Unreasonable Hospitality: The Remarkable Power of Giving People More Than They Expect

“I had already happily chosen a life in restaurants, but that night, I learned how important, how noble, working in service can be. During a terribly dark time, Daniel and his staff offered my dad and me a ray of light in the form of a meal neither one of us will ever forget. Our suffering didn’t disappear by any means, but for a few hours, we were afforded real respite from it. That dinner provided an oasis of comfort and restoration, an island of delight and care in the sea of our grief.”

Guidara employs the metaphors of “ray of light,” an “oasis of comfort and restoration,” and an “island of delight and care in the sea of our grief” to articulate the profound impact a dining experience can have during times of personal turmoil. These metaphors elevate the act of dining to a form of emotional healing and sanctuary, encapsulating Guidara’s deep-seated belief in the power and nobility of service. Through this imagery, he conveys that hospitality, at its best, provides not just sustenance or leisure, but a meaningful escape, offering solace and momentarily lifting the weight of sorrow.

“Intention means every decision, from the most obviously significant to the seemingly mundane, matters. To do something with intentionality means to do it thoughtfully, with clear purpose and an eye on the desired result.”

These assertions relate to the book’s theme of The Importance of Detail. As Guidara shows throughout the book, he believes that paying attention to even the smallest nuances of atmosphere and service can elevate the dining experience.

“Midway through their meal, they remember they’ve left a bottle of champagne in the freezer. They call the sommelier over to ask if it’s likely to explode before they get home (almost certainly yes). The sommelier saves the day by taking their keys and rescuing the bottle, so the couple can relax and finish their celebratory meal. When they arrive home, they find the champagne safely tucked into their fridge, along with a tin of caviar, a box of chocolates, and an anniversary card from the restaurant.”

In recounting this anecdote from Danny Meyer’s book, Will Guidara highlights a profound example of enlightened hospitality that resonates deeply with his own philosophy of “unreasonable hospitality.” By narrating the sommelier’s actions to save a couple’s champagne from exploding in their freezer, Guidara emphasizes the essence of going above and beyond the expected duties of restaurant staff to ensure guests’ peace of mind and happiness. This story, especially with the thoughtful addition of caviar, chocolates, and an anniversary card, serves as an evocative example of Guidara’s belief in creating memorable experiences through acts of extraordinary service, demonstrating how such gestures of care and attention can elevate the dining experience to an act of personal connection and joy.

“It’s impossible to overestimate how important it was that I was doing both jobs simultaneously. Food and beverage costs average thirty cents out of every dollar a restaurant makes, and most of what lands in a walk-in won’t last more than a few days. Oysters weren’t theoretical to me as a luxury line item or a cell in a spreadsheet—they were the valuable, ugly little rocks I’d counted by hand earlier in the day, packed in ice, and nestled into their fish tub.”

Guidara underscores the invaluable experience gained from handling both managerial and hands-on operational roles within the restaurant, marrying the conceptual and the tangible aspects of restaurant management. By detailing his direct involvement with inventory, such as counting oysters by hand, Guidara illustrates a grounded understanding of the value and perishability of ingredients, transcending their abstract representation as mere numbers on a spreadsheet. This hands-on approach reflects Guidara’s comprehensive grasp of the operational complexities of a restaurant and highlights his philosophy of bridging the gap between the financial aspects of running a restaurant and the physical reality of its day-to-day operations.

“Our back-office efficiency meant that guy didn’t have to worry about the numbers and could go back to being a chef. We weren’t stealing his creativity; we were returning him to it.”

Guidara articulates the essence of the “corporate-smart” approach that he witnessed while working at Restaurant Associates. At its best, corporate efficiency serves to unburden creative professionals, in this case, chefs, from the distractions of financial management, thereby enabling them to refocus on their culinary artistry. By stating, “We weren’t stealing his creativity; we were returning him to it,” Guidara encapsulates the creative freedom that structured, efficiency-driven practices typical of corporate management can facilitate within the realm of culinary arts. This perspective challenges the notion that corporate systemization inherently constrains creativity, instead proposing that when implemented thoughtfully, such frameworks can act as enablers of artistic expression, underscoring a key tenet of Guidara’s philosophy that combines meticulous management with the pursuit of exceptional hospitality experiences.

