Audio By Carbonatix
Earlier this fall, Jimmy Contreras posted a scroll-stopper to his Instagram account for his popular Oak Cliff restaurant, Taco Y Vino. “So, we had an influencer quote us $4,000 to do a post for the restaurant,” he says in the reel, perched atop a patio table in a pair of shades. “I was like, we’re just going to do it for free ourselves.”
He proceeds to mug for the camera, flashing a toothy grin and doing his best impression of a social media influencer. We gotta admit, it was adorable, and very possibly a comedy bit (if you know Jimmy, you get it).
But then, what seemed like a silly stunt started popping up again and again. We clocked posts like these from Nalu Vida and JL Patisserie, calling out “blackmail” tactics and exorbitant pricing from self-styled food influencers. And then — while minding our own business, just reading some spicy food smut — this nugget jumped off the page of the current bestseller, Tart: Misadventures of an Anonymous Chef: “(…) the bad overpriced menus and tacky aesthetics … the influencer shams and the industry gossip,” listed the famously anonymous author Slutty Cheff, referring to the sources of “secret venom” running through the veins of restaurant workers.
OK, so maybe Contreras wasn’t joking? Perhaps he had more to say? We scheduled a chat.
“It’s a post, literally one post on their Instagram,” he detailed specifically of the influencer’s offer in exchange for $4,000. “We all get hit up, and it’s so weird because we’re like, what the [expletive]? Like, coming out of these past two months, like we pray to break even, you know?”
Contreras declined to name the influencer who reached out with the pitch, but he did share that very little justification for the cost was provided. “It was just followers and engagement rate,” he says. To clarify, no additional data, metrics, or case studies were provided. “It’s crazy the amount that they asked for, and they’re asking for it because they can get it. Some people are paying it out.”
Basic industry knowledge (or common sense) might nudge a prospective partner to rethink how a restaurant in this difficult landscape, offering three-for-$14 tacos and $5 wine specials, could justify such a cost. Times are tight; just who is paying? Allowing for the benefit of the doubt, we reached out to several additional local restaurants for a temp check on influencers. Let’s just say it’s getting pretty hot in some Dallas kitchens.
A Right Fit
Starting on a positive note, Nikky Phinyawatana, chef and founder of Asian Mint, reports beneficial experiences working with influencers throughout her 20-plus years at the helm of her growing brand of eateries, cookbooks and products. “I actually enjoy collaborating with influencers, because when it’s the right fit, it feels authentic and fun,” she says. “I love when someone genuinely shares our passion for food, and we’ve built wonderful friendships with influencers who really believe in what we do.”
“About 90% of our partnerships are based on mutual appreciation rather than payment,” Phinyawatana continues, expanding on what she’s paid in the past. And about finding that “right fit” she mentioned? “Influencers can be wonderful partners when it comes from a place of authenticity. Restaurants thrive on storytelling, and influencers who genuinely love food help us tell those stories in ways that connect with people. At the same time, restaurants should feel empowered to ask for metrics, examples, and results, just like any other marketing investment.”
Finding Community
“There are moments where magic can be made in collaboration,” says Sarah Carlock, founder of Amor Y Queso, who has also successfully partnered with influencers — with a couple of key asterisks. First of all, that “magic?” She doesn’t pay for it, as a rule. “I have never paid for partnerships. I usually just do trades. A lot of times you don’t see any immediate return on these types of collaborations, but with the right partnerships, you can find community.”
Local connections are the key to Carlock, who specializes in artisanal cheese boards through a storefront in Deep Ellum, event catering, and private orders. As such, finding the right “fit” pops up again.
“To be totally transparent, not every influencer who approaches is a good fit. There are lots of factors, like social equity, tone and brand compatibility,” she says. “The community that can be built and the depth of networking is how I measure the success of working with influencers.”
