Unplugged got a not embarrassing amount of traffic in 2009. I'll say, for someone who is not a writer and committed to writing something lucid five days a week, I sorta feel like I can pat myself on the back a bit.

For one series, though, our traffic spiked through the roof. It was the series on media comps. 

Seems a lot of media were shocked and appalled that I would be so bold as to write about the dirty little semi-secret and others were shocked and appalled that it occurred.

I was reminded of this series just now because a client forwarded an email from a writer who, balls out, asked for a free meal at a primo weekend reservation time and the client wanted some advice.

I got a lot of private comments about those blog posts. Mostly from chefs who appreciated that I pulled back the veil and gave them some advice. A lot of those chefs weren't clients and have no PR firm so they have nowhere to turn.

And I got into a lot of discussions with journalists on both sides of the fence.

Mostly, I got into a discussion with (no typo) my BFF, an ex-journalist herself of the old-school variety, about the hypocrisy of it all. I have spent too much time sitting in the seat where I sit, watching great stories get passed over because the chef wasn't popular -- the excuse being that they been written about two years prior. 

Mostly my side of the discussion with her was about my frustration. Which I keep on writing about here and deleting.

Maybe I should wait and revisit this topic next year.

In the meantime, chefs, it is a dicey situation, dealing with that media person who asks for the comp. My advice, though, is to set up some sort of meal that won't bite into your profits too much and direct them to a time that won't take seats away from paying customers.

Comps are a reality of business, you happily give them to the visiting chef dignitary who does nothing for you but makes you feel better by simply eating your food. If someone else can get the word out about what you are doing and possibly put more butts in seats, it will likely be a wise investment.

I picked up a story a few weeks back on the Small Business Trends website about Public Relations Trends for 2010.

Of course, any article that talks about trends in Public Relations in the year 2010 has to talk about social media.  Mostly because anything that has anything to do with communication online has to do with social media. And particularly with publicists, whose job it is to be connectors, social media is a godsend -- after all, social media is, at its heart, a way for people to connect with one another and with information.

There were a few subheads in the story that struck me that I thought would be helpful for my cheffie readers.

Social media returns the P in PR to "people" -- going well beyond "promotion."
God, I remember back in the day having to develop events and promotions for restaurants in order to develop something the media would want to talk about. I mean, sure, as a publicist, I thought up scads of stories about my clients that I would hope and pray someone would write. I was actually pretty good at developing story ideas, thankfully, but even someone who was good at it couldn't base an entire PR strategy on it. 

Journalists would inevitably get sick of reading about and hearing about your client, or all the great stories would get told, and we would go back to "Tomato Time at Tip Top Grill" or something like that. It didn't matter what a pain in the ass it was for everyone to get on board with the promotion -- the staff training, developing the menu, writing the release, begging the journalist to write about it -- it was really the only option to keep the restaurant's name out there between the big stories.

Today, publicists can go back to what they do best -- developing and maintaining quality relationships. And social media makes that happen. The great publicists have embraced social media as a savior of their sanity and are making it work for their clients to boot.

Great PR professionals become influencers in their own right.
I remember getting a misfired email from an important journalist in which the journalist called me a flack. It was an odd slap in the face, especially as he was forwarding my original email to a colleague to highlight a good idea I had that they should pursue. So, even when I had a good idea, I was a flack.

It was, actually, a cultural norm rather than anything personal. Journalists are trained to be skeptical, it is actually part of their job. Why would they not be skeptical of someone paid to puff up their client?

That said, the Internet has given great publicists the opportunity to build up their own communities of friends and followers. They have become influencers in their own right, with opinions and insights that are respected and appreciated. 

As social media continues to define our world, the number of publicists who embrace and master this new opportunity will surely grow.

The myth that social media makes PR obsolete will be crushed.
I am not even too sure what is the difference between a social media professional and a public relations professional any more. They seem rather intertwined and the hairsplitting as the two sides duke it out is unproductive.

As long as someone smart is out there thinking through the messaging and positioning and executing in a reasoned, effective way, I personally don't care if it turns out to be my dog. 

