The Power of (Actually) Shared Experiences

One of my favorite past times is sharing a meal with friends: good company, good drinks, good food, and good conversation. When I look back on some of my favorite memories, it usually revolves around a shared meal. However, there's one problem. In the U.S., we don't actually share in the dining experience. You enjoy your meal, Mary enjoys her meal, Bob enjoys his meal, and I enjoy my meal. We have an experience together, but it's not a truly shared experience. We may be sitting at the same table, but depending on our specific order, we're each having a unique and siloed experience.

This has always bugged me, especially when order regret sets in. You know what I'm talking about. The server brings the dishes out and delicately places each one in front of the person who ordered it. You look at yours, then at your neighbor's, and realize you wish you ordered what they did.....it's the worst feeling!

All this dining angst came to a head when I made my first trip to Asia in January 2016. Sarah and I were invited to fly across the world so I could interview for a board position. Our first night rolls around, and it's time for dinner. I'm eagerly anticipating this meal, as I love unique food, and it's my first time eating Asian food in Asia. I'm totally geeking out, while at the same time nervous. What will I order? What if I make the wrong choice? What if I accidentally order something I don't like? There are so many things to eat....how do I pick just one? I'm weird, I know.

But as we get settled into our seats and it's time to order, something weird happens. My friend Rob just started ordering. He asks if anyone wants anything in particular, then continues to order more. A while later, food starts coming out. The plates, platters, and bowls are haphazardly set wherever there is space to house it. Then, the good part. Everyone starts serving themselves from each of them. You know, like you do at home with your family. You know, a truly shared experience. It was an amazingly fun experience. I tried maybe 15 different dishes that night, and each person at the table also experienced those same 15 dishes. It was a shared dining experience we don't often get here in the States.

An example of a truly shared experience meal. Notice the massive lazy suzan to efficiently share with each other. This picture makes me hungry!

From that point on, it changed how Sarah and I experience food when we go out to eat. She orders something, and I order something, then we share. As our kids have grown, we've expanded that experience. Each person will choose a menu item, and we request the servers to set all of them in the center and provide some extra plates. Then, we have our fun shared experience.

It's been a beautiful shift for our family. It adds an entirely new dynamic, excitement, and bonding. There's so much meaning in shared experiences, and I encourage everyone to seek them out whenever possible.

Lessons From the Alpine Inn

Last week while in the Black Hills of South Dakota, my family decided to spend our last night dining at a local establishment. My sister-in-law received a tip from a tour guide about a restaurant all the locals frequent. It's called the Alpine Inn, and is nestled on a fun little main street drag in Hill City, population 922. From the moment we walked into this old German restaurant, I knew something different was happening. Then, in the coming hours (yes, hours), I would learn that "different" doesn't even begin to explain it.

First, we walked in at 5:20 and were immediately told there was a 2-hour wait. What!?!? We had a feeling it was worth the wait, so we decided to keep ourselves busy for the next 120 minutes. The wives took the kids to some nearby shops, while my brother-in-law and I held the fort down (tough job, I know). I did what felt natural: I walked up to the bar to order an Old Fashioned. Except they didn't have a liquor license.....beer and wine only. No problem, I think to myself. It's a German place, so I'll enjoy a nice German beer. Cash only. Cash only!?!? The bartender pointed to an ATM 10 feet away (beside the ornate phone booth). I grabbed some cash for drinks and dinner, then quickly hurried back to the bar to retrieve my beer.

While we were waiting, I asked the bartender for a food menu. He referred me to a little sign in the doorway between the bar and restaurant, indicating that was the menu. I saw the sign when we walked in, but it only had two items....I assumed those were the specials. "Yes, we only have two items on the menu. Both are very good." Ah, got it! Of course there are only two items. Why not!?!? This excited me greatly, as any restaurant in a town of 922 people with a 2-hour wait at 5:20 PM and only two items on the menu HAS to be good! Spoiler alert: it was excellent! We had a wonderful time, and my kids enjoyed their first-ever "fancy" meal. To top it off, the prices were ridiculously reasonable. All in all, it was a fun, memorable, disorienting experience. I'm grateful for the Alpine Inn and the wonderful work they're doing.

Here's the point of my restaurant rant. The Alpine Inn breaks all the rules and simply follows their path.....and they do it to great success. They know who they are, who they serve, and how they serve them. They aren't trying to be everyone else. They aren't trying to be all things to all people. They aren't trying to chase the latest test trend. They are simply trying to be the Alpine Inn.....and they're doing a wonderful job at being the Alpine Inn.

There are a lot of lessons to be learned from the Alpine Inn......

Don't Judge a Birria By Its Cover

I'm in a men's group that meets every Wednesday at noon. Each week, a different person is responsible for choosing the restaurant. We only have three rules:

1. The chooser can't announce the selected restaurant until within 60 minutes of the meeting time.

2. The restaurant has to be within the city limits.

3. No national chains. 

This week was my week! I chose my favorite Mexican restaurant because they recently began serving Birria tacos. If you have yet to try Birria tacos, immediately stop reading this blog and Google where you can find them in your town. Anyway, this restaurant is always a no-brainer for me. There's a running joke in our town that every time a new restaurant is being built, we assume it's a Mexican restaurant. I just fact-checked it and can confirm our 72,000-person town has 12 Mexican restaurants......and my favorite is ranked #12. Dead last! Are you kidding me?!?!

Birria for the win!!

Here's the thing. This restaurant isn't fancy. It looks suspect on the outside, and though the inside is clean, there's nothing notable about the atmosphere. When I mention it to other residents, they respond with, "Ew, I'd never go there," or "I've never actually been there before." So how does such a "bad" restaurant become one of my favorites in town? Perhaps it's because of all the time I spend in SE Asia, but I've learned that when it comes to restaurants, we should never judge a book by its cover. Some of the best food in the world is served in some of the most unassuming spaces. Now I'm not calling this Mexican restaurant some of the best food in the world, but I am asserting that it's grossly overlooked for all the wrong reasons. When dining at a restaurant, I want fantastic food, served with a positive attitude, at a reasonable price. And "reasonable" is contextual to the situation. I've had $8 meals that were overpriced and $100 meals that were underpriced. But the food needs to stand on its own. 

This story has parallels with so many areas of life. We often overlook opportunities for the silliest of reasons:

• Everyone else is overlooking it, so it must not be good.

• It's not shiny and sexy.

• If we try it and fail, people may laugh at us.

• We don't clearly define what's important to us.

• It's easier to do what everyone else is doing

• We trust people's opinions, even when we shouldn't. 

Whether it's a suspect-looking restaurant or an interesting opportunity that presents itself to you, consider this idea. Some of the best gifts are wrapped in the dullest packaging. And remember, nobody really cares about the wrapping paper once you get inside.