I've been thinking about something dangerous lately. The kind of thought that keeps you up at night, not because it scares you, but because it excites you. What if I did it again? What if I opened another catering company?
Now before you think I've lost my mind (jury's still out on that one), let me paint you a picture of why this feels both completely insane and weirdly perfect right now.
Here's what I know: the restaurant industry just pulled in massive numbers last year. People are eating out, ordering in, and celebrating more than ever. On paper, it looks like the golden age of food service. But here's the thing nobody wants to talk about at dinner parties: those same restaurants are keeping about 3% of every dollar they make. Three percent. You know what has better margins? A kid's lemonade stand in Kelowna during a heat wave.
Food costs jumped hard last year. Labour is eating up 35% of everything. And provinces across Canada are bumping minimum wage. Ontario just went to $17.20. BC hit $17.40. It's like trying to run a marathon while someone keeps adding weight to your backpack. So why would I even consider this? Why would I think about jumping back into catering?
Because catering is different. Always has been.
When you run a restaurant, you're committed to a location, a lease that could outlive your marriage, and overhead that never sleeps. Your lights are on whether you have five customers or fifty. Your rent is due if it's a blizzard in Winnipeg, pouring rain in Vancouver, or the apocalypse hits Toronto. Catering? Catering is agile. It's lean. You scale up when the work is there and scale down when it's not. No empty dining room mocking you on a Tuesday afternoon. No front-of-house staff standing around during a slow shift, still needing their hourly wage.
I keep coming back to this: in a world where margins are getting crushed, the businesses that survive will be the ones that can flex. Bend but don't break. Catering gives you that.
The landscape has shifted in ways that actually favour a smart catering operation. Let me break it down. People want experiences now, not just meals. The whole "build your own bowl" thing, the interactive stations, the global comfort food trend? That's catering's sweet spot. We've always been about creating moments, not just serving dinner. When someone books a caterer, they're buying an event, a memory. That has value that goes beyond the food cost.
Think about it. Someone calls you because they're celebrating something. A promotion, a wedding, a milestone birthday. They're not just hungry. They want to feel something. They want their guests to remember the night. That emotional premium exists in catering in a way it doesn't always exist in restaurants. People drop forty bucks on a restaurant meal and forget about it by Thursday. They drop four grand on catering and they're talking about it for years.
Sustainability isn't optional anymore either. Canadian provinces are cracking down on single-use plastics. BC banned plastic bags. Quebec is phasing out foam containers. Ontario is tightening regulations on takeout packaging. But you know what? A catering company can build this into their DNA from day one. No retrofitting. No changing established systems. You start clean with compostable packaging, reusable serving ware, and you make it part of your brand story instead of a compliance headache.
The rules are actually getting clearer too. Yeah, food safety regulations are intense. The cooling timelines, the glove requirements, the sick leave policies. But I've been in this business long enough to know something important: clear rules are easier to follow than vague guidelines. You know what you need to do, you build systems, you train your team right. It becomes muscle memory. That soup needs to go from 57°C to 21°C in two hours? Fine. Set the timer. Check the temp. Log it. Move on. It's not rocket science, it's just discipline.
If I were going to do this (and I'm not saying I am, but if I were), here's how it would look different from my first time around. Start with the menu I actually want to cook. Not what I think will sell. Not what's trendy. The food that makes me want to get up at 5am to prep. Because here's the truth: when you're deep in the weeds on a Saturday, parboiling your hundredth potato, you better love what you're making. That passion shows up on the plate, and clients can taste it.
One thing I'd do differently is not try to be everything to everyone. Have a lane. Stay in it. Get really, really good at what you do. That focus matters more now than ever because with these margins, you can't afford to waste time on menu items that don't pull their weight.
Build the team before you need them. The old model was hire-as-you-go. Find people when jobs come in. That's chaos. This time? I'd build a small core team of people who give a damn. Pay them well. Train them right. Then have a reliable roster of part-timers who we actually respect and who respect us back. Culture isn't something you tack on later. It's how you survive when things get weird. It's how you handle the Saturday when three events overlap and someone calls in sick and the walk-in cooler decides today's the day to die.
Price for reality, not for winning bids. This is where I messed up before. Racing to the bottom to beat competitors. You know what you win in a race to the bottom? The bottom. If I'm working with 3% margins before I even start, I need to charge what the work is actually worth. The clients who get it will pay. The ones who don't? They weren't my clients anyway. I've seen it happen too many times: someone undercuts you, wins the bid, then six months later that same client is calling back asking if you have availability. They hired the cheap option. It went poorly. Lesson learned.
Technology from day one. Inventory management. Scheduling. Client communications. Recipe costing. All of it digital, all of it tracked. The data tells you where you're making money and where you're bleeding out. You can't fix what you can't see. Back in the day I was running on spreadsheets and hope. Now? There's no excuse. The tools exist. Have you checked out App8 Rally Catering? They've built a system specifically for catering operations. Event management, staff scheduling, inventory tracking. All the stuff that used to take five different platforms and a prayer. Worth looking into if you're serious about running lean.
Look, I'm not naive. This would be hard. Really hard. The profit margins are brutal. The hours are worse. You'll spend a week planning a potato dish that guests eat in three minutes. You'll navigate allergen laws, packaging regulations, and cooling timelines that feel designed to break your spirit. You'll have mornings where you question every decision that led you to this moment. I've had those mornings. More than I can count.
