Great names create an aura and have you salivating before you've even unfolded your napkin – but coming up with the right one isn't a straightforward task
When I was a teenager, there was a pub that held a special romance for us. Positioned on the edge of the Pennines and close to a reservoir, it was everything that a pub should be: uneven stone floors, timber beams, hidden nooks, a roaring fire and signs telling walkers to take their muddy boots off before entering. But it also had a cracking name: The Strawbury Duck, which greatly added to its allure.
Pubs, of course, have wonderful names, such as the Drunken Duck in Ambleside, or the Cat & Custard Pot in Kent. Many restaurants, however, don't come so well billed, which is a shame because great names create an aura and have you salivating before you have even unfolded your napkin. I've never eaten in the Rum Kitchen in Notting Hill but I know I would just for the name. Ditto the Jam Tree in Clapham and the Vanilla Pod in Marlow. The Fat Duck is brilliant, of course – simple, sensual with a hint of unashamed gluttony: the perfect foil to the high-concept wizardry that goes on within.
Small wonder then that coming up with a name should be an agonising process – and if there was any doubt about its importance, this recent spat should have put paid to that.
"Marketing is all about telling a story," says Mark McCafferty at Captivate Hospitality. "And names are the same. Often you have a gut feeling, but you have to know your target customer." And while food fashions come and go – witness the glut of "Ronseal ad"-type names (Honest Burgers, Dirty Burgers, the aptly named Greedy Cow) – a good name, he says, "stands the test of time, and works in different locations".
Then there's the "subliminals". William Poundstone famously decoded the psychology of The Wolseley, but restaurant names have yet to be so deconstructed. Experimental psychologist Charles Spence says that, in the future, larger chains may start to use "sound symbolism" – "the idea that we can convey to potential diners information that food will be low in price, say, by using lots of 'i' sounds, or that it will be light rather than heavy cuisine, by including voiceless rather than voiced consonants. Alliteration also helps – Costa Coffee: Many successful brands have the K sound, so using that sound may break through 'noise' to get better consumer recognition."
Neuromarketer Roger Dooley adds that sensory names may also be more memorable – made more potent by the theory that many of us are sensory-deprived. This makes sense to me – surely the best names have you drooling at the mouth? "It should tantalise and intrigue," muses Simon Mullins, co-founder of the Salt Yard Group. "It should be memorable and specific to what you do, but also sensuous. It should build a sense of anticipation."
Can a good name make a restaurant? "Absolutely, says McCafferty. "Look at Brick Lane in London – filled with restaurants, but not one stands out. A really good name would beat the competition."
"Jamie Oliver's Fifteen is a rubbish name for a restaurant," he continues. "If it wasn't for Oliver's reputation, it wouldn't have been successful". Then there's anything pun-based. My editor shudders at Flesh & Buns, while A Salt & Battery does nothing for me, with its seeming celebration of casual violence. (McCafferty flags this up as great jokey name for the trend of no-reservation, yoof-pulling, street-food joints.) For more amusing atrocities look at Guy Swillingham's book Shop Horror – Pizza the Action, The Cod Father – while the web throws up some far-flung examples that are lost in translation. And seriously, does anyone want to sip their lattes in the Ken Livingstone Coffee Shop?
