Classified cuisine
Eateries court customers, cultivate creativity with secret menus
“I don’t know how to keep something sacred without hiding it, you know? You just have to hide it.”
Eliot Hillis is discussing a relatively recent advent in his life that with this writing will gain more notoriety than the 71 followers it currently enjoys: his @clandestinecrunch Instagram account.
Clandestine Crunch — an “antisocial supper club,” its profile reads — is a secret menu at Orlando Meats, the Ivanhoe restaurant/butcher shop of which he is chef and co-owner.
It’s food for the sake of food. Weird things with weird names that sound like lines of coffeehouse spoken word. Matzoh balls made of Doritos. Greenstrawberry soy sauce. Dishes like the Marty Feldman, a Reuben sandwich transmogrified into a noodle dish.
It’s bits and bobs that this eatery — with its extended-life larder of fermentables and small-batch fresh ingredients
“I’m producing this for people who have the faith to let me work outside the bounds of what I can get away with on the regular menu.”
— Eliot Hillis, chef and co-owner at Orlando Meats
that come and go — sews together like Frankenstein’s monster. Art that is both fleeting and sacrosanct.
There may only be 10 orders available. And no, picky eaters, they won’t hold the mayo.
Save allergens, these dishes are non-negotiable.
“It’s a pure thing without adulteration,” says Hillis, whose secret menu is a “no descriptions, no omissions, no substitutions” play space where only culinary knights errant are permitted passage. The regular menu is for customization. Clandestine Crunch is for riders who shun helmets and let the wind mess their hair.
“I’m not producing this for the masses,” he says. “I’m producing this for people who have the faith to let me work outside the bounds of what I can get away with on the regular menu. Art by committee is no art at all.”
Hillis’ reasons for a secret menu — not unlike these dishes and those who would seek them out — may seem a bit rogue.
“But it’s really just about having a sense of adventure,” says Axel Stock, Ph.D. and associate professor of marketing for University of Central Florida. One of his specialties is something called “product scarcity marketing,” which fits neatly into the realm of secret menus. Diamonds are just rocks, after all.
“Some people are risk averse, probably most of the population,” says Stock. “But some are bold, they seek variety. And for those types of consumers, a secret menu is particularly appealing.”
These diners are a love match for creatives who chum the water with goodies on the down-low, posts that become passwords they can whisper at the counter and be delivered something utterly unique.
“If you have a restaurant,” says Stock, “you want to constantly differentiate yourself from the competition. With a secret menu, you can change things as often as you like and there’s no limit for you to be creative, to keep people coming back, and maybe something hits really big, and it ends up on the regular menu.”
Test driving
In fact, that’s precisely why many restaurants go the secret menu route in the first place.
“If you are a restaurant with many locations and a relatively fixed menu across the brand, any item you want to add to the menu costs a lot,” Stock explains.
A secret menu blasted on social is a bare-bones investment.
“If it fails, it’s not much of a loss,” Stock says. “If it succeeds, they can put it on the actual menu. Social media creates excitement and a customer who tastes it can post it on Facebook or elsewhere and create something viral, essentially free marketing for the company.”
That’s pretty on the nose per Patrick Daly, general manager of Bartaco Dr. Phillips. Bartaco operates in 21 locations over 12 states. One of their recent secret items — a vegan taco made with Brussels sprouts — recently made the jump to standard offering.
“The secret menu is a way to create buzz … We show it to taste-makers first, have them come in and try it and launch it on their platforms,” Daly says.
It’s always one item — taco, cocktail, dessert — which stays a few weeks before another is ushered in. At press time, it’s the Blood, Sweat & Cheers ($12), made with Libélula Joven Tequila.
“It’s a spin on our classic margarita with smoked paprika and agave syrup,” says Daly. “It’s a little spicy, a little smoky. It comes with a blood orange chip. If you don’t like spicy, we can make it without the jalapenos.”
Hardly the figurative middle finger you’d get at Clandestine Crunch, but then @bartacolife has more than 70,000 followers on Instagram and is owned by a private equity firm.
Ask and you might receive
And help restaurants create new menus while scratching your own itch. Case in point: me (and many others) at Sushi Lola’s in Orlando’s Audubon Park Garden District, where earlier this year I told my server I wanted something spicy.
“Well. It’s not on the regular menu,” she said, “but you can order the Hot Mama roll.”
Inside: spicy tuna, cucumber and fresh jalapeno. Outside: seared tuna, spicy ponzu, scallion and habanero masago. It was fiery and flavorful and I loved it. And as of June, I just discovered, it’s on the official Deluxe Roll menu. Number 41, to be precise.
“It’s not really a ‘secret menu,’ ” says chef/owner Aaron Pak of his roster of covert creations, “but I really like to play with food, and if something gets a great reception, we will eventually add it to the menu.”
