I had some great customers over the years at our restaurant. Over time, the most adventurous allowed me to pick what they would eat or drink on their visits. Among that group was a wonderful duo that came in monthly on Fridays for lunch. The Jensen's were foodies before the term was coined. They liked our 'different menu every day' style and was always up to try new things. They were also different from many of our lunch clientele as they would always order a bottle of Chardonnay with their lunch. Over time I would be allowed to pick the Chardonnay to match our their food on those monthly Friday lunches, as the Jensen's trusted my ability to match our food with wine.
When I moved on from the restaurant business after many years and started to work for Beringer Estates (well know at that time for bigger, oakier styles of Chardonnay along with some of Napa's most famous Cabernets and Merlots), I would sometimes do tastings of our products at prestigious wine shops and restaurants. I was doing one of those events with old friend Randy Gates at his place, Park Avenue Wine and Cheese in Winter Park, FL. (Both Randy and the store are no longer with us, but the stories we have at his store and as friends are legion. I'll write about a few of those stories as time goes on).The lesson I learned that day is one of those enduring tales.
As I started to set up the tasting with Randy, two very familiar folks walked up to me...it was the Jensen's! They were customers of the store and had heard I would be there, so they decided to come in to see me and Randy. We talked for a while, reminisced a bit, and I then poured them a glass of the Chardonnay we had for the tasting. I told them they would really love it since it was the same style of wines I had always picked for them at the restaurant. Back In that day, I was in love with big, oaky, toasty Napa Chardonnays...( my preference now is different, but that's another story...) .
I noticed some reticence when I told them they would love the wine, and indeed, both the Jensen's tasted the wine and indicated that it wasn't really what they liked....and then in a quiet and kind way, Mrs. Jensen pulled me aside. 'Mark, she said, We loved your restaurant and your food. We really miss you and the place. But I need to tell you that in all those years of dining there, you rarely picked a Chardonnay we liked'.
I was floored. 'Why didn't you say something?' I asked. 'We didn't want to hurt your feelings, she said, it wasn't that the wines weren't bad, it's just that we don't like oaky, buttery Chardonnay. We like things more like French Chablis. Plus, you never asked us what we liked.'
I thought about that. Actually, I think about that a lot. I never asked the right question. What did they like? I assumed what I LIKED was what they would also like. I could have not been more wrong...which is why I'm sharing this.
In the food and wine industry we sometimes as professionals 'believe our own press'...we take courses to learn to taste wines and we take courses to learn to cook. We learn about terroir, about flavors, about food and wine combinations. We develop a style. We create menus built around those learned experiences and in most part think that at a certain level , customers will appreciate what we are offering because we have the experience, knowledge and background to be an expert .
And sometimes we have success...but not always. Especially if we have never looked at the most basic question you can ask to a customer. I thought because the Jensen's wanted a Chardonnay that I knew what to choose for them. But I never asked not just 'What do you like' but 'What are some of the favorites Chardonnay's you like'...with that information I could have given them a much better experience...and that is where all that experience and knowledge should have been most useful.
The moral of the story is that instead of me picking a wine so the customer could taste what I think was a perfect pairing, I should have listened more, asked what THEY really wanted and delivered the experience that they better deserved.