The secret ingredient was never on the menu
Every restaurant has its strengths. Or at least should have if it is going to have any chance of surviving.
For some, it’s the food. For others, the room, the location, the reputation. As restaurants go, Kilroy’s had all of those things working in its favour. And yet none of these elements in isolation - or even put together - explain why people kept coming back… and very often bringing someone new with them.
To be honest, it took a lot of reflection on my part to figure this out. It was something intangible. And you only really noticed it once you stood back and watched the room.
Celebrating St. Patrick’s Day with American Ambassador Mike Malinowski all in green! His wife Karen, and USAID’s Andy Pryce also pictured.
I remember one evening when a group of around thirty guests arrived at the entrance without a booking. This bedraggled group of middle-aged tourists had come back early from their trek - a full day ahead of schedule as they were booked in the following night. It turned out these very nice people from the UK were so smitten by Michael Palin’s documentary about the Himalayas, they had all booked their adventure of a lifetime, and now they were here at our door.. feeling hungry and looking hopeful.
Always keen to welcome every guest, my team quickly conferred before going to see the group leader. He was a regular and we really appreciated his business. As I scanned the checks on the board in the kitchen, I knew we were full to capacity, so didn't hold out much hope that we could fit them in. I came to the door of the kitchen to hear how our restaurant manager Hari would handle it.
Instead of turning them away, I was more than a little proud when I heard him ask one simple question of that group leader: would you like to sit inside the dining room or outside on the terrace?
The group gratefully chose the terrace. Within just a few minutes, space was created, tables were moved, and the whole group was seated with drinks in their hands and a la Carte menus to browse. There was no fuss, no sense of inconvenience, just a quiet resolve to ensure our guests were made to feel truly welcome.
That was Kilroy’s. The place - thanks mostly to that great team - just had this knack for making people feel at home, and somehow it became all things to all people. That didn’t happen by accident.
There was another moment, in the earliest days of our operation, when I began to understand something more subtle. I was watching the waiter serve some tables and noticed how differently people behaved depending on their cultural background. If a team member was serving guests from Nepal, India and across the region, those guests would carry on chatting as the drinks were served. Essentially they ignored the interruption as if they weren’t there and let the service simply fold into the rhythm of the table.
However if that same team member served any of our Western guests, then invariably, those guests would pause, even mid-sentence. Conversation would stop out of courtesy and they would simply wait for the service of their drinks to finish. They would acknowledge the server - most of the time! - and then, once they were alone again, would carry on their conversation.
Hari Bagale was a lynchpin as my Restaurant Manager - he really embodied that welcoming culture we had at Kilroy’s
So I decided we needed to adjust how we served our guests and held a few training sessions to get that subtlety across.
With local guests, I got the team to continue in that more traditional, formal way - arriving at the table with drinks on a tray, placing each drink carefully, opening beer bottles at the table or adding ice cubes from a small ice bucket into the whisky glass. Serving and clearing from the right (~ as doing so from the left is considered an insult!), all the while moving with a certain formality.
With our expats and Western guests, we did the opposite. If two people ordered beers, then the bottles were opened at the bar, and together with two chilled glasses, delivered quickly - without a tray - and placed down on the table in one movement, before stepping away quickly so as not to break that flow of conversation. No interruption, no performance. On the whole, those guests appreciated the lack of ceremony so they could carry on their flow of thought. I don’t know about you, but I like to pour my own beer when I am travelling. And I found most of our guests were the same, especially our expat clientele.
I know it seems like a small thing, but it mattered. It showed we were paying attention. Not just to what we served, but to how people experienced the their occasion at Kilroy’s.
And that extended beyond the table.
On some nights, you could feel the the whole venue begin to connect. A quiet introduction here, a shared story there. Growing up in pubs as a small boy, I always had an awareness of who might enjoy meeting whom. I remember one occasion saying hello at a table and meeting a guest who had been on board ‘Flight 814’ that was hijacked after leaving Kathmandu a few months earlier. I could see he was desperate to share his story with me, but I needed to get back to the kitchen as it was a seriously busy service. As chance would have it, I had a way out in the politest possible way, so I asked him if he remembered one chap on board that flight who actually had a gun held to his head by the hijackers.
He said he did. I then said that same gentleman is sitting just a few feet away over in the bar right now and offered to introduce him. He couldn’t believe it. We went over and I made the introduction. The two men hugged, sat down together, and chatted over drinks late into the night as they relived their extraordinary experience with each other. Meanwhile, I got on with service from the vantage point of my kitchen.
That was Kilroy’s. From mountaineers to musicians, you just never knew who you were going to meet. And if you did meet someone new, you could be sure it was going to be someone interesting.
By the end of the night, the music got lower and tables got louder as laughter erupted. Conversations carried as drinks flowed. Some moved to the bar. Some gravitated towards the roaring fire for a lingering nightcap. People who had arrived alone were gently immersed in something shared.
Looking back, that was the real craft. Yes, the food had to be right. And the setting had to work. The music not too loud. And the service had to be consistent. But what people took away afterwards was something less tangible - the ease of it, the sense that their evening had unfolded naturally. A feeling that they had been properly looked after.
Kilroy’s was never just about what was on the menu. It was about understanding people well enough to know when to dial it up, and when to keep it low key. All in the name of creating that perfect experience for them to remember us by. And maybe recommend us to a friend.
As for me… it was a joy to watch my team getting that balance right, night after night. This was the magic ingredient that had people coming back for more. Now, the question for me is… can we create it again?