Also falling into this middle, unmonetized category is Racene Mendoza Nguyen, owner of Reverie Bakeshop. She, too, serves a specific community with her vegan pastries and desserts, and she reports positive experiences with influencers, if not dollars earned. That goes for both sides of the equation.
“Most of the time, we are approached by an influencer offering to feature us in a post or story in exchange for a free product. It is more for the community than for profit,” says Mendoza. “We haven’t seen any notable influence on sales from the interactions.”
Fired Up
Now, on to the heat. Sauvage, the new “woodfire omakase” concept from chefs Casey and Amy La Rue opened in September next door to the Statler Hotel in downtown Dallas. The duo also owns La Rue Doughnut in Trinity Groves, and rose to acclaim through the now-closed Carte Blanche on Greenville Avenue. Chef Casey LaRue is known for his outspoken personality.
“We’re approached, emailed and DM’d constantly,” says LaRue of the unsolicited outreach he fields from influencers on the regular. “It’s every time I log on to Instagram, but I usually don’t respond.” He has occasionally used influencers over the years and praises the ability of some to create “great content” that can be reposted to a restaurant’s own channels. He only comps food, however, and has “never paid.” Why?
“So, 90% of the influencers are fake. If you look at their follower counts as it relates to comments and likes, it never adds up,” he says. “Our La Rue Doughnut account doesn’t have a lot of followers, but regularly gets over 500 likes on posts. Influencers with 50,000-plus followers will get half that. This likely means they bought follower packs.”
La Rue refers to bundles of fake followers that are available to purchase in “packs,” inflating the perceived reach of an influencer’s social media account. He cautions, “If you think you’re going to get booked out by one of these people, it’s unlikely.”
Bitch, Please
So, who is paying, anyway? We got several more negative earfuls, but also several requests to stay “off the record.” The truth is, though followers may be fake, many restaurants fear real-life backlash from vindictive influencers (just ask JL Patisserie). There are good guys out there, though, and one of them is really quite a “bitch.”
One of Dallas’s original restaurant influencers, Foodbitch has been dishing up local recommendations “with a heaping spoonful of snark” since 2008.
“My motivation to get folks to support local and dine outside their typical comfort zones hasn’t changed,” she says, of her mission over time. “I choose to work with restaurants I’d visit on my own anyway, and use a sliding scale for paid partnerships. Local mom-and-pop spots pay less than a bigger brand with a big marketing budget.”
Foodbitch reports that she charges between $200-$500 for a local content collaboration (representing more than a 50% discount on her typical pricing for brands). Her marketing background informs the media kit that she provides to potential partners beforehand, detailing what they can expect when working with her. Each partnership varies, but she says her packages typically include “a shoot, reel creation, collaboration, and supporting stories to provide a call-to-action.”
“Brands pay for ads, and working with content creators is no different,” she continues. Despite the lower cost for smaller local clients, she approaches each job with the same commitment: “I am professional, respectful, responsible, not wasteful and I try to make something unique that resonates with my audience.” Foodbitch also always discloses her sponsored content, as seen in her recent post on the new Lake Highlands spot, Rising Tides.
A Lot to Digest
The takeaway? In this age of influence, like in most matters of business, the onus is on the person with the purse strings to ensure they’re getting what they’re paying for.
As Foodbitch says, “Social is a living, breathing medium that changes much faster than any other means of marketing. What works today might work for no reason, or if there is a reason, that reason might change completely by tomorrow.” For potential partners, she recommends, “The quality of content and the conversion rate are what a restaurant should look for in a potential partnership with a content creator.”
Jimmy Contreras, meanwhile, may consider partnering with an influencer in the future, but this time around, the numbers just didn’t add up. He chose to spend a portion of the proposed price tag to support a different kind of content creator instead. The decision will provide lasting benefit at the new, second location of Taco Y Vino in Garland. “I’m putting a mural up in my restaurant for a third of the price,” he says. “And, to me, that’s way more valuable than 15 minutes of fame.”
