Strangest requests from restaurant customers come with a story. A Chef takes us behind the menu and shares what travellers rarely see.
There is a moment in every trip that I particularly love. You sit down at a table in a place you may know very little about, open the menu and, before anything arrives in front of you, you have already done something important. You have placed your trust in a kitchen.
I have worked in professional kitchens for 25 years, and I have been on the other side of that moment thousands of times. I have watched couples raise their glasses, families share plates, solo travellers observe the room and people arrive tired after an entire day on the road. I have lived through wonderful services and nights when the weight of being responsible as a Chef felt far heavier than the apron I was wearing.
I have also heard some of the strangest requests from restaurant customers over the years. A medium fillet with no “blood.” Food with no salt that still needs to taste salty. Meat brought from home for us to cook. A lobster someone wants to eat without killing the lobster. After all these years, I have learned that the strange question itself is rarely the real problem. What becomes interesting is how you answer it.
I often say that food is an extension of your soul. I do not mean that as a romantic exaggeration. A dish needs excellent ingredients, technique and concentration. There are days when you have barely slept, when you have not had time to see your family, when even a simple walk has become a luxury. All of that has to stay outside the kitchen. The guest has come to enjoy their own day, and that is where your attention needs to be.
Can I order a medium steak without any “blood”?
I have heard this more times than you might expect. My first instinct is to understand what the customer actually expects when they say medium. Culinary terms travel easily through restaurants, television and social media, and the picture each person has in mind is not always the same.
In a professional kitchen, doneness is controlled through temperature and a thermometer, rather than sight alone. Even experienced Chefs have encountered the same confusion. Michael Symon, a James Beard Award winner known to American audiences from Iron Chef, has described customers ordering a rare steak and then sending it back because it was cool inside. They had ordered the meat rare without fully understanding what that would mean once it arrived on the plate.
In a situation like this, there is no need to turn the conversation into a demonstration of culinary knowledge. A short explanation and a question about the result the person at the table actually wants will usually resolve the issue before the meat even reaches the heat.
Can I order chicken or pork medium?
This is where food safety enters the conversation, and a Chef has a very specific responsibility. I remember once telling a waiter, after receiving such a request, to ask the customer to sign a consent form accepting responsibility for their choice. Of course, there was no such form sitting in the kitchen. It was my very direct way of making it clear that food safety comes with boundaries a Chef has a responsibility to respect.
There is an important distinction here. Chicken and pork do not share the same safe internal temperature. According to the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA), poultry should reach a safe minimum internal temperature of 165°F (73.9°C), while pork steaks, chops and roasts should reach 145°F (62.8°C), followed by a resting time of at least three minutes. A professional kitchen follows the appropriate temperatures and food safety procedures for each product.
Can food with no salt still taste salty?
A kitchen has plenty of tools for bringing intensity to a dish. Herbs, spices, acidity, aromas and different techniques can create a fuller flavour experience and make the absence of salt less noticeable.
There is also a point where honesty matters. A dish prepared without salt cannot promise exactly the same salty taste. A Chef can work creatively within that restriction and still make something delicious. Explaining that clearly to the guest is also part of the job of an experienced Chef.
Can I bring my own meat to a restaurant?
Yes, it has happened. Bringing your own meat is not the same as walking into a restaurant that allows BYOB with a bottle of wine in your hand.
A professional kitchen chooses its suppliers, knows the products it receives and follows specific procedures for receiving, storing, temperature control and handling. A piece of meat that arrives with a customer sits outside that process. The Chef does not know its origin, how it was transported or how it was stored before reaching the restaurant door. The answer, in that case, can be a polite and very clear no.
Can I eat lobster without killing the lobster?
This is one of those requests I still remember. The customer wanted to eat lobster without killing the lobster for the meal.
The easiest reaction would be to laugh. The professional response is to explain. A guest is not a cook and does not need to know every process that takes place before a dish reaches the table. You explain in simple terms what is possible and what that particular food requires. Knowledge in a kitchen has value when it helps the person sitting at the table. It does not need to make them feel uncomfortable.
Can I order what they’re having at the next table?
This is one of the requests I genuinely enjoy. Someone sees a plate pass in front of them, watches it arrive at the table opposite and suddenly the menu becomes irrelevant. They want what they have just seen, they have no idea what it is called and they do not want to interrupt the woman eating it to ask.
The solution is simple. You find out which dish it is, tell them what is in it and take the order. There is no need for a lesson in gastronomy or a comment on their choice. That small moment contains so much of what hospitality is about. Someone has seen something that made them hungry, and you help them enjoy it.
What do we look for in a restaurant when we travel?
When I travel and choose a restaurant, I want to taste what its kitchen has to say. A menu carries technique, ingredients, seasonality, experience and a personal point of view. Very often, it carries something of the place itself. One of the great pleasures of travel is discovering a city, an island or a country through a table.
I expect the same from someone who chooses to sit down at the restaurant where I cook. If every dish had to begin from scratch according to each customer’s instructions, a page listing five proteins and five side dishes for people to combine however they wished would be enough. A menu exists to express a particular culinary idea, and that idea is part of the experience you chose.
The old phrase “the customer is always right” has occupied people in the restaurant world for years. When Eater, the American publication covering food, restaurants and dining culture, put the question to five Chefs, including Enrique Olvera, Alex Stupak, Daniel Patterson, RJ Cooper and Shuna Fish Lydon, their answers revolved around a common idea. Guests need to be heard, and hospitality requires genuine effort. Daniel Patterson focused on whether the customer leaves happy, and RJ Cooper emphasised the importance of hearing the customer even when the kitchen does not agree with the request.
The relationship between restaurants and their guests now continues on our phone screens. In an article published by Allrecipes, one of the largest American cooking and food lifestyle publications, three restaurant professionals pointed to a behaviour they find particularly difficult: a customer leaves without mentioning a problem and later posts a negative review. The restaurant then loses the opportunity to put something right while the guest is still there.
Over the course of my career, I have heard a complaint about a meal because there were mosquitoes in the restaurant’s outdoor area that evening, and another because the waiter did not look a customer in the eye enough. The strangest requests are not always about what is on the plate. I have learned to listen first, explain when necessary and step out of the kitchen to speak personally with a guest when I believe it can help.
I look for the same things when I am the person sitting on the other side of the table: curiosity, communication and a little trust. A good meal has a great deal in common with a good journey. It invites you to discover something you did not know and to allow people who understand their place and their kitchen to show you their own point of view.
A journey can stay with you for many reasons, and one of them can often be found at a table. In a menu you opened and a kitchen you decided to trust.
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