An essay by Rob Urban
What do you
recommend?
The question that travels everywhere. Twelve languages, a lifetime of conversations, and the difference between finding the best thing and finding the right thing for you.
おすすめは何ですか？
¿Qué me recomienda?
Cosa mi consiglia?
O que você recomenda?
Was empfehlen Sie?
Different words. A familiar invitation.
You can spend forty minutes researching a restaurant, compare the photographs, read the menu, study the reviews, and arrive with the confidence of a man who has conducted a federal investigation.
Then the server walks over and says, “Get the grouper.”
The investigation is closed.
You did not need another photograph of the grouper. You needed somebody who had seen it leave the kitchen three hundred times and knew whether people looked happy afterward.
There is an enormous amount of information in the world, and a remarkable portion of our day is still spent asking somebody else what they think we should do.
What should I order?
Where should we go?
Who would you hire?
Is that thing worth the money?
What do you recommend?
Over the years, my consulting, writing, and friendships have put me in conversations with people from Japan, Spain, Italy, Brazil, the United Kingdom, Germany, and plenty of other places. They have asked me about businesses, hotels, food, movies, and decisions that did not fit neatly into any category.
Different accents. Different backgrounds. Different definitions of a reasonable dinner hour.
Some version of the same question keeps coming back.
What do you recommend?
I started thinking more closely about this after a Japanese phrase appeared in the search data for my website: “1番のおすすめは.” Roughly, it asks about the top recommendation. It was a fragment, without enough surrounding context to tell me what the searcher wanted.
I could see the words. I could not see the person, their situation, or the conversation that might have preceded them.
Maybe they were choosing a product. Maybe they were planning a visit. Maybe a tool generated the search. One appearance in a report is not a biography.
But the question stayed with me.
Because underneath those unfamiliar characters was something very familiar: help me choose.
The question you can carry into almost any room
In Japanese, “おすすめは何ですか？” is a way to ask, “What do you recommend?”
When a Spanish-speaking friend asks, “¿Qué me recomienda?” the English meaning is “What do you recommend?”
In French, “Qu’est-ce que vous me conseillez ?” means “What do you advise me?” or, naturally in this setting, “What do you recommend?”
These are useful expressions, but what interests me is the little social transaction inside them.
You have arrived somewhere. Somebody else knows the place better. You are asking to borrow a small amount of their experience.
A menu tells you what is available. A recommendation tells you where to begin.
That matters when the menu is unfamiliar. It also matters when the menu is twenty-two pages long and includes sushi, fajitas, lasagna, and a section called Captain’s Favorites.
I have questions about the captain.
The same exchange can happen in a bookstore, a hardware store, a museum, or beside a hotel reception desk. The setting changes. So does the price of being wrong.
A disappointing appetizer is one thing. A disappointing contractor has your house open to the weather.
Still, the basic request is recognizable: you have seen more of this than I have. Tell me what deserves my attention.
The wording varies by language, region, relationship, and politeness. No single phrase covers every speaker or every situation. But you do not need a theory about an entire culture to recognize what two people are doing when one asks the other for a suggestion.
For a moment, choosing becomes a shared activity.
“Best” sounds precise until you try to answer it
“What is the best hotel?” sounds like a question with an answer.
Then someone asks whether you are traveling with children.
Now there are several answers, and one of them has a waterslide.
The best hotel for a honeymoon might be a terrible hotel for a family reunion. The quiet courtyard you adored becomes the place where Uncle Gary asks why nobody has turned on the television.
“Best” leaves out the person who has to live with the answer.
The best knife for a chef may be the wrong knife for somebody who occasionally attacks a watermelon. The best camera for a professional photographer may spend its entire life in somebody else’s closet because carrying it feels like accepting a second job.
And the best restaurant in town may be completely wrong tonight if you are tired, wearing flip-flops, and accompanied by a child who has decided that food must be beige.
A German speaker can ask, “Was empfehlen Sie?” meaning “What do you recommend?” An Italian speaker can ask, “Cosa mi consiglia?” meaning “What do you recommend?” or “What do you advise me?”
Those questions give the other person room to think. They invite an answer that might begin with another question.
How much do you want to spend?
What have you already tried?
Do you want somewhere lively or somewhere you can hear each other?
