Danny Meyer, “The Bear,” and Enlightened Hospitality
I became familiar with Danny Meyer’s “enlightened hospitality” concept in 2012 while working on an article about the now late, great NYC jazz venue, the Jazz Standard. Seth Abramson, the club’s programmer who curated and booked the top-flight jazz talent, mentioned the idea during an interview. I was intrigued by the distinction he explained between regular service vs. enlightened hospitality, so I read Meyer’s Setting the Table: The Transformative Power of Hospitality in Business.
I’d been a student of business and leadership books since high school because my dad drummed into me the value of entrepreneurship and business ownership. Black Enterprise magazine was a favorite periodical; Inc., Success, and Entrepreneur, too. So, I loved Meyer’s tales of food and service, and the principles underlying his dedication to the restaurant business. For instance, in chapter 3, about the launch of his first establishment, the Union Square Café, he wrote:
The beautiful choreography of service is, at its best, an art form, a ballet. I appreciate the grace with which a table can be properly cleared. I admire the elegance with which a bottle of wine can be appropriately opened, decanted, and poured. There’s aesthetic value in doing things the right way. But I respond best when the person doing those things realizes the purpose of all this beauty at the table is to create pleasure for me. To go through the motions in a perfunctory or self-absorbed manner, no matter how expertly rendered, diminishes the beauty. It’s about soul—and service without soul, no matter how elegant, is quickly forgotten by the guests.
—Danny Meyer
Elegant, soulful service suffused with excellent jazz music: that was the imperative of a Sunday Jazz Brunch that Jewel and I co-produced with Chef Kenneth Collins in Harlem during Barack Obama’s second term. We promoted the event to locals and tour groups, booked the jazz artists, and handled front-of-house duties such as greeting and seating guests, and emcee duties, while Chef Collins was in charge of the back-of-house food prep and service for the buffet main dishes and desserts. Time and again, we and the guests were treated to scrumptious meals that elevated “soul food” to a higher plane of taste and variety while maintaining a downhome feel.
It felt so good to present jazz in Harlem, where so many of the legends and icons of the music roamed the land as musical masters. Yet what surprised me was how much it moved me to see family and friends enjoying themselves as they listened and communed together over meals. I even pitched in bussing tables, clearing the way for the next set of customers coming to MIST Harlem on 116th St. between Lenox and Fifth avenues. Making others feel good and bringing them enjoyment felt like we were doing good while striving to do well in business.
A foundation for the experience had been set by Meyer’s book and his framing of hospitality.
Understanding the distinction between service and hospitality has been at the foundation of our success. Service is the technical delivery of a product. Hospitality is how the delivery of that product makes its recipient feel. Service is a monologue—we decide how we want to do things and set our own standards for service. Hospitality, on the other hand, is a dialogue. To be on the guest’s side requires listening to that person with every sense, and following up with a thoughtful, gracious, appropriate response. It takes both great service and great hospitality to rise to the top.
—Danny Meyer
What Meyer calls listening to others “with every sense” is a basis of the head-heart-soul principle of profoundly deep listening—Big Ears—we share with our Jazz Leadership Project clients. It begins with focused attention, truly being present for the exchange. Listening with empathy is another aspect, while what we deem soulful, generative listening is a warm co-creation of a shared vision for moving forward together in the immediate future and beyond.
Enlightened hospitality, however, goes even further than the distinction from technical proficiency. In running his business, there are five primary stakeholders, in this order:
Employees First: Meyer prioritizes his team members above all else, believing that you can never make customers happier than your staff feels coming to work. This is the foundation of his "virtuous cycle of enlightened hospitality."
Customers Second: When employees are treated well, they provide exceptional service that creates memorable experiences for guests, making them feel "warm, fulfilled, and genuinely better than before they walked through the doors."
Community Third: Meyer emphasizes giving back to the neighborhoods where businesses operate, engaging team members in volunteer opportunities, and creating channels to build customer bonds outside the restaurant.
Suppliers Fourth: Building quality relationships with vendors ensures the best ingredients and products to work with.
Investors Fifth: Meyer believes "the greatest way to be selfish is to go last." By taking care of the first four stakeholders properly, investors ultimately receive better returns as the business thrives.
This approach creates what Meyer calls a "virtuous cycle where one good thing leads to something better,” with each priority reinforcing the next, creating a self-sustaining system that benefits all involved.
Learning the Big WHY from The Bear
The above model informs how and why we do business at the Jazz Leadership Project, in which we strive to bring value to our prospects, clients, vendors, and musicians at every touchpoint. By doing so, we honor the music and others as well as ourselves. Consideration of all of the above was inspired by my binge-watching the acclaimed tragicomic drama, The Bear, with Jewel. Those who are fans of the show know how superb it is, so if you haven’t checked it out, consider doing so because the show captures so well the pain and (the often momentary) triumphs of leadership not only in business but in family, friendship, and life.
We’d heard how good the series was, but seeing is believing, as the fates and fortunes of a family-owned restaurant with an ensemble led by the deeply troubled yet supremely talented Carmen “Carmy” Anthony Berzatto, who after leaving his dysfunctional—to say the least—family and becoming one of the best chef de cuisines in the nation, returns home to run the local sandwich shop left by his older brother, who committed suicide.
One scene, from the beginning of the last episode of Season Three, struck home the “enlightened hospitality” theme that prompted this very piece. It’s Carmy’s first day at The French Laundry, owned by real-life chef Thomas Keller, who takes time to demonstrate how to take out a wishbone from a chicken skillfully, and dispenses wisdom:
Why do cooks cook? We cook to nurture people . . . To me, [this] is such a profound profession to really be a part of people's lives in significant ways. Never forget that. We are here today because of those who came before us.
The big WHY. That is the question. And as a leader in various dimensions of your own life, what are your Whys?