Transcriber: Singrid A. Queiroga Reviewer: Sheri Friedman
I believe that noodles can change the world.
Seven years ago,
I was working at what was once my dream job
as Alumni Director of my alma mater, Berea College.
You've heard about Berea a little bit today -
an extraordinary liberal arts college, 30 miles north of here,
that provides a full-tuition scholarship
for every student.
I was charged with fostering relations with 17,000 alumni worldwide,
and I was drawn to that work because I believed in Berea's mission.
I believed in educational access;
I believed in leveling the playing field.
I took great pride in knowing that I played some small part
in helping to empower and uplift the next generation.
But something happened about nine years into that work.
I found myself doing more and more tasks
that had little or nothing to do with the college's mission.
I was planning events;
I was planning reunions;
I was spending most of my time asking people for money to do my work.
There was a particularly defining moment
when I got to attend the graduation services
for the graduating class of 2012.
And peace activist Parker Palmer challenged the graduating class
to go out into the world and find your place
where your deep gladness meets the world's deep needs.
I quit my job the next day.
(Laughter)
Coincidentally, I was also turning 40 that year,
and everybody thought I was going through a midlife crisis.
But I assure you, I wasn't.
It just suddenly became painfully clear to me
that I had 25 work years left,
and it was up to me to figure out how I was going to spend it.
I would spend the next four years
as the Executive Director of a regional rape crisis center
that covered 17 counties in Central Kentucky.
I had a $1.1 million budget.
And during my time, we shook things up.
For the first time ever,
we invited survivors to be part of the conversation:
to serve on our board, to be on our staff,
to volunteer with us.
We also worked with local police departments
to allow our Victim's Advocates to accompany survivors
during police interrogations.
And rather than wait for people to show up at our door,
we took our work to the streets.
We met survivors in rural libraries
and Mexican grocery stores and African-American churches.
It would appear that, perhaps, I had found that place
where my deep gladness met the world's deep needs.
But four years into that work,
I was at that same exact familiar place again.
I found myself planning fundraisers and charity balls,
many of which had ticket prices that were too high
for the people I was serving to even attend,
and I was spending 80% of my time fundraising
and asking people for money to do my work.
There was a pivotal moment
when a very well-meaning, lovely restaurant in Lexington
offered to partner with the rape crisis center,
and they wanted to donate a portion of their proceeds
on this one, slowest day of the year,
to the rape crisis center.
So my husband, Adam, our then 8-year-old son and I,
we drove that one hour drive from our home in Berea,
and we had a wonderful meal.
And the next day,
I walked away with a check for $62.50.
My budget was $1.1 million.
I knew right there and then that there had to be a better way,
that nonprofits should be able to focus on building and strengthening communities,
and small businesses should be garnering their social capital
and their networks to have significant impacts
on the communities that house them.
About that same time -
remember, I was turning 40 that year -
I was also celebrating a 20th college reunion,
and I hosted 30 of my best friends over at my house.
My Thai mom, who lives with us, decided to fix one of our childhood -
my childhood -
family favorites for my friends.
It's Mom's Curry Noodles,
the top seller at our restaurant right now.
It's slow-braised beef in yellow curry over rice noodles
with fresh bean sprouts, soft-boiled eggs,
grilled tofu, and chopped peanuts.
Now, I had friends from all over in that group.
They were from Houston, Texas, and Frankfort, Kentucky,
and Raleigh, North Carolina, and New York City,
and right here from Corbin.
And there were a couple of guys in that group
that were self-proclaimed meat-and-potatoes kind of guys,
the kind of guys that would go to restaurants
and order chicken fingers and French fries, you know.
I kid you not when I tell you this,
that every single one of those 30 bowls were slurped clean,
and I knew that I was onto something.
The next year, I quit my job at the rape crisis center,
and so did my husband, Adam,
who had spent 16 years working in the IT industry.
For some reason, we felt uniquely qualified,
with our vast experiences in mindfulness training
and Microsoft certifications, to open up a business
with one of the highest failure rates and the lowest profit margins.