That last one should be printed on the outside of every restaurant.
The distinction between “best” and “recommended” is small in ordinary speech and enormous in practice. A recommendation can accommodate a person. A ranking usually has to accommodate a list.
A good recommendation often begins with listening
When people ask me what to do in Florida, I have to find out which Florida they want.
One wants roller coasters, late nights, and a vacation busy enough to require a vacation afterward.
The other wants birds, water, shade, and fewer people asking whether they are having fun.
Both can have a wonderful trip. Sending them to the same place because it has the most reviews is not much of a favor.
A Brazilian Portuguese speaker might ask, “O que você recomenda?” meaning “What do you recommend?” In European Portuguese, “O que recomenda?” asks “What do you recommend?” too, with different wording.
Put either question beside a Florida map and the useful answer still depends on the traveler.
Are they visiting in summer? Can they walk comfortably? Do they have a car? Is their idea of adventure a canoe, a roller coaster, or finding parking without a family argument?
Recommendations improve when somebody notices these details.
“You would like this” is a more demanding statement than “I liked this.”
The first requires some understanding of the other person. The second requires only a memory.
We confuse them all the time.
A friend recommends a book because it changed their life. You get seventy pages in and discover that their life was ready to be changed by a lengthy discussion of medieval taxation.
They were sincere. You were hopeful. Nobody was paying attention to the match.
The restaurant question that gets you a better answer
There is a difference between asking what is popular and asking what somebody would order.
Popularity can tell you what sells. Personal preference can tell you what a knowledgeable person enjoys when they have a choice.
Neither is automatically the better answer. Sometimes the popular thing is popular because it is excellent. Sometimes it is popular because it arrives on fire.
Fire gets attention. This is true of desserts and houses.
In Turkish, “Ne tavsiye edersiniz?” means “What do you recommend?” In Greek, “Τι προτείνετε;” means “What do you suggest?” or “What do you recommend?”
Imagine asking either question at a restaurant and then adding, in whatever language you share, “What would you choose if you were eating here tonight?”
You may get the same answer. You may also get a completely different one.
The most useful moment is often the explanation that follows.
This is made here.
That takes longer, but it is worth waiting for.
The fish is particularly good today.
If you prefer something less rich, choose this instead.
Now you have information attached to judgment. You can decide whether the reason matters to you.
“Everybody gets it” may persuade one person and concern another.
“It takes forty minutes” may sound like a promise or a threat, depending on what happened before lunch.
The answer gets better when the question gets closer to your actual evening.
You can learn about a town by asking what its people recommend
A town introduces itself one way through its official descriptions and another way through the places people send their friends.
The official version has a slogan.
The personal version has directions involving a gas station that changed names in 1998.
Both contain information. One is often easier to put on a brochure.
Ask somebody what they recommend and you may hear about a small museum, a particular bakery, a walk beside the water, or a restaurant where the owner remembers their mother.
Those answers reveal more than inventory. They reveal attachment. That is part of what interests me about cultural landmarks and places: a place can matter for reasons its listing barely mentions.
Why this place? Why that person? What happened there that made it worth passing along?
A recommendation can carry a little piece of local history without announcing that it is doing so.
In Dutch, “Wat raadt u aan?” means “What do you recommend?” In Swedish, “Vad rekommenderar du?” means “What do you recommend?” as well.
A Dutch-speaking visitor and a Swedish-speaking visitor could ask those questions in the same American town and receive different suggestions because they asked different people.
That is part of the pleasure.
The woman at the bookstore may send you toward an author. The man working on a boat may send you toward the water. Somebody who has lived there for forty years may tell you what used to be there before answering what is there now.
If you are patient, the vanished place may be the better story.
You were looking for somewhere to spend an afternoon. You found somebody’s afternoon from thirty years ago.
A language does not come with a forwarding address
It is easy to imagine a Japanese-language search coming from Japan, a Spanish-language search coming from Spain or Latin America, and a French-language search coming from France.
But the language alone does not tell you where the person is.
A Japanese speaker can be looking for dinner in Orlando. A Spanish-speaking parent can be choosing an attraction for a family that has lived in Florida for years. A French-speaking traveler can be planning next month’s trip from a different continent.
They can ask the question from a hotel room, their kitchen, an airport, or a passenger seat while somebody else misses the exit.
