if you have 300 or so followers and you post that you are open, not enough people are gonna care. 

1a) Twitter is now starting to be about lists because really, if someone has a lot of followers but is not on many lists, no one actually listens to him/her.

2)  Twitter is about the customer and the future customer, not about you. Sure, you want to inject some personality into your Twitter stream because people like to engage with people rather than bots. But remember, your conversation should be focused on how much you can engage the customer, not how important you think you are.

3) Twitter is not about blasting out promotions all the livelong day. It is a conversation, it is engagement. Certain people (actual celebrities and really really clever twitterers) can manage a one-way street approach. The rest of us must actually engage with people.

3a) Note to celebrities: Since everyone wants to figure out how to bring you down, you might want to consider engaging anyway, even though you don't need to, because people end up thinking you are a megalomaniac if you don't.  Really clever twitterers (example being @shitmydadsays) are exempted from this as they spend their entire stream making us laugh so hard the coffee comes out our nose.

3) Twitter, for restaurants, is about location-based services. If you don't know what that means, I'll explain it this way: It is about getting butts from the surrounding area into your restaurant to sit down and order, and it even works for high-end places and not just burger joints — if it is managed by someone who knows how to converge technology and marketing, not someone who can think up a cute promotion or pitch a clever story.

3a) Look into Loopt to see a bit of what I am talking about here, but if you don't know what the term "location-based services" is, time to hire a professional.  If you have a professional, ask what their strategy is in this area and if they don't have a long answer, fire their ass.

So don’t freak out on me or anything, but last we are all smack in the middle of what a friend of mine calls HalGiveMas.

For a while now, juicy, glazed turkeys and perfect pumpkin pies are gracing the covers of food magazines, and newspapers have been publishing new ways with stuffing and the Butterball Turkey Hotline number. If you haven’t gotten word out to journalists about your seasonal menus and Thanksgiving Day feasts, there’s no time like, well, yesterday. But lucky for you, you can go direct to your customers with new and old-fashioned techniques alike.

Just the other day I received a flyer from the local Mediterranean restaurant with their takeout menu on one side, and — who would have guessed — an advertisement for their $17.95 Traditional Thanksgiving Feast. Turkey with all the trimmings for $17.95 — and no dishes?! I’ll tell you what, for a split second I actually entertained the notion of chucking it all and eating there on Turkey Day.

Flyers can be effective, but let’s face it: They’re old-school. The newfangled equivalent is Twitter. Why not start today on a daily countdown to the holidays, tweeting once a day about a different menu item, ingredient, or personal holiday tradition? Better yet, make it visual with a Flickr photo countdown. Or ask your Facebook fans to get in on the action by posting their holiday food traditions to your Wall.

Besides being fun — and building good will — getting creative might just attract the attention of the media as they scramble to source those holiday stories.

Recently, one of my clients was the victim of a drive-by writing. One gang of journalists basically drove over to wipe out someone they perceived was part of another gang, and my client got caught in the crossfire.

Aside from being appalled at the publication's laughably lax journalistic integrity, I was shocked by the weakness of the apology when they admitted, privately and not publicly, that they had obviously done wrong.

I, for the first time, after 14 years of listening with half an ear to countless numbers of chefs freak out about factually incorrect stories, realized what it feels like to have someone print an out-and-out lie about someone/something close to you. Let me tell you, it blows.

So, what to do?

The chef's first line of defense is to try to work with the writer/editor in the hopes that they take the high road and print a correction. That isn't always gonna happen. In my case, though the publication admitted they had done wrong, they chose to put it upon my client to comment on the wrongdoing rather than just man up and admit the folly of their ways.

The next line of defense is to find a trusted soul to listen to your story, over and over and over and over ... keep getting it out, keep working through it, keep wondering aloud what the hell kind of megalomaniacal blowhard is actually running the show at the publication. I recommend strong drink during this phase. 

Finally, realize that your winning in the end is more about you and their losing in the end is more about them than either of you will ever know. Your longstanding reputation and theirs, as I have found, speak volumes about the futures you will both have. 

There are plenty, and I mean stockpots-full, of great journalists doing great work who fact-check, verify, use an abundance of caution and otherwise do all the things I learned back in the Ernie Pyle School of Journalism. Stick with it, those journalists will find you.

This final step, really, is about taking the high road, not having the final say, resting in the knowledge that you are doing the best you can in your job, but that some people, well, not so much.

So, head down, get back to work, and really, I know this, you will win.

Lately, I’ve been giving you tips on playing nice with reporters. Media relations is important, don’t get me wrong; but here’s the major problem with basing your PR and marketing plan solely on getting media: You never know when or even if a story about you or your restaurant is going to run.

