Along the 101 in San Diego's North County, the surf reigns. At all hours of the day, its worshipers gently bob up and down on their boards as they commune with the oceanic energy that will propel them on the ride of their lives.
The mighty Pacific with its rough swells and gentle sunsets drives much of the culture up and down the coast of California. Schedules are flexed to catch the better wave. The pace of life reflects the need to come up for air. Fitness isn't so much vanity; but necessity. And the food scene is as casual as the region's dress code. No shirt? No shoes? Take a seat.
The mighty Pacific with its rough swells and gentle sunsets drives much of the culture up and down the coast of California. Schedules are flexed to catch the better wave. The pace of life reflects the need to come up for air. Fitness isn't so much vanity; but necessity. And the food scene is as casual as the region's dress code. No shirt? No shoes? Take a seat.
Where the best brunch in town is bacon scented and exclusive to the campsite RVs lining the cliffs of the coast. Where the traditional American Fast Foodie flocks to one particular specialist with a cult following.
Where consumers in search of an authentic borderland bite pledge their loyalty to the taco shop that best fits their understanding of Mexicana. Where fast casual is fresher than any brand promise Panera can offer; fresh on the 101 inherently means it's imported directly from the Pacific and the farms that kiss its shores.
Where the fine side of dining isn't stuffy or stodgy and typically includes a sunset view.
And where the independent, family-owned, local, skateboard ride away destination is king. It's what's real. And honest. And good.
Which brings me to my dilemma: trying to figure out how the nation's largest restaurant chain can appeal to a consumer set that has been preprogrammed to find fault in the way we source, prepare and serve our food.
From what I've learned over the past seven months, there's no catch-all solution to improving the brand's reputation. Rather, a lot of small and big moves that the company needs to make to start shifting the pendulum. One very tangible response is the four-restaurant Build Your Burger test in San Diego and Laguna Niguel that I've been working on. It's a platform designed to deliver real and fresh personalization to customers; made-to-order burgers, stacked with premium ingredients, served to you table side with a smile. It's a bold leap for the brand, but one we have to make to appeal to the evolving tastes and preferences of the American consumer, led largely by the populations along the coasts of this country.
And I can tell you that my little surfer girl will grow up lovin' it.
Which brings me to my dilemma: trying to figure out how the nation's largest restaurant chain can appeal to a consumer set that has been preprogrammed to find fault in the way we source, prepare and serve our food.
From what I've learned over the past seven months, there's no catch-all solution to improving the brand's reputation. Rather, a lot of small and big moves that the company needs to make to start shifting the pendulum. One very tangible response is the four-restaurant Build Your Burger test in San Diego and Laguna Niguel that I've been working on. It's a platform designed to deliver real and fresh personalization to customers; made-to-order burgers, stacked with premium ingredients, served to you table side with a smile. It's a bold leap for the brand, but one we have to make to appeal to the evolving tastes and preferences of the American consumer, led largely by the populations along the coasts of this country.
I don't want to say much more about this project, but I can tell you that its principals are the future of our restaurants. I can tell you the customer service experience is best in class. I can tell that the burger and its topping are fresh and delicious.
I can tell you that the fries are better than ever.
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