The interstate does not care which language you use to express disappointment.
This is one reason I find multilingual questions interesting. The language is a clue to how somebody communicates, not a complete explanation of who they are.
In Mandarin Chinese, “你推荐哪个？” asks, roughly, “Which one do you recommend?”
That “which one” belongs beside actual options. Two restaurants. Three hotels. A shelf of products. A choice that has already narrowed enough to point at.
In Korean, “어떤 것을 추천하나요?” means “What do you recommend?”
The speakers could be on opposite sides of the world. They could also be standing beside each other in the same store, looking at the same expensive object and hoping somebody can explain why it costs that much.
The shared problem may be closer than the different scripts make it look.
Buying a tool is sometimes buying a future version of yourself
Product recommendations are especially revealing because people rarely ask only about the product.
Sometimes they ask about an ambition.
Will this help me make better things?
Will this make the task easier?
Am I buying something I will use, or something I like imagining myself using?
That last question has caused considerable trouble in garages.
A sophisticated tool can be exactly right for somebody who understands its purpose. The same question runs through my work on luxury goods and experiences: what creates value for this particular person? It can also be an expensive monument to a Saturday that never happened.
“Which one do you recommend?” should sometimes lead to “What are you actually trying to do?”
Not what you might do if you suddenly developed twelve new skills and a second building.
What are you trying to do next weekend?
A useful product recommendation can be modest. Buy the simpler model. Borrow one first. Keep what you have. Spend the money on the part that solves the problem.
In Arabic, “بم تنصحني؟” asks, roughly, “What do you advise me?”
That is a fitting question for a purchase because advice can include deciding against it.
The person who tells you not to buy something has made their next recommendation more interesting.
They have demonstrated that the answer can survive without a sale.
A hotel recommendation is a conversation about how somebody wants to live for a few days
Hotels are a good example of why I need more than a destination before I recommend anything.
Some people use a hotel as a place to sleep. Others choose it as the reason to travel.
Some want a room above the street, close enough to hear the city waking up. Others want enough distance from the city that waking up becomes optional.
One traveler loves an old building with character. Another sees the same building and wonders whether the plumbing also has character.
They are both asking sensible questions.
When someone from another country asks me about an American hotel, there can be an extra layer of uncertainty. Familiar words do not necessarily describe a familiar experience. What does “resort” mean here? What is nearby? How far is “close”? What costs extra? Can you actually walk to the restaurant, or is the website measuring distance as a bird with excellent judgment?
Those questions deserve answers before I start talking about marble.
I want to know what the traveler wants to remember. The room? The people? The meals? The neighborhood? The quiet? The feeling of being looked after without having to organize every minute?
Luxury complicates this because it is easy to describe what a property owns and harder to describe what a guest feels. That is the question behind Hotels With Soul: what makes a stay worth remembering beyond the specifications?
A chandelier is easy to photograph. The relief of arriving somewhere and realizing somebody has thought through the next three things you need is harder to show.
For one person, good service means being recognized. For another, it means being left alone until they ask.
Neither preference belongs exclusively to a nationality. They can belong to the same person on different trips.
The executive who wants constant coordination during a business visit may want nobody to coordinate anything during a weekend away. Even excellent service can become exhausting if it keeps requiring a response.
“What hotel do you recommend?” can therefore mean, “Where will I feel comfortable?” It can mean, “Where can I take my family without managing a crisis?” It can mean, “Where will my client feel I chose carefully?”
The answer changes with the responsibility.
An Italian-language question about a stay, “Cosa mi consiglia?” (“What do you recommend?”), needs more than a beautiful coastline for an answer. In Porto Cervo and Costa Smeralda, I want the conversation to get into the arrangement behind the visit: what the guest expects, what has been confirmed, and who will carry it through.
A French-language “Qu’est-ce que vous me conseillez ?” (“What do you recommend?”) can lead to equally practical questions about the French Riviera. A stay built around an event and a stay built around slowing down may share a destination without needing the same advice.
Food is where hospitality, preference, and uncertainty sit at the same table
Food recommendations can sound delightfully simple until you are responsible for choosing dinner for several people.
You have someone who wants to try everything, someone who wants something familiar, someone with an allergy, and someone who says they are easy but has rejected six restaurants.
