The ornate, sensory-lust-farm restaurant—an ostrich-patterned dinner table floating on a neon lily pad in the middle of a hard kombucha lake that flushes into a subterranean speakeasy—is thriving. The bare-bones, “here’s some awesome food in a bag” restaurant is also thriving (The Friendly, Bica, The Kebab Shop).
It’s the middle that’s complaining about mysterious pains and looking a tad peaked—which makes immanent sense.
Restaurants are brands, and the key to great branding is either maximalism or minimalism. In-betweenism kills. In a visual-feast age of InstaTok, Meow Wolf, Marvel-movie domination, the Sphere, and surreal AI pop art, the khaki-hued yawn of a standard-issue restaurant doesn’t stand a shot unless the cacio e pepe is loads better than Nonna’s.
PARTNER CONTENT
Diners are paying up for design feasts. Or they’d rather chefs take over a condemned warehouse, cook kick-ass food on a Coleman camping stove, make their own wine in milk jugs, and pass the cost-savings onto the people.
