Simple food, simple words: the fine art of menu writing. (Menus).

I was dining out at a tapas bar with a good friend recently. This friend loves simple food, well prepared. She is no stranger to fine dining, but is not a "foody." She had only tried tapas once before and had enjoyed the experience, primarily due to a very knowledgeable server who had explained the menu and had steered her in some interesting directions. This was not to be the case on the evening in question.

The bar/restaurant was small and crowded. It was deep red--and gold-colored with pheasants and Spanish Serrano hams--hooves and all--hanging from the rafters. The wine list and menu were primarily in Spanish, with minimal descriptives. That was fine if you were in a venture-some mood, but potentially daunting for someone seeking a simple, well-prepared meal.

"What did you have when you were here before?" my friend asked. "A sausage with chicken skewer and a sea bass special," I replied, adding that both had been very good.

She pointed at a menu item: "Lubina a la Plancha--Grilled sea bass with Romesco sauce $6.75." "What is Romesco sauce?" she asked. I didn't know, so we asked the server. "It's a tomato sauce," the young woman replied unhelpfully. My friend loves rice so I asked if we could get a side of the saffron rice used in the paella to accompany the several tapas plates we had ordered. "The chef doesn't do that," the server replied.

Well the chef did do that, and the food that we ended up ordering was excellent. But I won't be taking that friend back to that restaurant, which is a shame. The menu and poor service made the experience too much of a threat and a hassle for her. Obviously, educated, helpful wait staff are key to a good dining experience, but it was painfully obvious to me that evening that a little bit of a simple, straight-to-the-point writing on the menu could save the day--and boost sales for that restaurant.

It would be too easy to use this space to take pot shots at the convoluted, highfalutin, misspelled--and just plain stupid in some cases--verbiage that has appeared on menus in the clubs and resorts I've visited over the years. Instead, let's use our space usefully, as your staff should use the space in the menus for your dining venues.

Menus are marketing, and all good marketing begins with questions. Question One is: "What does the member/guest want to know about your food?" Piling on the adjectives and the hyperbole in order to sell an entree may deal with your primal need as a food and beverage manager to flog your food, but it doesn't begin to address my needs as a diner.

Let's go back to that Romesco sauce at the tapas bar. How hard then would it have been to have described the entree my friend inquired about as "Seared Sea Bass, with Romesco sauce--a slightly spicy pepper and tomato sauce' made with olive oil and ground hazelnuts"?

Without speaking down or over-explaining, we've answered the diner's questions and needs. Admittedly, some chefs would prefer that the menu not go into minute detail on the techniques of preparation, but there's a lot of space between the cute names and colored pictures of food on chain restaurant menus, and the blow-by-blow field- or ocean-to-plate descriptives that appear in some fine dining menus. You could add that that Romesco sauce originated in the town of Tarragona near Barcelona, but then you enter the zone a marketing consultant I knew used to refer to as: "So what?" If it doesn't supply information that helps me decide whether it fits my needs, leave it out.

In researching the concept of menu-speak, I was amused to discover an Internet offering at a website for teachers for a secondary school writing exercise titled, "The Power of Words." The exercise was outlined as follows: "Your corporation has purchased a small restaurant that had a failing business. Your research discovered that the problem was not population base but that the menu was too bland. You intend to serve the same food; but by using double speak (emotion and label manipulation, half truths, hidden messages, etc.) you will change the perception of the menu and the restaurant."

It's a pity that this educator's writing exercise has some warped basis in reality. While a well-written description can indeed make the food come alive, there is no help--menu writing, decor, live music.... whatever that will disguise poorly-prepared food or inattentive service. So let's assume that your food and service are up to snuff. What approach should your menu writing take?

In a recent issue of Slate, the online discussion salon, food writer and cook Sara Dickerman wrote: "went to a nice vegetarian restaurant the other night and had crosnes. Specifically, I had Roasted Garlic-Marjoram Risotto With English Pea Creme Brulee, Crosnes, Turnip-Collard Green 'Lasagna,' and Black Truffle Vinaigrette. Normally, I would not have ordered a dish like this--way too much on the plate--but I had homed in on the one word I had never seen before, asked the server about it, and ordered away.

"Crosnes, it turns out, are small larva-shaped vegetables, crunchy and not much else. They did very little in the dish, but on the menu, they had done a spectacular job of roping me into a dish I wouldn't otherwise have ventured."

That may be the case for Ms. Dickerman, but it is not necessarily so for the great majority of diners, even with the wider exposure of the public--particularly those of means--to a wider variety of cuisines.

Let's assume that your chef is doing a wonderful job. He/she is doing a wonderful job of incorporating local/seasonal ingredients (the word "fresh" should be banned from use in menus: If it's not fresh, why would you serve it?). Your food venues each have signature dishes and special touches that make the guest or members feel special. So how do you incorporate that in the way you compose your menu?

In the British trade magazine Restaurant, Drew Smith and Hugo Arnold presented what may be the quintessential list of the do's and don'ts of menu writing:

Don't ...

* Mix up languages. If it is French, it is French;

* Mix the cooking influences;

* Insult your customers with words they don't understand;

* Use cliches;

* Clutter the menu with non-essentials;

* Be unfaithful. If it is not a beurre blanc, don't call it one;

* Have spelling mistakes;

* Christen your dishes with names like Gloria or Evette, unless it is your (mom) or (aunt) or your name is Escoffier.

Do ...

* Show respect for tradition;

* Include set menus;

* Give the waiters a role;

* Have a starring dish--something people can talk about;

* Match up wines to dishes by the glass;

* Be brief;

* Be accurate;

* Avoid cliches.

In short, the best menus are like the best food: Straightforward, simple, and understandable.