(Laughter)
We opened a restaurant - a noodle shop, to be exact -
and we called it Noodle Nirvana.
We opened it on Main Street, America,
or, rather, Chestnut Street, Berea, Kentucky.
And we had a very simple mission:
to create epic noodle bowls and change the world.
Similar to Chipotle or Subway,
rather than building a burrito or a sandwich,
Noodle Nirvana customers build noodle bowls
modeled after street vendors in Thailand,
where broths are slow-simmered all day
and noodle bowls are assembled right in front of customers.
Customers at Noodle Nirvana go through three easy steps.
Step 1: Choose a noodle.
Step 2: Choose a broth or sauce.
Step 3: Choose a protein: beef, chicken, or tofu.
And then we garnish the bowl with fresh vegetables.
And when in season,
we get those vegetables from our local farmers.
And when we can,
we source our food from Kentucky Proud food providers.
And we intentionally built long, family-style tables
so that travelers can dine alongside locals
and so that college professors can sit next to the farmers
that grew their zucchini.
And we start all of our staff, from dishwashers to line cooks,
at $10 an hour,
and we give them set days off, with set schedules,
so that they can lead full and abundant lives outside of work.
And at the very core of what we do is the notion
that we belong to each other.
In fact, those words are inscribed permanently
on the wall as you enter our restaurant
to serve as a daily reminder of why we do what we do.
And we breathe those words into action every day
by partnering with one nonprofit
and donating 20% of our first Tuesday proceeds
to that nonprofit for 12 months,
along with all of our tips for 365 days.
The first year, we partnered with a nonprofit called
the New Opportunity School for Women
that helps Appalachian women overcome barriers to education,
employment, and financial independence.
Along with our customers and our staff,
we raised $30,000 for the New Opportunity School.
(Applause) (Cheers)
The second year,
we partnered with our local food bank's Backpack Program
when they don't have access to school cafeterias.
The second year, we raised $44,000.
(Applause) (Cheers)
And this year, we're partnering with Hope's Wings'
domestic violence program,
which is a 16-bed residential facility that provides emergency shelter
and programs for victims of domestic violence.
In the first six months of our partnership,
we've already raised over $20,000 for Hope's Wings.
(Applause) (Cheers)
You know, when we first started this dream,
it was just going to be me and my mom and her curried noodles,
and we were maybe going to have a part-time person.
And my original business plan projected that if we were lucky,
we would sell 30 noodle bowls a day.
Two and a half years later, we have 13 staff,
and we sell anywhere between 700 to 1,000 noodle bowls a week.
And last year, despite giving away over $40,000 to charitable causes,
and despite paying our staff $2.75 more an hour
than most restaurants in our region,
we are right in line with industry standards
when it comes to food costs and occupancy costs,
and we're actually doing better with our profits
than most restaurants - fast-casual restaurants -
in our industry.
Now, we are a little bit higher when it comes to payroll costs,
but we knew that going in, and we're okay with that.
Our staff are the most valuable ambassadors of our mission.
A third have been with us from Day 1.
A third have been with us for one to two years.
Since we opened in 2016, two and a half years ago,
we've made $1.2 million in sales,
and our sales are increasing at the average monthly rate of 15%.
We're also in conversations with three different groups
who are interested in franchising our business model.
(Applause) (Cheers)
Noodles can change the world.
Imagine if every small business in your community
partnered with one nonprofit.
And imagine that they did that every year
and just took turns taking care of each other,
taking care of your community's most pressing needs,
as if they belong to each other.
Imagine colleges being able to focus on educating students
rather than building endowments,
and rape crisis centers being able to focus on eradicating sexual violence
rather than throwing charity balls.
I believe that this is not only possible, but a necessary paradigm shift
for all of us.
If we truly belong to each other
and our communities are all experiencing human suffering
like poverty and homelessness and hunger,
we cannot place the sole responsibility for addressing these issues
on nonprofits alone.
If small businesses truly are the backbone of America,
we need to start investing in the people and the communities
who are investing in us.
Thank you.
(Applause) (Cheers)