“Let me run through the specials for tonight,” says the waiter. “We have trucker caps, T-shirts, tote bags and the chef’s new cookbook, hot off the press.”
Restaurants and bars have always been keen on small tokens, such as matchbooks and drinks coasters, but hospitality merchandise has ramped up considerably since COVID-19. Because it works.
We wear their T-shirts and caps and proudly tote the tote bags, happy to show our support and to brag that we’ve been there and done that. The restaurants love it because we’re walking, talking advertisements for their brands.
And let’s face it, if your food and labour costs have gone up 9 per cent in the past 12 months and your earnings haven’t, then $2 profit for every T-shirt can mean a lot.
In winter, merch sales turn from tees to warm pairs of socks (Vic’s Meat) and brightly knitted scarves (KFC).
That unstoppable ice-cream shop, Gelato Messina, can outfit you from head to toe in T-shirts, socks, onesies and “eye-scream” tracksuits in the most alarming shade of sky-blue, ready for that impromptu, late-night gelato run.
It even has a lipbalm, and a vanilla-scented air freshener, to induce an instant craving for ice-cream any time you go for a drive.
The best merchandising, however, is an extension of the core values of the restaurant. Fish specialist Saint Peter sells a stainless-steel fish weight designed to give you crisp-skinned fish every time – although with it weighing in at 1.6 kilograms, you don’t want to be anywhere nearby when that merch drops.
At Birregurra in country Victoria, three-hatted restaurant Brae has a thoughtful range that reflects its own terroir, from Cone 11 handmade ceramics to the feather-filled “Stormy Skies” cushions from artist Emma Hayes that feature in the guest suites.
And if you’ve ever wondered what dinner at a three-hatted restaurant smells like, then Sydney’s Quay offers a singularly lovely scented candle. Cooked up by chef Peter Gilmore and perfumer Craig Andrade of The Raconteur, it opens with zingy citrus notes, follows with the warmth of juniper and cumin, a hint of floral and a heart of woody, smoky patchouli and labdanum, before finishing on a whiff of oceanic moss.
It’s probably only a matter of time, in fact, before Good Weekend tries to merchandise this column. Anyone care for an Empty Plate empty plate?
Terry Durack has been reviewing restaurants and seeking out new food experiences for three decades. Author of six books and former critic for London’s Independent on Sunday and the Sydney Morning Herald, Terry was twice named Glenfiddich Restaurant Critic of The Year in the UK, and World Food Media’s Best Restaurant Critic. Australian-born and a resident of Sydney, he brings a unique perspective on the global food scene to his travel writing.