Transparency in business communications will weed the great PR executives from the bad.
For real, this is gonna happen. It is happening already. And Thank God. 

So how can you, the chef, determine if your PR firm is one of the good ones or one of the bad? I'd say keep an eye out for who you feel communicates in a compelling way, who has an audience of their own and who is doing the PR of those you admire.

Businesses will see more value than ever from PR and marketing.
The focus of PR is shifting from media hits to actual business value, which is a good thing. After all, no one can even measure, effectively, what media hits do for a restaurant these days. There's speculation, for sure, and a lot of people who overlay a lot of assumptions on their media hits.

Did I ever tell you about the restaurant who claimed a review really bumped their business until I encouraged them to look at their comps from the months and years prior and they saw their numbers had decreased?

But business value is, in fact, easily measured and a publicist today should be able to deliver specific, understandable reports on mentions, traffic to your website, numbers of friends and followers that join a social media campaign, and actual media interest by way of online activity (actual click-thrus on press information and/or media traffic on web sites that contain your press information). 

It all bodes well for the restaurant that is more interested in their bottom line than the ease of sticking with what worked in the past, the fear of working with the unknown, the recognition of working with any given firm, or maybe the desire to hang out with people to whom you've grown accustomed. 

The other night, I was at a media dinner for 50 writers. It was fascinating, sitting waiting for them all to file in, considering I was in a Twitter conversation with a few people who feel food writers who take comps should be outed, flogged and otherwise meant to wear a dunce cap in the corner.

Despite whatever random diners who read this blog may think, anyone in the business of chefdom, PRdom or mediadom either knows all about these media dinners or needs to grab Toto and take a good look around. This ain't Kansas (though I have it on good authority that it happens there, too).

The Media Dinner, like the FAM trip, is a semi-working system. Back in the day, it actually would make a good difference to hold media dinners. Word got out slow, so getting everyone in to see what was going on was a good way to make sure the word-getting-outness speeded up a bit.

Today, everyone is rushing around so frantically to Get. The. Story. that I pretty much think if the word doesn't get out on its own, well, it is because the restaurant is boring or otherwise "off" and in general needs to be fixed.

Another thing has happened as well. Lots of publications that used to be kinda lax on their taking comps policy have become crazily militant — and the journalists still working at the pubs are right to fear for their life before accepting a unpaidfor roll in the bread basket.

So, what happened was, media dinners became these odd affairs where freelance writers who didn't really write all that much ended up coming to the dinners and nothing would really come of it, after all.

So, it had been a while since I had been to one of these things and seriously, I was super curious to find out the current state of affairs.

The restaurants that held the dinners, in The Elysian, did everything right.  They actually redefined everything right, I happened to notice, when they handed me a cloth cocktail napkin.

In fact, they did such a great gosh darn job that I wanted to write about it. In fact, they did such a great gosh darn job that all I could think was: Why the hell has it become so incredibly difficult for so many others in the hospitality business to be hospitable?

What I found so brilliant about the dinner is that they understood that inviting in bloggers with niche followings, the ability to write large posts, and the freedom to write what they want can be a most effective tool in communicating a concept.

At The Elysian, to my mind, the concept is to built the most beautiful place on earth and then be the most humble, gracious people alive. Accept everyone into your well-appointed world and make them feel they belong there.

In an economy where it seems even rich people are still alittle afraid of being poor, The Elysian made everyone feel safe, welcome and well-tended — rich or poor, well-dressed or, in my case, maybe coulda cleaned up a bit more. 

So, as a hotel like that opens, how, really, can one communiate that kind of message? I live in the world of fine dining and let me tell you, everyone and their brother tells me their fine dining restaurant is going to be welcoming to all. They are, really mostly, not.

Because the minute I order a filet of Dover sole for lunch and the server looks back up at cheap ol' me and says, "and what would you like for your appetizer?" Your restaurant is no longer welcoming.

How can you communicate that message without bringing people in to tell the story for you?  People who can tell the story without the burden of editorial focus and writing to an audience?  Brilliant.