You might send a brilliant media release, provide follow-up background information, sit through a 90-minute interview and two-hour photo shoot. The writer might tell you the month, week, even the exact day the story will run. All of these things may happen in quick succession, puffing you up with pride, sending you to the moon with anticipation.

And then when the story doesn’t run — when the editor tells the reporter they had to cut eight pages from the magazine this month because ad sales were down, or when the magazine folds, or when you get bumped to the month after your big event — oh, how fast and hard the fall can be.

Media is uncertain, which makes it an unstable foundation for your marketing plan. What’s more solid? For starters, Facebook, Twitter, blogs and other social media tools that allow you to go straight to your audience — no waiting for the story to run, no ad quotas to ruin your moment in the spotlight.

When you use social media, the story runs when you press “Send,” “Publish,” or “Update.” I like those odds a lot better, and I think they make the case for a multifaceted marketing approach that puts media in its proper place.

When you’ve worked with journalists as long as I have, you pick up certain trade “secrets” that make life easier: Don’t call a journalist during deadline unless she’s waiting to hear from you. If you can help a reporter out, even when you don’t have anything to do with the story, you’ve made a valuable friend. When you’re pitching TV, have your visual ready.

Come to think of it, these aren’t real secrets; it’s all common sense, really. But, too often, people approach reporters as if the profession is shrouded in mystery. One false move and the whole place will start to crumble like the final scene in "Raiders of the Lost Ark."

Truth is, a reporter’s job is about as cut-and-dried as it gets: Find out the news and tell people about it. And herein lies their Dirty Little Secret: They need you and your news.

These are the facts, ma’am: Journalists don’t make the news. They report the news. And they can never, ever run out of stories, or they’re out of a job.

Seen in this light, your story idea isn’t groveling, it’s giving! You’re a regular philanthropist!

But here’s the kicker: What you have to offer a reporter better be real news — a new trend or idea, or even a fresh angle on an old yarn — or you’ll just be wasting her time. And it’s no secret that’s no way to make a friend.

Despite my less-than-enthusiastic opinion of media releases, I know a lot of restaurants still use them to get the word out about events, menu changes, staff additions, and more. We do things a little differently at RIA, but I’ll get back to that in a moment.

First, here’s a tip for all the release-lovers out there: If you insist on sending the darned thing, the chef or restaurant owner needs to be available when reporters then come calling. If they’re not, I assure you they’ll be on reporters’ “naughty list” faster than you can say, “I’m sorry, I can’t come to the phone right now …”

See, if there’s merit to media releases, it’s that good ones make reporters’ lives easier, not tougher. They provide all of the basic information — who, what, when, where, perhaps a touch of why and how — and a direct line to the important person in the story who can add a comment and fill in any blanks.

Problem is, most of the time the contact information on a media release is for a middleman or middlewoman, one step too far removed for a busy reporter.

That’s why we do things differently at RIA. We start by sending reporters what they ask for, rather than everything under the sun. And instead of wedging me or an intern in between the writer and chef, I step out of the way and connect the media directly to key sources.

It’s a small difference, but an important one that has landed us squarely on journalists’ “nice list.” Don’t believe me?

“Restaurant Intelligence Agency’s members [are] immediately accessible. In the magazine world, there is no bigger plus.” — Francine Maroukian, Esquire, Travel + Leisure, Marie Claire, Oprah, InStyle and Real Simple

It’s hard to believe this still happens — All The Time — but I have it on good authority from my journalist friends that it does. Restaurants send out press releases about upcoming events before putting info about the events on their web sites.

People, people, people, think about it! What do you think a reporter’s first move is when she gets your release and it piques her interest? If you guessed anything but “goes to my web site to learn more,” you’re grounded.

Of course that’s where she’s going to go, and of course it’s where you want her to go — and of course it’s where you want her to send her readers so they can learn more about and register for the event.

So try this next time you want to promote an event: First, post the event to your web site. Then, post it to your Facebook page to reward your friends with an Early Bird Alert. Then, send out that release and while you’re at it, tweet it up!

And, yes, whatever you send out, link, link, link back to your web site.

How many times have you handed out your business card in the past year? By comparison, how many times have you met someone at an event in a meeting and then, when you got back to your computer or right from your phone, you friended them on Facebook, followed them on Twitter, or linked up with them on LinkedIn?

Making connections via social media is the modern-day equivalent of exchanging business cards — and that means your online friend and follower lists are your new Rolodex. If you’re using social media, you already know the benefits of this new system: It’s searchable, immediate, and a helluva lot more fun than filing in and alphabetizing those little cards.