That last person is always easy in theory.
When friends from different countries ask me where to eat, I do not want to reduce the answer to “American food.” That is a very large container. In Florida alone, a meal can take you into Southern traditions, Cuban influences, coastal seafood, a neighborhood bakery, or a kitchen whose owner brought a family recipe from somewhere else.
The more useful question is what kind of encounter they want. In a place like Orlando, a visitor can spend a week inside the famous version of the city and still miss much of the life around it.
Do they want a meal they could not easily find at home? A comfortable place to catch up? Something connected to the town? A celebration? A quick lunch that will not consume the whole afternoon?
There is also a difference between recommending food and recommending a restaurant.
The dish can be excellent while the room is wrong for the occasion. A loud, crowded place may be wonderful with friends and miserable when you are trying to have a difficult conversation.
“The food is good” is only part of the answer.
So is timing. A restaurant recommendation is unusually perishable. The cook changes. The menu changes. Your memory gets older while continuing to speak with great confidence.
I want to separate a recent experience from an old affection. “I loved it when I went” is honest. “It is still the best” requires more knowledge.
And when I recommend something unfamiliar, I want to explain what is unfamiliar about it. Rich, spicy, smoky, sweet, messy, slow, communal, formal. Give people enough to decide whether the adventure sounds enjoyable.
You can encourage curiosity without treating somebody’s dinner as a character test.
Ordering the familiar thing does not make a person less sophisticated. Sometimes they have spent the entire day being adventurous and would like a potato.
Business recommendations put money and reputation behind the question
In consulting, “What do you recommend?” can arrive after a long explanation or before the person has explained anything at all.
Should we expand?
Should we hire?
Should we enter that market?
Should we change the website, the offer, the pricing, the positioning, or the way we find customers?
Those questions can sound like requests for an opinion. Often they are requests to help carry the consequences of a decision.
An international conversation adds practical questions that do not disappear because everyone speaks English. Where are the customers? Which market are we discussing? What does the budget cover? Who has authority to approve the work? What is the expected pace? What does a successful result look like to each person involved?
Even an ordinary word such as “soon” can deserve a follow-up question.
My work is to get past agreement that only exists because nobody has defined anything yet.
There is a particular kind of meeting where everyone nods, everyone is pleasant, and everyone leaves with a different project.
It is an expensive form of harmony.
I have to understand what the person is asking before I can decide what I recommend. The right answer might be a new direction. It might be a smaller test. It might be fixing something basic before paying for something impressive.
It might also be admitting that the decision depends on information we do not have.
An advisor does not become more useful by removing uncertainty from the sentence while leaving it in the situation.
When somebody asks me who I recommend for work, I am also thinking about the introduction itself. Will these people communicate well? Is the project suited to the professional’s strengths? Have I seen enough to put my name behind the suggestion?
International networks make introductions possible. They do not make every introduction appropriate. My markets grew out of relationships, work, and experience. A place matters to me because there are people and decisions behind its name.
Knowing a person and knowing their work are related, but separate, things. I can like somebody very much and still need to learn more before recommending them for a particular responsibility.
Culture changes the conversation without predicting the person
My international friendships make this subject more interesting, but they also make me suspicious of tidy explanations about what everybody from a country wants.
Japan is not one personality. Neither is Brazil. Germany does not come with a single purchasing preference. My friends from the United Kingdom have not appointed one person to determine what they all find funny.
Culture matters. So do profession, age, family, travel experience, personal taste, and what happened to somebody this morning.
Sometimes the cultural difference is in how directly a question is asked. Sometimes it is in what needs to be explained. Sometimes it is simply in the background knowledge we assumed we shared.
A person may know a city from films, family stories, business trips, or no prior experience at all. Those starting points lead to different questions.
Someone familiar with American travel may already know which practical details to ask about. A first-time visitor may not know there is a detail to ask about until it becomes inconvenient.
The useful response is attentive rather than theatrical. I do not need to demonstrate how much I know about their country. I need to understand what they are trying to do here.
There are also little differences within the language itself. The Spanish “¿Qué me recomienda?” addresses someone politely; “¿Qué me recomiendas?” is a familiar form. The German “Was empfehlen Sie?” is different in register from “Was empfiehlst du?”
