There's a restaurant near my house called Mesquite. It's about as inconsistent as a restaurant can get. My favorite dish, the steamy black bean soup, is NEVER the same. Sometimes it's black, other times it's red, sometimes it comes with a couple pieces of steak floating inside, other times with a tortilla chip. The fact that I never really know which black bean soup I'm getting is kinda irrelevant because no matter how it comes out, it's delicious and mouth-melting.
Now I'm sure that Mesquite could put together some kind of standardized recipe and service manual to ensure the same thing every time around, but then they'd be like all the other restaurants. Their inconsistency is part of their charm. The element of the unknown, of the (dare I say it) Surprise, keeps me coming back.
Consistency is not all that it's cracked up to be. Surprise, in its purest sense, depends on deviation from the norm.