“Every decision I made seemed to expose the natural tensions between improving the quality of the experience the guests were having and doing what was best for the business. Restaurant-smart meant leading with trust—including allowing the people who worked for me to do what they felt was best for the guests. Corporate-smart meant running a tight ship. Which was right?”

Guidara articulates the inherent Creative Tension of Opposites he navigated in his career, specifically the dichotomy between enhancing guest experience and adhering to prudent business practices. The rhetorical question, “Which was right?” engages readers in the dilemma faced by Guidara, presenting the contrast between the “restaurant-smart” approach of prioritizing guest satisfaction through trust and empowerment of staff, and the “corporate-smart” approach of emphasizing operational efficiency and control. This tension underscores a central theme in the book—the balancing act between maintaining an exceptional level of hospitality that exceeds guest expectations and ensuring the financial viability and operational integrity of the business.

“How amazing could a plastic spoon possibly be? You’re going to have to trust me on this: they were paddle-shaped, extraordinarily well designed, and completely unique. They were also preposterously, heartbreakingly expensive. But I had to have them; the Sculpture Garden deserved them. Nothing else would do.”

Here, Guidara’s informally personable tone invites a sense of intimacy and shared understanding. His rhetorical question and subsequent assurance, “You’re going to have to trust me on this,” draws the reader into the minutiae of his decision-making process. This passage emphasizes the theme of The Importance of Detail by showcasing how even the smallest elements, like utensils, are pivotal in crafting an unparalleled dining experience. This narrative choice, coupled with the description of the spoons as “preposterously, heartbreakingly expensive,” humorously highlights Guidara's self-awareness that his commitment to perfection and the lengths to which he will go to ensure every aspect of the service complements the ethos of the venue can be overdramatic.

“[A]s soon as I opened it, those plates slid to the ground and shattered into a million pieces. The crash was deafening, and the bustling restaurant fell silent for a second or two. A few people clapped. The noise, the waste, the mess, the mistake—I was horrified. I certainly didn’t need anyone else to be mad at me. Nevertheless, the kitchen doors flew open, and the chef de cuisine charged out of the kitchen, already screaming.”

In this vivid recounting of a mishap from Guidara’s early days as a busboy, the hyperbolic imagery of plates shattering “into a million pieces” and the resultant “deafening” crash that silences the bustling restaurant, encapsulates the high-pressure environment of fine dining. This moment of public failure, accentuated by the stark silence followed by ironic applause, exposes the vulnerability and intense scrutiny under which restaurant staff operate, highlighting the sometimes unforgiving nature of the hospitality industry. The chef de cuisine's immediate, furious reaction intensifies the scene’s tension and illustrates the often harsh realities of restaurant culture. Guidara later uses this anecdote as an opportunity to explain that he felt the chef didn’t respect him or the rest of the dining staff, and that this was indicative of a larger trend in the industry.

“My experience was not unique: in that world, there seemed to be an inherent divide between the people who cooked the food and those who served it. We were all part of the same team, but it usually didn’t feel that way. One side or the other always seemed to be winning the tug-of-war—and in fine dining, the victor was usually the chef.”

Guidara addresses the pervasive issue of division within the restaurant industry, exemplifying why he emphasized Connection, Communication, and Collaboration between kitchen and service staff in his own restaurants. By likening the dynamic to a “tug-of-war,” Guidara portrays with immediacy the competitive relationship that traditionally characterizes interactions between those who cook the food and those who serve it. He implicitly critiques the hierarchical structure that often prioritizes the chef’s role over that of service staff, suggesting that a more integrated and egalitarian approach to teamwork in fine dining enhances both employee relations and the dining experience.

“Daniel and I had a vision for a fine-dining restaurant where we could have a good time without feeling like some grown-up was going to rap our knuckles for not sitting up straight. But we wanted to do it without sacrificing any of the exceptional amenities and glorious traditions of service that make a fine-dining meal so memorable and special. We wanted to marry the care and attention, not to mention the excellence and luxury, of classic four-star dining with the surprise and delight—the fun—of a more casual experience.”

