When Chanita Chayaluk set out to open her restaurant and wine bar, Taan, in Chicago, her vision was clear and uncompromising: she wanted to showcase Thai food in a different light. Reflecting on the local culinary landscape, she noted that the first major wave of Thai immigration to Chicago occurred in the 1970s, leaving a lasting impression that often makes a significant portion of the city’s available Thai food feel frozen in time. When Taan officially opened its doors in September, its menu broke away from those nostalgic expectations, offering dishes like miang—a traditional Northern Thai dish made with fermented tea leaves—and a whole, deep-fried fish coated in a rich fish-sauce caramel.
Yet, alongside the excitement of introducing bold, contemporary flavors to the city, Chayaluk quickly encountered an unexpected hurdle tied to local dining culture. Operating in Chicago meant confronting what she describes as the pervasive spirit of "Midwest nice." In those early days of service, Chayaluk and her small team found themselves navigating a steady stream of requests for substitutions and custom accommodations driven by individual preferences and dietary restrictions.
The impact on daily operations was immediate and severe. According to Chayaluk, constantly altering dishes to appease individual whims slowed down service speeds, creating a bottleneck that affected not just the kitchen’s workflow, but the overall guest experience. With a compact kitchen and a modest staff, keeping up with the endless stream of tweaks felt unsustainable. It reached a tipping point when a customer ordered green curry mussels, but asked for the dish "without the mussels." It felt to Chayaluk less like running a thoughtful restaurant and more like operating a fast-casual assembly line.
In response, Chayaluk took a decisive stand by implementing a strict, limited substitution policy at Taan. She took to Instagram to explain the rationale to the public, emphasizing that foundational ingredients such as fish sauce and shrimp paste form the very fabric that defines their cuisine and, therefore, could not be removed from any dish that includes them.
Taan is far from alone in facing this challenge. Across the country, independent restaurant operators are reporting a massive surge in substitution culture. A decade or so ago, asking for heavy menu modifications was generally frowned upon and widely derided as bad dining etiquette. Recently, however, restaurateurs report that substitution requests have bubbled back up to the surface in full force, driven by a complex swirl of cultural and economic factors.
For one, the proliferation of fast-casual lunch spots and build-your-own slop bowl concepts has primed modern consumers to expect a granular level of customization with every single order. At the same time, the widespread cultural influence of hospitality doctrines like Unreasonable Hospitality has further intensified an unconditional "customer is always right" mentality among diners. Compounding this is the modern landscape of social media and food-influencer culture, where restaurants choosing to enforce boundaries or decline specific dietary preferences can instantly become targets for viral online criticism. Couple all of these social pressures with the brutal economic reality that keeping a restaurant afloat in the current climate is harder than ever, and many operators simply feel forced to give in—either by honoring endless modifications or by altering their menus entirely, a trend reflected in what some observers have dubbed the great de-spicification of restaurant menus.
Despite the mounting pressure to conform, a growing cohort of culinary establishments is choosing to stand its ground. Alongside Taan in Chicago, venues like New York’s Ha’s Snack Bar—which proudly announces in its Instagram bio that everything on the menu contains fish sauce—are doubling down on their culinary integrity.
A similar battle lines have been drawn in Phoenix, Arizona, at Lom Wong, where chef and co-owner Alex Martin and chef Yotaka "Sunny" Martin have watched substitution and modification requests multiply following a wave of national attention. Last year, Chef Sunny Martin was recognized by the James Beard Awards, and in August, the restaurant was honored with a Michelin Bib Gourmand.
According to Alex Martin, the influx of critical acclaim brought a new demographic of diners who were unfamiliar with the restaurant’s ethos. Guests began picking dishes apart, asking for modifications or expressing confusion over the restaurant’s service style, particularly because Lom Wong does not course its menu items in a traditional European fashion.
Alex Martin points out that there remains a persistent European distinction of what an award-winning restaurant is supposed to look like, leading some diners to mistakenly equate Michelin and James Beard recognition with a formal, white-tablecloth dining experience. Lom Wong’s response, however, was uncompromising: that is simply not who they have ever been, nor what the restaurant will ever become.
Following the model set by places like Taan, Lom Wong turned to social media to clearly set expectations before guests even walked through the door. They announced publicly that the restaurant would not make substitutions simply to make a dish more familiar to Western palates, and that certain characteristics—such as beef containing gristle or fish being served whole—are fully intentional choices rooted in culinary tradition.
Alex Martin credits Chef Sunny Martin as their guiding light of cultural context, noting that she continually assesses whether changing any element of a dish would ultimately compromise its core integrity. While Lom Wong does offer small flexibilities—such as allowing the mango salad to be ordered with shrimp on the side—they firmly refuse to remove beef or shrimp paste from dishes where those ingredients are necessary to the recipe.
A similar philosophy governs daily operations at Taan. Chayaluk ensures that the menu always features a dedicated vegan and gluten-free option—currently a fried rice dish—which acts as a reliable catchall for guests who cannot consume other items on the menu. Importantly, Chayaluk is careful to ensure that this accommodation is treated with the same respect as the rest of the menu. She notes that the dish is crafted to be substantial and genuinely delicious, ensuring it functions as a primary offering rather than an afterthought or a hollow appetizer.
At both Taan and Lom Wong, front-of-house and back-of-house staff are actively encouraged to uphold these operational boundaries. Both Chayaluk and Martin emphasize that these policies are designed just as much to protect their team’s peace of mind as they are to ensure strict quality control for diners.
While enforcing these limits has inevitably drawn some minor backlash, setting clear expectations at the outset of the meal—supported by preemptive messaging on social media—has largely been met with understanding and respect from the dining public. As Alex Martin explains, their approach to explaining the policy involves kindly reminding guests that while the restaurant respects their personal preferences, those preferences ultimately belong to the individual diner, guiding them instead toward existing menu items that naturally align with their needs.