English makes distinctions too. “What would you suggest?” can sound different from “What’s your pick?” or “Where would you take a friend?” My United Kingdom work has given me plenty of reasons to pay attention to the gap between sharing a language and sharing an interpretation.
The relationship is part of the sentence.
Translation can help us exchange the words. Attention helps us understand the request.
And attention includes being willing to be corrected. If a friend tells me I have misunderstood what they like, that is useful information, not a failure of the friendship.
The goal is to get them somewhere they will enjoy. There are no points for defending my first suggestion.
Some recommendations carry identity with them
A recommendation is not always an attempt to find the most efficient solution.
Sometimes we recommend something because we want somebody to understand us.
A favorite film. A childhood food. A place connected to our family. A writer who seems to describe something we have never explained properly.
“You should try this” can mean, “This is part of where I come from.”
That changes how I want to receive the recommendation.
I may not love the food. I may not respond to the movie. But I can recognize that the person is offering more than a consumer suggestion.
They are opening a small door.
International friendships offer plenty of these doors. So do friendships between people who grew up ten miles apart with completely different households.
The distance on the map is not always the size of the difference.
When someone shares a place or a piece of work that matters to them, a useful follow-up is, “What do you love about it?”
Now I can hear the attachment. I can see what I might otherwise miss.
That explanation may become the most memorable part of the recommendation, even if the recommendation never becomes my favorite.
You do not have to share someone’s taste to appreciate being let into it.
The recommendation tells you something about the recommender
Ask five people to recommend a book and you may learn almost as much about the five people as you do about the books.
One wants to make you laugh. Another wants to make you think. Another recommends the hardest book they have ever finished, possibly because they want a witness.
Someone else asks what you enjoy reading.
I would pay attention to that person.
Recommendations have fingerprints. They reflect taste, experience, values, practical knowledge, and occasionally a strong need to make everybody watch the same television show.
You know who you trust for restaurants. You may trust a completely different person for contractors. The friend with wonderful taste in music may have automotive opinions that could place you beside the highway.
Expertise has boundaries. Friendship does not erase them.
This is why the reason behind a recommendation matters so much.
“I have used it for five years” is different from “I saw it yesterday.”
“I worked with her on a difficult project” is different from “Her website looks professional.”
“You would love the quiet” is different from “It photographs beautifully.”
None of those statements automatically settles the choice. They tell you what the person knows and what they noticed.
Sometimes that is enough to know how much weight to give their answer.
“Who do you recommend?” carries more responsibility
Recommending a sandwich and recommending a person are different commitments.
A sandwich can disappoint you without remembering your address.
People enter your home, your business, your finances, and your family’s circumstances. The question becomes more consequential when somebody asks whom to hire, whom to trust, or whom to call when something has gone wrong.
If I recommend a person, I want to be able to explain why.
What have I seen them do? How did they handle a problem? What kind of work suits them? Would I trust them with this particular situation?
Good people can be wrong for a job. Excellent professionals can be wrong for a client. “She is wonderful” may be true and still leave the important question unanswered.
Wonderful at what?
For whom?
Under what conditions?
It is generous to share a name. It is more useful to share enough context for somebody to evaluate the introduction.
And sometimes the responsible answer is, “I do not know anyone well enough to recommend.”
That answer lacks sparkle. It has other virtues.
Why an explanation can be more valuable than a score
A score compresses a judgment. An explanation lets you inspect it.
A hotel might receive a lower rating because the room was small. If you plan to spend the whole day outside, that may matter very little.
Another guest might love the nightlife. If you are hoping to sleep, their enthusiasm is useful evidence in the opposite direction.
You can agree with someone’s observations and disagree with their conclusion.
That is one of the freedoms an actual explanation gives you.
The useful recommendation describes what makes the place or product distinctive and who might appreciate it. It also admits the inconvenience.
The parking is awkward.
The tool is heavy.
The restaurant is loud.
The museum is small, but give it time.
These details help you picture an experience rather than borrow someone else’s score.
A glowing recommendation with no particulars leaves you very little to work with. An honest description with a few drawbacks can be much more persuasive.
Especially if one of the drawbacks is something you like.
“There is nothing to do after nine” will ruin one person’s vacation and sell another person the room.