Guidara employs imagery to convey the balance he and Daniel Humm sought to achieve in their vision for Eleven Madison Park, encapsulating the theme of The Creative Tension of Opposites. The jokey fear of a “grown-up” reprimand for not adhering to strict, traditional fine dining etiquette contrasts sharply with their desire to infuse the dining experience with elements of “surprise and delight—the fun—of a more casual experience.” This juxtaposition highlights the challenge of blending the meticulous luxury of four-star dining with the relaxed, joyful atmosphere of casual dining, reflecting the innovative spirit driving their approach.

“And make those corrections in private. I can still feel the flush of shame and horror that crept up from my collar when I was screamed at in the dining room by the chef de cuisine at Spago; I’ll remember it for the rest of my life. And while it was a terrible experience, it was also a privileged peek at a mistake I never wanted to make.”

Guidara utilizes an emotion-rich personal anecdote to impart crucial advice on the delivery of feedback and criticism. The physical sensation of “shame and horror” creeping up from his collar captures the intense physiological impact of receiving public criticism, grounding Guidara’s guidance in a memorable and psychologically intimate story that serves as a cautionary tale against the demoralizing effects of public reprimand. Illustrating the growth mindset he indirectly promotes throughout the book, Guidara also sees the moment as transformative, offering a “privileged peek” at an error he vows never to replicate, thereby highlighting the profound influence of such experiences in shaping one’s leadership and interpersonal approaches.

“I wanted those notes to be as thoughtful, as beautifully presented, as the lavender honey-glazed dry-aged duck we brought to our guests. In this case, the people on staff were the recipients of my hospitality, and I wasn’t going to stand up and talk about excellence without modeling it myself.”

Guidara employs a simile, comparing the crafting of staff notes to the preparation of a “lavender honey-glazed dry-aged duck,” to underscore the importance of consistency in excellence, both in the kitchen and in leadership communication. This comparison elevates the act of internal communication to an art form akin to culinary creation, reinforcing Guidara’s philosophy that the principles of hospitality extend beyond guests to include staff as well. By insisting that the staff were deserving recipients of the same level of care and attention as the diners, Guidara illustrates his commitment to leading by example, demonstrating that the pursuit of excellence is all-encompassing, affecting every aspect of the restaurant’s operation and culture.

“Most of the time, excellent training makes you better at what you do. Athletes practice all day every day so their muscle memory will take over as soon as the ball or the racket is in their hands. By definition, impeccable training enables you to perform your tasks without needing to think about why you’re doing what you’re doing—which is fantastic if your job is to have an astronomical free-throw percentage. But muscle memory isn’t always a good thing; training like that can also be like putting on a pair of blinders.”

Guidara draws a comparison between restaurant staff and athletes to articulate the perspective he adopts towards training within the context of fine dining. By highlighting how “excellent training” and “muscle memory” enhance an athlete's performance, allowing instinctual action “as soon as the ball or the racket is in their hands,” Guidara acknowledges the value of automatic proficiency in executing tasks to a high standard. However, he contrasts this advantage with its potential downside, suggesting that such ingrained habits can act as “blinders,” limiting creativity and adaptability—crucial elements in the hospitality industry. This comparison underscores Guidara’s belief in the importance of breaking from traditional practices when they stifle innovation, advocating for a balance between the efficiency of well-honed skills and the flexibility to question and adapt to enhance the dining experience.

“Tastes change. My great-grandmother wouldn’t have recognized almost anything on the walls at MoMA as art; two generations later, I loved it. In the same vein, my friends and I didn’t want to eat at the kind of place where the waiter stood, statue-still, next to our table with his hands clasped behind his back (and yes, I’m using that ‘he’ deliberately).”

Guidara employs an analogy to illustrate the evolving nature of taste, both in the realm of art and dining. By comparing his great-grandmother’s likely reaction to modern art at MoMA with his own appreciation, Guidara highlights the subjective and temporal nature of aesthetic and cultural values, suggesting that what is considered exceptional or avant-garde in one era may be incomprehensible in another. The image of a waiter, “statue-still” and formally positioned, exemplifies the outdated service models that no longer resonate with contemporary diners seeking a more relaxed and engaging experience. Through these comparisons, Guidara underscores the necessity of adaptation and innovation in the hospitality industry to meet the changing preferences and expectations of its patrons.