They didn't ask anyone to write anything.  They didn't let on any expectation.  They didn't try and control the message by telling anyone what to write. 

What they did was have fun themselves: The chef trotting out his pizzas himself, a smile as big as the Canada sky stretched across his face. Another chef walking through the room with a pan full of sausages, smiling and posing for pictures because he clearly knew he held a big pile of love in that pan.  Valets who refused tips. Bartenders who eagerly offered fun drinks and explained their contents with a bit of a golly gee excitement instead of a droll eye-rolling "everyone knows what I mean when I say it is a riff on a Dark 'n Stormy."

And that, my friends, is the media dinner done right.  And no, you don't have to have more money than God to pull it off because these people weren't peddling the grand appointments, they were peddling hospitality.

Look, it even worked it's magic on me!

Technically speaking, a publicist’s job ends and the restaurant’s job begins the second a reviewer walks through your doors. But, c’mon, you know me better than that: I wouldn’t leave you hangin’.

So what should you do if you spot a surprise food blogger/writer who you know at one of your tables?

First, be authentic. They came in to try your food and experience your restaurant as other diners do. Treat them as you would — or should — any other customer: like a king or queen. Cook the hell out of some food, provide impeccable service, and most importantly, do what you do best.

Here’s another definite “do”: Say hello. Remember, you’re being authentic here, which implies a certain upfront honesty. It would just be plain weird to pretend you don’t know who they are if you have met them before.

I think it’s okay to ask them if they’re working on a story; after all, that’s what they do for a living. One way to do this tactfully and professionally is to ask for a heads up if a story is coming, so you can be prepared for the rush (a reality of coverage). Give them your direct contact info so they can follow up with you. If you want to show them you truly understand their profession, let them know they can call you for references or if they need comments on stories that aren’t explicitly about you or your restaurant.

Here’s a “don’t”: Don’t send out complimentary dishes without asking. I know it’s a natural reaction to want to end a writer’s meal on the Most. Amazing. Dessert. Extravaganza. Ever. But some reporters work for outlets with strict policies about accepting anything worth more than a plastic keychain, and they definitely don’t want to risk their jobs by accepting a free crème brulee.

Others are freelancers who have their own ethical guidelines about accepting free food, and no company expense accounts to boot, so now they feel compelled to pay for a bunch of food they didn’t order. Suddenly, you have become The Jerk (Who Ate into Their Family’s Budget). So ask first. If they take a pass, graciously accept their terms.

If they do accept comp dishes, please for the love of all things Holy, don't go all freaky deaky and serve anything that is not on the menu.  Really, it happens all the time and it is mind-bloggeling and mind-bogglingly stupid. They are there to experience your restaurant, not the restaurant you really want or think you should have.  So, unless you are working on something that is going on the menu in a few days or something, don't freaking serve it.

Don’t panic if you don't notice a writer until mid-meal. Perhaps she’s a big-timer who ordered a ton of food and had been enjoying herself anonymously until you spotted her. On the flip side, perhaps her waiter has been a hot mess all night. You can’t change what happened before you noticed her, but you can do the “do’s” for the rest of the meal – saying hello, asking if she can be your guest for the evening, accepting her terms, being authentic.

Fact is, beyond employing “secret shoppers” — which isn’t a bad idea, by the way — there’s not much a restaurant can do to prepare for a reviewer, beyond what you do every day to prepare for customers. The best approach is to stay true to what you know you do better than anyone out there, and avoid trying to be something you’re not.

There's a ton of fussing over on Twitter on this whole comping thing.  But let's face it chef, you and I both know that it is rampant.  My goal here is to help you navigate the waters — because if the writers can't themselves figure it out for once and for certain, well, how can you?

So, onward.  Develop a solid policy for yourself.

If you don’t develop a policy for how you will comp the media under various scenarios, you’re going to get into trouble fast. For one, you’ll have to fumble around to come up with a plan every time a reporter calls or shows up at your restaurant out of the blue. Who needs that stress?

