The restaurant only sells chicken.
Every single item on the menu is a chicken dish, and at first when I heard I was going to eat there, I was a little curious and excited. I imagined chicken dishes from around the world, from Africa, South America and India and wherever else they serve chicken, which is everywhere.
Nope. They sell one kind of chicken, and you could make it at home.
When I was checking the place out, the owner must have seen me thinking, because he asked me if everything was ok. I didn’t know what to say, so I opted for the truth.
I told him I didn’t get it.
I told him what I had anticipated, given what I knew about the place, which was that it specialized in chicken. When he looked a little interested in that, I pointed out that if his menu was always changing as his recipes moved around the world, I’d have to keep going back to try new dishes.
He looked a little more interested. I told him that if he wanted to, the art on the walls, the music playing in the restaurant and what the waiters wear could be harmonized to reflect the country or countries featured on the menu.
He sells chicken dinners.
Honestly, he should shift in my direction. He could create something fun, get people telling a story and stage an experience that justifies people paying a premium.
A little imagination goes a long way.
You want fries or slaw with that?