“Putting both hospitality and excellence on our list was a way of recognizing that success was going to come from approaching the problem of hospitality vs. excellence in the most difficult way possible: in order to succeed, we needed to be good at both. This wasn’t an either/or—it was an and.”

Guidara illuminates the theme of The Creative Tension of Opposites by positioning hospitality and excellence not as mutually exclusive objectives, but as complementary pillars essential to the success of Eleven Madison Park. The phrase “in the most difficult way possible” underscores the inherent challenge in striving to excel simultaneously in both domains, acknowledging the complexity and effort required to achieve this balance. Guidara’s assertion that success was not an “either/or” but an “and” situation encapsulates the core philosophy of his approach to hospitality, arguing for the integration of exceptional culinary artistry with unparalleled guest service. This perspective challenges a traditional dichotomy within the restaurant industry, advocating for a holistic model where excellence in food and excellence in service are seen as interdependent, rather than competing, goals.

“Then, at the end of our meal, when we were already stupefied with delight, a showstopper: our server presented us with a board of twenty-four different chocolate truffles in three rows—dark, milk, and white—and conversationally ran through a detailed description of every single one of them. It was a feat of memory so audacious, so superhuman, it might as well have been a magic trick. I scribbled frantically. Finally, I got to the cup of filter coffee I’d been served after dinner. It was a perfectly fine cup of coffee, but because everything else about that meal had been so unbelievably perfect perfect, that just-okay cup of coffee stood out.”

Guidara recounts a moment of inspiration derived from an exceptional dining experience at Per Se, in which the extraordinary presentation of chocolate truffles contrasted with a small lapse (a merely “perfectly fine cup of coffee”) that detracted from an otherwise flawless experience. This quote reinforces The Importance of Detail in achieving unparalleled hospitality. This anecdote illustrates the moment that gave rise to the ownership programs at EMP.

“Confession: I’m a perfectionist. If my wife parks the car crooked, I’ll repark it; if she leaves a book slightly askew on her nightstand, I’ll adjust it so it lines up with the edge. Every time she makes the bed, I remake it. (Luckily, she has a good sense of humor about all this.)”

In this candid admission, Guidara reveals his perfectionist tendencies through everyday examples, offering a glimpse into the meticulous attention to detail that defines both his personal and professional life. By highlighting his compulsion to correct even the minor imperfections in his domestic environment, such as a crookedly parked car or a misaligned book, Guidara underscores the depth of his commitment to order and precision. This confession, while lighthearted in tone, serves as a microcosm of the exacting standards he applies to the dining experience at Eleven Madison Park, suggesting that his pursuit of perfection transcends the boundaries of the restaurant and is an integral part of his character, moderated only by the understanding and humor of those closest to him.

“After the host brought you to the table, the captain would hand you menus and ask about your water preference. Moments later, and without any visible communication—often before the captain had even left the table—your server would be at the table, pouring your preferred water choice. It wasn’t magic; the captain had discreetly signaled your preference to one of their colleagues using a hand gesture (wiggled fingers for bubbles, a straight chop for still, and a twist of the fist for ice) behind their back.”

Guidara illustrates the seamless integration of sign language as a tool for enhancing service efficiency and discretion at Eleven Madison Park, showcasing the restaurant’s innovative approach to Connection, Communication, and Collaboration. The description of the captain’s subtle hand gestures to indicate guests’ water preferences—each gesture meticulously coded for a specific type of water—demonstrates EMP’s commitment to creating an unobtrusive yet highly personalized dining experience. This method, while practical in function, also adds an element of enchantment to the service, transforming routine interactions into moments of silent coordination and anticipation, emblematic of the restaurant’s dedication to detail and the elevation of hospitality to an art form.

“In the heat of service, a seemingly minor disagreement—for example, whether it’s more important to get a check down on table 28 before clearing dessert plates from 24—could easily mushroom into a situation where two excellent people weren’t communicating at all. But because we’d talked about this so much in pre-meal, all a manager would have to say to them at the end of the night were those five words: ‘Don’t go to bed angry.’”