So my first rule of thumb for restaurants is that they develop a comping policy to guide their decisions going forward. I suggest creating three categories — large, medium and small — that you can tweak as needed when various situations arise. These are my recommendations; ultimately, though, it’s up to each restaurant to decide how to handle various scenarios.

First things first: The ask. Some just haul off and ask up front. Others don't. If they haven't, always ask first.  Don't assume, don't argue about the check.  Just say, "If it would be alright with you, I would love for you to be our guest for the evening." Most writers can figure out that statement and then let you know their opinions on the matter.

Next, the policy:

Large: This is for writers with major influence — your city’s most prominent food writer, a national magazine’s food editor. If you’re comping someone who has great power to elevate you, go big or go home! Treat them the way you would if your mother dropped by. (Hmmm, I wonder if that’s the origin of the word “motherload.”)

Medium: For a writer who has a decent following and hasn’t dropped into your restaurant before, trot out a nice tasting menu. You want them to experience the breadth of your talent and understand what makes your restaurant unique.

Small: First, let me point out that everyone starts somewhere. So remember that those writers who today are working for small-potatoes blogs or still building their online audience may be tomorrow’s big-time writers. Don’t blow them off. I recommend for these folks (or for longtime writers who just want to check out your seasonal fare or update a listing), a smaller tasting that allows them to sample your current menu without breaking your bank.

I also recommend serving two glasses of wine to everyone, large, medium or small. Wine is important — it enhances both flavors and experiences. Generally, several bottles already have been opened for tastings or glasses that day, so if you don’t want to open a brand-new bottle, find appropriate wine from among those that already have been uncorked. I mean, what’s your other option? Iced tea?

Stinginess as lasting impression? Hospitality industry, gang — which doesn't mean you have to be ridiculous. Just provide a warm "glow."

I’d love to hear if others have developed their own policies for comps, and how that little bit of preparation has saved you headaches in the long run. 

Since the FTC revised its “Guidelines Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising,” people seem to have their underthings in a bunch over writers who accept discounted and free meals at the restaurants they cover. The guides require writers to disclose any “material connections” they have to the entities they’re covering, including personal relationships, gifts, and comps.

The thing is, covering restaurants is expensive — but also impossible if a writer doesn’t have the means to eat the food. The vast majority of food writers are freelancers who don’t make a ton of money; nor do they have expense accounts. Even staffers or stringers for many media outlets don't have much of a budget, especially these days.

How can a person fairly write about a restaurant if he or she can’t afford to sample a variety — or even any, at high-end spots — of the dishes on the menu? And how can a writer cover her beat — i.e., eat out multiple times a week, if not daily — without going broke?

To my mind, giving this person the information he or she needs to write the story isn’t the same as “buying them off.” Here’s another way to think about it: Reporters who cover issues — such as transportation or real estate — don’t have to pay to get the information they need to write the story. They don’t have to leave a tip; people leave tips for them!

Here’s the reality: The ethics on this are still fuzzy. But really, people, sometimes food writers need to accept comps. And, rightly or wrongly (and despite the FTC’s guidelines), some members of the media — from both journalist and blogger camps — will not declare their comps. Only the restaurants know the truth about who pays and who doesn’t, and most are keeping that information quiet because they don’t really care how they get publicity, as long as they can keep their doors open.

Yes, I agree that seems to leave customers who are searching for reliable information about restaurants to tread somewhat murky waters. Who can they trust? But I also believe most regular diners are willing to give a restaurant a try regardless of what one reviewer had to say. And they will formulate their own opinions, independently of Yelp!, the local newspaper critic, or bloggers.

So, now that we’ve acknowledged this fuzzy ethical reality, the rest of the week I’m going to focus on giving restaurants what they need: tips on how to handle comps for the media. I’ve got answers to your dilemmas, from those “Oh, shit, there’s a critic at Table 7!” moments, to a question I get all the time: “Do I have to trot out a giant spread for anyone with a blog?”

I invite all of my readers to pipe up with your own two cents, tips and creative approaches to comps. There’s arguably no better freebie than good advice from folks who’ve been around the block a few times.