At One World Cafe in Salt Lake City, Utah, diners are served a side of social justice along with the sandwiches, and a cup of goodwill with the coffee and tea.

First-time customers are often stunned by what they see—or rather, don't see—inside this cozy eatery and coffee shop known for its tasty, organic fare: no menus and no set prices for any of the food or beverages.

"You price your own meal—what you can afford, or whatever you think is fair," explains Denise Cerreta, who launched the business four years ago this month. "You leave your money in a little box that we've set out. Most people give what the going rate is. It's the honor system."

Americans spend 47.9 percent of their food budget on restaurants, according to the National Restaurant Association; the trade group predicts sales in the nation's 935,000 restaurants will top $537 billion this year.

 But a restaurant sans menus? Paying only what you think a meal is worth? It might seem the antithesis of culinary capitalism, but a handful of "pay-what-you-can" or "voluntary-pay" restaurants have begun cropping up in places like suburban Seattle and New York City. 

These eateries blend altruism and the pay-it-forward concept: Those patrons who can't afford to pay much leave only what they can, while those who can afford to give a little extra do so, which ideally covers the less fortunate.

 "We're living in an age where a lot of people are skipping meals or eating Ramen noodles to make ends meet, even though they're working," says Cerreta, a licensed acupuncturist who studied the healing arts in New Mexico. "My acupuncture practice was thriving, but I felt a nudge—I guess you could say it was spiritual, from the Universe—to close that business and open the cafe."

She later launched a companion foundation, One World Everybody Eats, whose mission includes serving food free of pesticides and antibiotics, supporting local organic farmers, and, on a larger scale, working to eradicate world hunger. There's also an emphasis on social responsibility, such as making sure that food-service workers (often paid the current federal minimum wage of $5.15 an hour) are paid a living wage. 

"I pay my team between $10 and $14 dollars an hour, plus meals," says Cerreta, who has seen her one-woman operation grow into a staff of twelve, including an executive chef. Along with fair-trade coffee, the cafe serves gourmet sandwiches, soups, side dishes, and desserts, all prepared using organic, seasonal produce. The fare includes vegan and vegetarian entrées.

The set-up is cafeteria style, with the staff serving customers to better determine portion size and help eliminate food waste (part of the overall mission). Seating is informal—patrons choose their own tables.

Cerreta also embraces a "hand-up, not a hand-out" philosophy. On any given day, a bevy of volunteers works alongside the staff, performing tasks that range from serving meals to weeding the garden (in which some of the cafe's food is grown). Cerreta gives volunteers a meal voucher for each hour they work. "They can use it for themselves or give it to someone else," Cerreta explains. "You don't know who's volunteering because they want to or need to, and we don't judge either way."

Still, to ensure that all who enter the cafe can eat, even if they can't leave a donation, there's a daily complimentary entree, often featuring a high-protein carb like red beans and rice. Children under 8 also eat for free.

"Our door's open to everyone," says the Ohio native, who moved to Utah in 1997. And although Cerreta says she's been asked whether the majority of her patrons are indigent or homeless, that's not the case. "We have judges, lawyers, doctors, single parents, students—every economic bracket. As a side effect, it's really about building communities."

Strengthening their community is what inspired husband-and-wife team Brad and Libby Birky to open SAME Cafe (the acronym stands for So All May Eat) in downtown Denver, Colorado.

The couple, both thirtysomething professionals and longtime community volunteers, often spent time at soup kitchens and homeless shelters. "We loved doing volunteer work, but some of the food wasn't of the highest quality; it was often out of cans," says Brad. "We thought, why not make food from scratch using fresh organic produce and make it available to all?"

Inspired by One World's business model (and with Cerreta's moral support), the pair opened their own pay-what-you-can cafe in October 2006. "We believe offering good, healthy food to everyone is important," says Libby, still working full-time as a private-school teacher. "And since organic food is normally out of the price range of many people, we wanted a place that could reach a broad base of people."

Brad took culinary courses and is now the cafe's chef, though he continues to do computer consulting part-time. He enjoys whipping up soups, salads, and creative dishes like Brie and cranberry pizza with organic semolina flour.

As at One World, the eatery utilizes volunteers (who receive food vouchers) and has begun establishing ties with local advocacy agencies geared toward women and children. They have also established a foundation and website to help other budding restaurateurs. So far, they say, the mix of good food and good vibrations has proven a recipe for success.

"We have fun, we eat good food, and we get to talk to great people," Brad says of his experiences at the cafe. "We serve our food at the counter, but we have seven tables in our dining room as well as the ability to do take-out." There's a box for donations, and the couple says that folks leave their fair share. (They count patrons daily and estimate average tabs between $7 and $9.)

"The response has been overwhelmingly good," says Libby. "We had some skeptics who said, ‘How is this gonna work?' But we are seeing from our success that it's doable." The couple says that although they are not yet drawing salaries (typical in start-up businesses), they've seen the number of customers increase each month.

Cerreta says that while she's occasionally had to admonish people who try to take advantage of the system, most patrons leave their fair share—and then some. But she admits that launching the cafe was tough in the beginning. Her car was repossessed, and she says there were days when her bank account dipped precipitously. And once she began making a profit, Cerreta says she still made common business mistakes: hiring more staff than was needed, for instance. Yet, the trials have strengthened both her business acumen and, she says, her belief in the innate goodness of people.

"My business has made solid profits for the last two years," she says, adding that in December 2006, she achieved nonprofit status for the cafe in order to pursue her broader anti-hunger mission. "I believe if you give people an opportunity to do the right thing, they do."

Would a pay-what-you-can restaurant work in a city like Baltimore or other parts of Maryland, where restaurant sales are expected to top $8.1 billion this year? At least one industry spokes-woman believes it could, given the right circumstances. "To our knowledge, we don't know of any local entrepreneurs who are pursuing this business model," says Licia Spinelli of the Columbia-based Restaurant Association of Maryland, which represents 3,000 members statewide. "It could have legs in the right community, one that would really support it."

Cerreta plans to head to the Big Apple in the fall to see if her pay-what-you-can concept will work there (similar efforts by other restaurateurs have not met with resounding success). She is presently seeking backers to open restaurants in other cities and believes the concept can work on a widespread basis. "I believe many communities would welcome this," she says. "This type of restaurant can work if only people expand their hearts."

—Donna M. Owens is an award-winning journalist who reports for print, broadcast, and Internet outlets nationwide. She lives in Baltimore.


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