Using Menu Psychology to Entice Diners

Interesting article from today's NY Times - http://www.nytimes.com/2009/12/23/dinin ... ref=dining

Much of what this author says rings intuitively accurate, though some made me think without really coming to a conclusion, as with "he strongly recommends .95, which he said “is a friendlier price,” whereas .99 is “cornier.” On a related note, I appreciate the round number pricing at Big Star, which makes quick-math possible even after a few pops.

A connection I had not made about Alinea menu, according to Achatz: He said he wanted the menu to resemble sheet music, so it has a line of bubbles snaking through the copy. The bigger the bubble, the more bites it takes to consume that dish.

David Hammond wrote:A connection I had not made about Alinea menu, according to Achatz: He said he wanted the menu to resemble sheet music, so it has a line of bubbles snaking through the copy. The bigger the bubble, the more bites it takes to consume that dish.

I think (although I might be misremembering) that the position of the bubble left-right also indicates how savory or sweet the dish is.

Dave148 wrote:Interesting article from today's NY Times - http://www.nytimes.com/2009/12/23/dinin ... ref=dining

It's funny. I didn't get to this article until late yesterday, but I had been thinking about the psychology of product names and how companies entice people to buy food-related products while running errands earlier in the day. I stopped at Macy's on State Street to buy Orgasm nail polish for my sister*, a product in the now legendary line by Nars Cosmetics that started with Orgasm blush--one of the best-selling cosmetic products of all time.** Some of what Rob Walker, of the New York Times Magazine's "Consumed" column, writes about Orgasm and the coding of colors applies to the names given to restaurant dishes, especially if one thinks about "logic-defying" names in relation to modern food.

I was hoping that the menu psychology article would address the issue of menus displayed in the windows or otherwise right outside of restaurants to entice diners. I often stop on the sidewalk to read menus, even if I have no plans to eat, and I always find the experience somewhat strange. It's a document that I usually read indoors, flat on a table, with a napkin on my lap--it always seems odd to be reading it in exactly the same format--scale, typeface, etc.--outdoors as signage of sorts. I also wonder about the double decision-making process of reading a menu in the window of a restaurant, deciding that one will eat at that establishment at that moment, then receiving the menu at the table once one is seated and choosing specifically what to order. I wish the article got to that.

After purchasing the Orgasm nail polish at Macy's, I went downstairs in search of a battery-powered pepper mill. I go department-store shopping twice a year at most, so I am fairly (i.e. very) easily amused by store displays. One of the most bizarre ones I saw yesterday was this one in Macy's Le Creuset section:



Is it just me, or is this display somewhat absurd? How or why would giant cans of fruit cocktail entice me to buy a French oven (or really any kind of cookware)? The display made me think of the work of Simon Doonan, window dresser-turned-Creative Director of Barneys [department stores]. His window displays are always irreverent and often ironic. Somehow, I don't think any irony was intended at Macy's...

*We only do silly, themed stocking stuffer-type gifts in my family; I bought the nail polish to accompany the Herpes stuffed microbe I bought as a toy for my sister's dog.
**Super Orgasm and Deep Throat are also Nars colors but haven't sold anywhere near as well as Orgasm.

Great thought and effort go into creating restaurant menus – and there are some very powerful psychological tricks employed to make you choose.

http://www.bbc.com/future/story/2017112 ... rant-menus

Been studying this for decades. We know where you look @ first and how to entice w/menu speak. @ least some of us do, seems to be a lost art w/the minimal descriptions these days.