We need to eat more dessert. Ozempic is crushing the hospitality industry
'We're definitely noticing an Ozempic effect,' the chef Stevie Parle told me recently. He was talking about planning the menu for Town, his new restaurant in Covent Garden. When it comes to desserts, in particular, restaurateurs can no longer rely on diners to gorge themselves on pud at the end of a meal. Unlike other prescribed substances, the new wonder drug turns its users into models of restraint. They drink less, eat less, gamble less. One glass, a couple of chips, just a coffee: we are becoming a world of disciplined dowagers.
It is good for the waistline and the health service. Recent reports suggested that Ozempic and its competitors could save the British economy £5bn a year. But it is a challenge to chefs and restaurateurs, for whom dessert has always been a reliable margin-booster. Combined with rising costs and weaker booze sales, it makes it harder than ever to scratch a living in hospitality.
We are only at the start of the Ozempic era. All the same, it has still been enough to force the once-mighty WeightWatchers into bankruptcy. They say this is a restructuring move and the future is still bright, and will include their own branded pills, but it is a sign of just how much the world will change. When these things are widely available in pill form, which is apparently imminent, the increase in uptake will be exponential.
Parle is getting around the issue by including a range of smaller puddings, which permit a few indulgent bites without being such a calorific investment. There are little cuboid canelés (they're called kashi on the menu), flavoured with whisky and tea, priced at £3. 'I like that,' he says. 'You might as well, order one, right? With coffee?' Or you can order a small chocolate tart for £6 instead of the full-size £12 version.
He is not alone. Restaurants around the country are coming up with similar solutions. After dinner at the Double Red Duke in the Cotswolds recently, I attempted to bat away the offer of pudding. (Before we get letters, I am not on Ozempic, I was just full.) How about a tiny cube of fudge, our waitress countered. Oh OK. Who could say no to a tiny bit of fudge? Their menu even has a separate section, 'something small & sweet', which at the time of writing features salted caramel chocolates and blackcurrant jellies, both at £4. Larger groups have had this approach for a while. The Brunning and Price pub group, which operates across the North West and north Wales, offers a selection of 'hot drink and mini puddings' with miniature versions of their classics. Vintage Inns does something similar.
Patissiers are thinking small, too. At Naya, in Mayfair, co-founder Cengizhan Ayan says their new smaller range, including miniature croissants and eclairs, has been instant bestsellers. 'People are more health-conscious,' he says. 'But it also helps with visual display – you can lay out 20 rather than 10. And it looks better aesthetically to have two little eclairs with your tea or champagne rather than one large croissant.' In pastry displays, as with weight-loss jabs, smallness is a potent advertising tool.
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