Guidara addresses the high-stress environment of restaurant service at Eleven Madison Park, highlighting how small operational disagreements can escalate into significant communication breakdowns among staff. The phrase “Don’t go to bed angry” encapsulates Guidara’s proactive approach to conflict resolution, borrowed from conventional wisdom on personal relationships and applied to the professional context to foster a culture of open dialogue and reconciliation. This strategy underscores the importance of Connection, Communication, and Collaboration in maintaining a cohesive team dynamic, demonstrating that effective management involves not just directing service, but also facilitating healthy interpersonal interactions among staff, thereby ensuring that minor disputes do not detract from the overarching goal of exceptional hospitality.

“Bruni had recognized that we were bringing a more casual approach to fine dining—all the excellence, with less of that uncomfortable starch. Our informality had helped us earn that fourth star. Still, people were reserving tables months in advance; for many, this meal would be one of the most expensive ones of their lives. Given the hype and the price, they wanted a little ceremony. So we were faced with a conundrum: the very feature that had won us this accolade—our ease and informality in the dining room—had suddenly become less appropriate in the wake of it.”

This passage illustrates the theme of The Creative Tension of Opposites, reflecting on the nuanced balance Eleven Madison Park navigated between informality and the expectations of fine dining, particularly in the aftermath of receiving a four-star review from critic Frank Bruni. Guidara articulates the paradox that while EMP’s casual approach distinguished it within the fine dining landscape, contributing significantly to its acclaim, the resultant prestige and high demand created an expectation among guests for a degree of formality and ceremony commensurate with the cost and exclusivity of the experience. This situation underscores the complexity of evolving a restaurant’s identity in response to its successes, and the challenge of maintaining the core attributes that define its uniqueness while also adapting to the heightened expectations that accompany recognition and acclaim.

“When we were sitting in the auditorium, waiting for the 50 Best awards to begin, I was aware that every person in the room—Daniel and me included—was engaged in an unreasonable pursuit of excellence. But for almost everyone, the focus of that unreasonable pursuit was what was on the plate. It was the same old story: the magic happened in the kitchen, and the dining room was in service of that magic.”

Guidara reflects on the prevailing mentality at the 50 Best awards, encapsulating the broader industry’s emphasis on culinary achievement as the primary measure of a restaurant’s excellence. His observation that “the focus of that unreasonable pursuit was what was on the plate” underscores a widespread undervaluation of the dining room’s role, perpetuating the idea that a restaurant's artistry is confined to its kitchen. This passage highlights Guidara’s critical perspective on this imbalance, suggesting that while culinary innovation is already celebrated, the equally significant contributions of ambiance, service, and guest experience—elements that define the dining room—are often relegated to a secondary status, thereby reinforcing his commitment to elevating the role of hospitality in the narrative of fine dining excellence.

“Athletes go to the tape when they’ve had a bad game, to see what they can fix. They don’t often go to the tape when they’ve had a great game—but that’s how you celebrate and hold on to what you did well. So I started talking to the staff in pre-meal about the hot dog: What had made the gift so good? And what about it could we systemize?”

Guidara draws a parallel between athletes reviewing their performance and his approach to refining the dining experience at Eleven Madison Park, emphasizing the importance of learning from both successes and failures. By focusing on the positive outcome of the hot dog incident—a spontaneous act of hospitality that deeply resonated with guests—Guidara highlights a proactive strategy for excellence that involves not only identifying and correcting mistakes, but also recognizing and replicating moments of success. This reflective process, aimed at “systemizing” the elements that contributed to the success of the unexpected gift, encapsulates Guidara’s innovative approach to hospitality, in which exceptional experiences are meticulously analyzed and integrated into the fabric of the restaurant’s service model, thus ensuring that memorable moments are not left to chance but become a consistent feature of the dining experience.

“I thought of those transplants from EMP as sourdough starter: not only would we have the benefit of their impeccable technical training, but they’d seed the new spot with our culture.”

Guidara likens staff members transitioning from Eleven Madison Park to The NoMad to “sourdough starter,” metaphorically describing how these individuals acted as catalysts for cultivating the new restaurant’s desired culture and standards. This comparison emphasizes the organic, foundational role these employees played in transferring skills, and, more importantly, in embedding the ethos and values of EMP within The NoMad, ensuring a continuity of excellence and hospitality.