And you never have to worry about updating your files when they move jobs or change phone numbers. They’ll take care of that for you. Forget someone’s name at a party and dread having to mutter the “faces not names” excuse? Just look up that person’s friends or company online and — voila! — up pops their face, name attached. Heck, if they’re important enough that you should acknowledge their birthday, you don’t even have to know that; Facebook will alert you to the big day!

Here’s the rub: When you meet someone you want to stay in touch with, you still have to take the step of going back to your computer and following or friending them. If you don’t, your online "Rolodex" is going to look a lot like my 1980s version does now: stale and outdated.

If you don’t think it’s fair that reporters always get to be the ones who ask all the questions, this post is for you — because they don’t.

Here’s the thing: A reporter is a human being, and a media interview is a conversation. This isn’t a job interview, so you don’t have to hold your questions until the end. In fact, right up front you can ask the reporter these three questions, which just might affect how and when you answer theirs:

1.    When is your deadline?
2.    What are you focusing on in your story?
3.    When will the story run?

Most of the time, the reporter will answer the first question with one word: “today” or “tomorrow.” Sometimes, though, you’ll get lucky. If the story isn’t due for another couple of days, a week, or even a month, you can ask to schedule the interview for a time that’ s convenient for you and allows you to prepare.

No matter when the story is due, ask right away what it is about. Your answers to the reporter’s questions may change, depending on her angle.

Likewise, knowing when the story will run could affect your answers. For instance, if the question is, “What’s your favorite recipe for bananas?”, your answer might be frozen chocolate-covered bananas in the summer, but bananas Foster if the article is going to run in the winter.

There are many other questions you might ask a reporter: Who else are you interviewing? Have you talked to my friend Joe Smith? Where will this article run? Would you please clarify the question?

But here’s one that seems obvious, but that lots of interviewees overlook: What is your (the reporter’s) full name and contact information?

Sounds silly, but unlike reporters who horde names and numbers like the world is running out of people, interviewees often seem to throw out the Post-It note with the reporter’s name as soon as the interview is over. You’ll realize, however, how important it is to have that little piece of information in your back pocket next time you want to call the reporter up and ask, “Interested in covering my next event?”

The other day I was in a big brainstorm-y meeting with a traditional PR gal.  It was a bit dicey for me, since I really respect this woman, but my goal at the meeting was to get the client to understand what PR strategies they needed to employ today, to make successs for tomorrow.

The client kept on returning to old-school ideas like pitching stories to magazines to get a big fancy spread. I kept on wondering aloud what that was going to do for them if not supported by an aggressive grassroots direct-to-customer campaign.

I trotted out the old story I have about a client who got a full page of their drinks in a glossy monthly and that month, not one of those drinks was sold.

And the old-schooler countered, "Yes, but you can't really track the number of people who ripped out the magazine page and brought it with them to Chicago when they traveled here, the number who saw the piece and didn't order the drink but came in anyway."

No. You can't track it. And despite the fact that she obviously thought that speculative hope was a worthwhile thing, it didn't seem to me like much more than that: hope. 

You'll never really know if anyone did that, will you?  And yet that, in fact, is what you are paying for.

So, what can you track?  What can you do that you can monitor the success of and actually see if it is successful in the long run?

Well, you can count the numbers of followers you have, the number of people who retweet you, the number of people who rush in for an apple cider donut when you tweet that they just came out of the oven.

You can count the number of people who actually view your YouTube video, read your blog; you can even analyze the influence of your Facebook Page using hard numbers. And you can actually see the number of media, influencers and concierges who navigate to your news release on RIA — the number who are actually engaged.

So, the lesson of the day is this: Demand hard numbers from your PR firm.  Make sure that when they tell you about the actual data-driven impact their work has — not just speculations about how many people ripped out a page of a magazine, shoved it somewhere for safe-keeping, and then remembered why when they stumbled upon it at the bottom of their briefcase two months later.

Anyone who has worked in the food industry understands this paradox: It's a compartmentalized world, but a very small one. As fellow restaurant PR vet Traca Savadogo put it in a recent interview, beer people, wine people and cocktail people don't necessarily mix, but ultimately everyone knows everyone -- and talks.

That's why it's important to get out there and attend events taking place in your neck of the culinary world. Accept the invitation to your local farmer's market's opening night. Sit on the committee for a chef event. Visit a new restaurant every so often.

Going out on your night off or rearranging your work schedule to make an event may seem like the last thing you want to do. But it's important. It's part of fostering ongoing public awareness of your brand, and it's about building a solid rep within the industry, too.

They may not be your customers, but with a little effort, you'll make some valuable friends -- friends who will send you customers.

A client just complained that they get too many media opportunities, the emails are overwhelming their inbox. It's too much.

Translation:  I am pissed off at you, my publicist, because the media is too interested in positively promoting my business.

I'll just let you stew on that.