Pak and his team enjoy mixing it up. Everyone has free rein to experiment. It’s methodology that keeps the menu fresh with guesttested dishes while offering job satisfaction.
“If [employees are] restricted to making just what’s formally offered, I think they lose their creative drive … one of the best things about sushi is that it’s continually evolving.”
By the employees, for the guests
Twistee Treat started its secret menu this Halloween, offering three cones only social media followers — or those who visited the website — heard about. It was fun and interactive.
“We did a riddle-based game for the Scary Halloween Secret Menu,” says Ryan Glaze, social media marketing manager at Twistee Treat USA. Guests could read the riddles and try to guess the monster on which each treat was based, then click to reveal it. It was a runaway hit.
“For us, doing something that small and only promoting it on social — it’s been very successful,” Glaze says.
Post engagement ticked up by roughly 50 percent. And so, they’re doing it again via Santa’s Secret Holiday Menu.
“We wanted to create special recipes for our guests,” says Glaze. The company involves employees in their creation, something inspired, in part, by a brand Glaze enjoys: Wawa.
“They have a secret menu they run from time to time,” he says. “You can click on the little bird on the menu screen to see it … but the part that really struck me was that the special drinks offered were touted as being team-member-created, which made me want to try them.”
By the guests, for the guests
Long before opening Pom Pom’s Teahouse and Sandwicheria in the Milk District, Pom Moongauklang cut her teeth at Nobu — one of New York City’s ritziest restos. They had a secret menu for their most exclusive regulars.
“We’d give them a little box, and inside was a special candy made just for the high rollers,” she says. “Depending on who it was, there might be a totally separate omakase just for them. It resonated with me, the idea of something special that went a little deeper.”
Few things in Orlando have gone deeper than the Pulse tragedy.
“We had regulars, Ramon and Christopher — they went by Juan and Drew — who would come in every Saturday, after Pulse, to be with us for the late-night,” says Moongauklang. “They passed away that night.”
In the wake of the mass shooting, a nonprofit — The Dru Project — was created to honor Drew (whose real name was Christopher Andrew Leinonen) and the 48 other victims.
The Sweetheart Melt (brie, strawberry jelly, whole basil leaves) — now a best-seller on Pom’s secret menu — was created as part of a fundraiser for the organization, which still receives the proceeds for all sales.
“It’s a combination of what they’d usually come in and order,” says Moongauklang. “It just stuck on the menu and people would come in and keep asking for it. It made them feel a closeness. We wanted to keep it for them.”
Other items include the Vegas Lou (Pom’s homage to neighbor Whiskey Lou’s, “it’s a good sopper,” she says, laughing) or the Gouda Meatcha, “which goes back to the first night I met [Anthony Bencomo of ] Deli Fresh Threads and we came up with a sandwich together.”
They’re available anytime but will never go on the regular menu.
“That’s already very extensive and we have a lot of regulars, some for 14 years! It’s a longevity thing,” she says. “They may love it, but they can only have a thousand Thanksgiving sandwiches. This gives them something new to get hooked on. It’s a nice way to make them feel special that also extends to other customers.”
Stock agrees with the summation. He says it relates well to today’s social media-driven construct.
“Knowing about a secret menu adds to the social status of a person,” he notes. “If I share it, people may look at me in higher regard. In increasing the status of their online persona … they become a person people want to hang out with, a person you go to for information.”
Regular with a side of not
Hillis and his cohorts understand that most people who walk into Orlando Meats want their awardwinning Medium-Rare Burger. Some days it accounts for half their sales.
“It’s good. We’re proud of it. It’s our flagship. ” he says. “The trade-off was that the rest of the menu was totally up for grabs.”
But a couple of months in, other customer favorites began to solidify into staples. The menu became less of a playground. They may be creatives, “but we’re still in the business of making people happy,” says Hillis. “We don’t have the room to be crazy anymore.”
A secret menu affords crazy space, room to give small concepts time in the sunlight — dishes like Ladybug, a tamagoyaki (Japanese omelet) with Cheddar cheese (a very un-Japanese ingredient), that’s chilled, deep fried and stuffed in a sandwich with bleu cheese, tomato and pickles.
“It’s part stoner, part mad scientist and part freestyle jazz,” says Hillis, “Nothing anyone would call a sound culinary concept.”
But it’s perfect for a secret menu, essentially open-mic night for dishes that might make the charts one day.
Want to reach out? Find me on Facebook, Twitter or Instagram (@amydroo) or on the OSFoodie Instagram account (@orlando.foodie). Email: amthompson@orlandosentinel.com. Want more foodie news? Sign up for the Food & Drink newsletter at orlandosentinel.com/newsletters.