The internet can answer the words and still miss the question
When you type “best hotel,” you may mean convenient, beautiful, quiet, affordable, memorable, accessible, or close enough that you will not spend your vacation driving.
The two words do not reveal which one.
When you type “what do you recommend,” the missing context can be even larger.
A person standing beside you can see the menu in your hand. A search engine needs more clues. A conversational tool may have earlier messages, but it still needs to understand which details matter.
This is why I would rather read an answer that explains its assumptions than one that confidently declares a winner.
Best for a first visit.
Best if you want to spend the afternoon slowly.
Worth considering if craftsmanship matters more to you than convenience.
Those descriptions give the recommendation a shape.
They also make room for a different answer when the person changes.
A question in Japanese does not become useful merely because an English page repeats it. The page has to offer something the reader can understand and use.
And a question in English does not become well answered merely because the answer contains the word “best” seventeen times.
At some point, somebody has to do the thinking.
Curiosity improves both sides of the conversation
The person making a recommendation has some work to do. So does the person asking.
Tell them a little about what you enjoy. Explain what would make the choice difficult. Mention the budget before they recommend a vacation requiring the sale of livestock.
Ask why they chose it.
Ask what they would suggest instead if your circumstances were different.
And leave a little room to be surprised.
If you ask a local for a recommendation but reject everything that is unfamiliar, you have asked for permission to do what you already planned.
There are times when that is exactly what we want. We should at least recognize it.
The more interesting question is often, “What am I overlooking?”
A small museum can be worth an afternoon. An unfashionable product can do its job beautifully. A person you have never heard of can make work that stays with you longer than something famous.
None of those discoveries is guaranteed. Curiosity occasionally gets you a bad lunch.
But certainty has its own costs. One of them is returning home with exactly the experiences you brought with you.
When the recommendation becomes part of the memory
There is something pleasant about remembering how you found a place.
A friend sent you.
A stranger pointed it out.
Somebody said, “If you have an hour, go look at this.”
The introduction becomes part of the experience. You remember the person along with the meal, the book, the object, or the afternoon.
Sometimes you return to thank them. Sometimes you become the person who tells somebody else.
That is how a recommendation travels beyond its first conversation.
The words change. The circumstances change. The next person may ask in Spanish, Japanese, Greek, Korean, Arabic, or English. They may want the same thing for entirely different reasons.
And somewhere in the answer is the possibility of a small, useful kindness: somebody knows something that could make another person’s day better, and takes the trouble to share it.
I find that more interesting than the idea that there must be one best thing for everybody.
There are good choices for particular people. There are surprising choices you would never have found alone. There are experienced people willing to tell you what they have learned, including what to avoid.
The Japanese fragment in my search report did not tell me who was asking or what they needed.
But I recognized the invitation.
What do you recommend?
Tell me what I should notice.
Tell me why you think I might like it.
And if the answer is the grouper, tell me before I read twenty-two pages.
A few useful answers
Before you ask somebody what they recommend
What is the difference between “the best” and “what do you recommend”?
“The best” asks for a winner. “What do you recommend?” invites somebody to make a judgment for a particular person. Both can be useful, but a recommendation becomes more useful when the person answering understands your budget, preferences, circumstances, and reasons for asking.
How do I ask for a better recommendation?
Give the person something to work with. Explain what you want, what you have already liked, what you want to avoid, and any practical limits. Then ask why their suggestion fits. “Where should I eat?” becomes a much better conversation when you add that you want a quiet dinner, enjoy seafood, and have an hour.
Do recommendation questions mean the same thing in every culture?
Similar questions can do similar work across languages, but their tone and meaning depend on the relationship, setting, region, and wording. A casual question between friends and a formal request to a professional are different conversations. One phrase cannot stand in for an entire culture.
What should I consider before recommending a person or business?
Be clear about what you know firsthand, what you have only heard, and whether you have a commercial relationship. Explain the kind of work or situation you believe they suit. Recommending somebody puts your judgment into another person’s decision, so the reasons and limits matter as much as the name.
Can I translate a recommendation question word for word?
Sometimes, but a literal translation can miss the natural wording or level of formality. Start with the situation: are you asking a friend, a server, a hotel employee, or a business contact? Choose wording that suits that relationship, and use the English translations here as guides to meaning rather than a promise of identical nuance.