But here's what I keep coming back to: the industry is changing whether we like it or not. The restaurants that survive won't be the biggest or the flashiest. They'll be the ones that adapted. The ones that found a way to deliver what people actually want (value, experience, inclusivity, sustainability) while still keeping the doors open. Catering lets you do that. It gives you room to breathe, to experiment, to fail small instead of failing catastrophically.
So what would I actually do this week if I owned a catering company right now? Not in six months. Not when I "get around to it." This week. Wednesday, January 14th, 2026.
First thing I'd do is audit every single piece of content I have online. Website copy, social media bios, Google Business listing. Does it sound like me or does it sound like every other caterer in town? "We provide quality food and exceptional service for your special event." Cool. So does everyone else. I'd rewrite it all to actually sound human. Tell stories. Show personality. Make people feel something before they even call. I'd rather lose half my traffic and connect deeply with the other half than be forgettable to everyone.
Next, I'd shoot video this weekend. Not fancy production. Just phone footage of the actual work. Prepping that potato dish. The organized chaos of loading the van. The moment when the first tray comes out and you can see it's going to be a good night. People don't want polished commercials anymore. They want to see the real thing. Post it everywhere. Instagram, TikTok, Facebook, LinkedIn. Different platforms, same authentic content. The corporate events team is on LinkedIn. The couple planning their wedding is on Instagram. Be where they are.
I'd also reach out to five local businesses this week. Not with a sales pitch. With an offer to bring lunch for their team. Free. Just let us show you what we do. Maybe it's a new tech startup that's growing fast. Maybe it's a law firm that orders in every week anyway. Maybe it's a non-profit that never gets nice things. Feed them once, blow their minds, and suddenly you're top of mind for their next event. Cost me maybe two hundred bucks in food. Could lead to twenty thousand in bookings.
Then I'd get serious about partnerships. Who already has my ideal clients? Wedding planners. Corporate event coordinators. Venue managers. Real estate agents who throw client appreciation events. I'd take three of them for coffee this week. Not to ask for referrals. Just to understand what they're dealing with, what their clients ask for, what frustrates them about other caterers. Be the solution they didn't know they needed. When App8 Rally Catering talks about streamlining operations, this is part of it. Make it so easy to work with you that people can't help but refer you.
I'd claim every single online review platform if I haven't already. Google, Yelp, WeddingWire, whatever matters in my market. Then I'd ask my five best past clients to leave reviews this week. Not "whenever you get around to it." This week. Send them a direct link. Make it stupid easy. Those reviews are pure gold. Someone searching "catering Calgary wedding" sees five-star reviews with real stories? That's your marketing team working 24/7.
Email list. If I don't have one, I'm starting one today. If I do have one, I'm actually using it. Send something valuable this week. Not "book us for your event." Send a guide. "5 Things Nobody Tells You About Catering Your Corporate Event." "How to Feed 100 People Without Losing Your Mind." Give value first. Build trust. The sales come later.
I'd also look at my pricing structure and make sure I'm not leaving money on the table. What add-ons could I offer? Premium bar packages. Specialty dessert stations. Sustainable packaging upgrades. Late-night snack service. Each one is another revenue stream, another way to increase the average ticket without working more events. At 3% margins, I need every advantage I can get.
Finally, I'd block off time every week for this stuff. Not "I'll do marketing when I'm slow." There is no slow in catering. You're either swamped or you're dying. Wednesday mornings. Two hours. Non-negotiable. That's when the marketing happens. The outreach. The content. The strategy. Treat it like prep work, because that's what it is. You're prepping your pipeline.
There's something else too. Something I didn't appreciate enough the first time around. When you cater an event, you're there for someone's important day. You're part of the fabric of their memory. That couple's wedding? They're still sending photos every anniversary. That startup's launch party? They just expanded nationally. You were there at the beginning. That matters. That means something.
The question isn't whether the opportunity exists. The opportunity absolutely exists. People are spending more on food experiences than ever before. They want global comfort food, interactive stations, allergen-friendly options, sustainable packaging. They want the whole package. Someone's going to give it to them.
The real question is simpler and harder: Do I want to do the work? Because it is work. Unglamorous, exhausting, potato-parboiling work. But it's also the kind of work that, when done right, feeds people in more ways than one. It creates jobs. It marks milestones. It brings people together over food, which is basically the oldest form of community we've got.
Maybe that's enough. Maybe it's always been enough.
I guess we'll see what Wednesday brings. Maybe I'm just nostalgic. Maybe I'm remembering the good parts and forgetting the nightmare moments. Or maybe, just maybe, the timing is actually right. Maybe the market is ready for someone who understands that 3% margins mean you better be exceptional at everything you do. Maybe there's room for a catering company that gets it, that respects the craft, that knows a potato dish takes a week to perfect even if it disappears in minutes.
Either way, it's going to be an interesting year. I can feel it.
Canada's Restaurant Guy writes about the realities of food service from somewhere in the Great White North, usually while eating something he didn't have to cook himself.
This article is brought to you by App8 Rally Catering - purpose-built software for catering operations.
