As a writer, using language clearly is a central part of my craft.
Despite the occasional temptation to show off using the kind of vocabulary known only to Oxford literature professors, when it comes down to it, simple is simply better.
When you sit at your keyboard writing, you should always try to put yourself in the place of the reader.
Those immersing themselves in great literature may accept – and even expect - long words and complicated syntax, but one place where such complexity has no place is when we go out to eat.
And yet according to a new survey from booking platform Resy, 41 per cent of us have had to resort to Google to find out the meaning of specific words on restaurant menus.
Now, as we have become more adventurous in our eating habits, new, exotic ingredients have found their way onto our plates. For those new to such cuisines, this can cause problems when it comes to ordering.
I once found myself at a restaurant in Norwich which specialised in an Asian cuisine with which I was unfamiliar. The menu was particularly unhelpful, assuming that everyone would know what each term meant.
I asked the server for help, but they treated me like an idiot and went no further than repeating the words on the menu back to me.
Unsurprisingly, I had a very disappointing meal. I’m sure they could have provided me with delicious food which I would have enjoyed. I will never know; the establishment has not enjoyed my custom again.
But it is not just in the realm of food from other cultures where deciphering the menu can be troublesome. In recent years, a whole new language seems to have been created with the intention of making chefs look clever, and their customers ignorant.
Top of the list of such terms, according to another survey, this time from American Express, is ‘smacked’. Even though I am a food writer, I’ll admit that I had to Google this one myself (apparently it is a technique used with herbs, involving crushing them to release the flavour).
Another menu favourite which confuses people is ‘blackened’, which is nothing to do with overcooking, but refers to the use of a spice blend applied to meat or fish, which is then cooked at a high temperature, creating a dark crust.
This is different to ‘burnt’, another word which diners were confused by. No-one deliberately burns their food, do they? Well, in restaurant-land, ‘controlled charring’ is apparently a good thing.
While being able to surreptitiously Google words under the table has made decoding menus easier, it shouldn’t be necessary. The menu should draw us in, sell the food to us, make our mouths water, encourage us to order the dish – not confuse us, and make us feel small.
According to the survey, 20 per cent of us won’t ask the server to explain something we don’t understand. So one in five of us will simply discount the dish which the chef has worked so hard to create. That rather suggests the menu is not doing its job.
When I read a menu, I want to get a good impression of what I will eat if I choose a particular dish. Unfamiliar words and culinary jargon doesn’t help, but neither does the kind of minimalist nonsense which is sadly also gaining traction at the more trendy eateries.
I recently ate at an award-winning restaurant in Norfolk, and it was a stunning meal. But the menu was full of descriptions such as ‘venison, parsnip, chestnut’, which gave only the smallest of insights into what would be on my plate.
Was it haunch of venison, or shoulder, or loin? Was it roasted, pan-fried, or slow-cooked? Did it have a sauce, and if so, what was in it? None of these perfectly reasonable questions were addressed on the menu.
Enough with menu pretentiousness. Give us descriptions of dishes which accurately and reasonably fully describe the food you for which are asking us to pay top dollar. And by all means introduce us to new and exotic ingredients, but don’t assume we all know what they are.
Above all, we shouldn’t have to bring a thesaurus with us when we eat out, and many of us prefer to switch our phones off in restaurants. Tempt us with your menus, don’t confuse us.
Don’t try and impress us with your words – let the food do that.
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