This is Part 2 of a three-part series on the most overlooked profit lever in food and beverage: the menu. Part 1 (September 2025) focused on using menu design to improve profit margin. Part 2 dives into how to build a menu that tells a story guests want to buy into. Part 3 will look at how choice architecture and guest behavior impact menu design. 

Every year, hospitality white papers on menu design come out reinforcing the notion that something as simple as a featured or formatted item can outsell unformatted ones by as much as 25 percent, and that language choice alone can lift the perceived value of an item by double digits. Yet the average menu still gets designed on a borrowed laptop, printed in-house, and laminated like a pool pass.

When you treat a menu like an asset, it performs like one.

Consider one resort scramble that reframed its digital board layouts by streamlining the bulk and replacing it with a clear “Legendary Favorites” highlighted section. The move increased throughput by 15 percent, and check averages climbed based on suggestive selling. No financial asks. No extra staff. Just sharper communication for more ROI.

The Menu is Marketing

Guests start forming opinions the second they handle the menu. The weight of the paper, the fonts, the spacing between items, even the phrasing of a drink name—all of it signals what kind of experience they’re in for.

In one resort hotel lounge, the cocktail list had long been an afterthought. One narrow column of text, all-caps drink names, and descriptor fine print so tight guests had to use the magnifying app on their smart phone. Mix-matched naming themes like “Brad’s Old-Fashioned” sat beside “Bourbon Old Fashioned,” both with similar ingredients, both priced the same, both ignored.

During the off-season, the team overhauled and re-designed the page from font to formatting. They grouped cocktails into three clusters—“Mountain Legends,” “Local Innovators,” and “Applauded Après.” Descriptions were trimmed to one line each, and a short note under the header read, “collaborations with regional distillers using artisanal ingredients.”

Within a month of reopening, cocktail sales rose 20 percent and the “Applauded Après” section outsold the pack. Nothing in the overall theme changed. The shift was all perception.

That is how a menu markets. Its language builds tone, and its layout builds logic. Together these tell a specific story.

A Storybook for Adults

Every menu tells a story, whether the writer means it to or not. The difference is whether the story sparks interest. Stories should be short, arousing (mentally and viscerally) narratives about place, people, and palate.

Names and phrases shape how guests imagine the experience before they taste it. “Grilled Cheese” is just lunch. “Mountain Melt: cold smoked sharp cheddar, 3 Hills Bakery sourdough, farmers cut pickles” invites people into the landscape. “By the Glass” sounds transactional; “Iconic Reds” sounds like curation.

A good story builds value, too. A $22 burger feels steep until the menu quietly declares premium: “Silverstone Ranch 80/20 with baconaise sauce, heirloom tomato salsa, buttered and toasted brioche bun.” The story justifies the price. Guests are not paying for toppings. They are paying for composition, in the writing as well as the dish build.

These details work because they pull the guest into the story of the concept. They also help the staff. A menu that tells a clear story gives servers and bartenders language they can repeat naturally. It becomes part of the house vocabulary, not a sales pitch.

The Science of Suggestion

Menus have always been behavioral tools. They guide attention, simplify decisions, and create the illusion of freedom of choice while quietly shaping the outcome.

Even small wording changes can lift sales. The difference between “Fish Sandwich” and “Crispy Pacific Cod with Lemon Aioli” isn’t culinary, but the second version helps the guest justify a higher price without feeling upsold. 

A smart footer on the restaurant menu—”locals swear by the stew”—is a reassuring cue to guests who want to feel in on the secret or share in the choice everyone else already trusts. It’s a suggestion that focuses on belonging rather than salesmanship.

Scarcity plays a similar strategy. Phrases like “Plate of the week” or “Today only” create urgency without pressure. Sequence matters, too. Start sections with comfort dishes, build through variety, and end with something aspirational. That rhythm builds confidence and curiosity at the same time. Where an item sits, how it is framed, and how much space it is given also influences what gets ordered.

A base lodge café moved its house-made cinnamon bun to a created top banner of the sandwich board with a small callout reading “baked fresh daily,” which led to an early sell out almost every weekend. No promotion, no price drop, just smart positioning.

Menus that understand this science turn words and design into P&L strategies.

Menu Tweaks Matter

The Menu’s Hidden Choreography

Most guests do not read menus. They scan them. The job of design is to align with people’s natural behavior. Their eyes move in patterns, searching for comfort or curiosity. They tend to start at the top left, drift right, and settle near the middle. That is why smart operators save those zones for items that matter most—signatures, high-margin dishes, or crowd-pleasers that set the tone or reinforce the brand.

At a fast-casual restaurant, one small menu adjustment rewired consumer decision making. By moving the signature sandwich to the upper right corner of the menu and shading and outlining it just enough to catch the eye, the item became a new cult classic within weeks. Guests didn’t know why they noticed it first, only that it felt like the obvious pick. When layout matches how the brain searches for information, the guest feels calm and confident in their choice.

Spacing is also strategy. White space gives the brain room to breathe. Too much text creates fatigue, while smart groupings build logic. At one tavern, simply separating espresso cocktails from seasonal features doubled visibility for the house specialty. The guests did not read more. They just noticed more.

Typography has its own psychology, too. Serif fonts feel classic. Sans-serif reads modern. Italics feel personal. These details illustrate personality, and shape how guests perceive and connect to your concept.

Edit Like It Matters

Menus collect history and scars: specials that never left, typos nobody noticed, staff personal favorites that get layered on, descriptions that only made sense three seasons ago. Over time, the clutter tells its own story—one of distraction. The untidiness doesn’t just confuse guests, it slows kitchens, clouds priorities, and clogs profit.

Strong operators treat editing as maintenance. Twice a year, they print a fresh copy and sit down with pens in hand. The team reads every line out loud. What sounds tired gets cut. What still earns its place stays. One chef calls the process “menu conversations.” It takes their team an afternoon and makes things easier and clearer for the guest.

Every word on a menu costs something. The best operators cut fluff, curate ingredients, tell the truth, and make an effort to romance. “Soup of the Day” is soulless. “Carrot-Ginger / toasted pumpkin seeds / spicy candied pecans” sounds alive. 

The same rule applies behind the bar. A cocktail named “Gin Fizz” blends into the background. Call it “Monashee Fizz with High Country Honey” and it suddenly sounds like it belongs to your mountain, not a chain restaurant menu written from 1,000 miles away.

Consistency matters, too. If one section reads “fine dining” and another sounds like a food court, the guest senses and questions the disconnect. A unified tone reassures guests that someone is paying attention to the details.

One clear word adds value; one vague word adds hesitation; two extra words add clutter. Each word should earn its place on the page the same way every ingredient earns its place on the plate.

The Last Course 

A menu reveals priorities faster than any business plan or staff meeting ever could. Write it with purpose. Design it with care. Keep it alive. Guests notice the difference, even when they can’t explain why.