From Keith Rabois to Matt Miller, a lot of VCs have switched firms or spun out of storied VC institutions this year. These employment changes are surprising because unlike in many other fields, venture capitalists donβt traditionally move around very much β especially those who reach the partner or general partner level. VC funds have [β¦]
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The first Juniper fund is $10.6 million and is oversubscribed.
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Saratta Chuengsatiansup for BI
The 1988 buddy-comedy action flick "Midnight Run" had an unexpected impact on the restaurant industry. While the romp about a bounty hunter transporting an accountant across the country didn't make a box-office splash, one line stuck around.
"A restaurant is a very tricky investment," the accountant, played by Charles Grodin, tells the bounty hunter, played by Robert DeNiro. DeNiro's character dreams of opening a coffee shop with his big score, but the accountant shuts him down: "More than half of them go under within the six months."
The idea that restaurants are a bad investment predates the film, but the quote lodged in people's minds. Over the past 20 years as a cook, restaurant critic, and food writer, I've heard Grodin's risk assessment quoted repeatedly, almost verbatim. But if restaurants really are a lousy investment, then why would private-equity firms be dumping billions into the sector? Data from PitchBook found that private-equity investments into fast-casual restaurants grew from $7.7 million in 2013 to $231 million in 2023 β a nearly 3,000% increase.
In 2024 alone, Blackstone purchased 1,400 Tropical Smoothie Cafes and a majority stake in Jersey Mike's β deals that gave the chains multi-billion-dollar valuations. Sycamore Partners also bought 250 Playa Bowls locations. Before its IPO in 2023, the Mediterranean eatery Cava raised nearly $750 million from private investors. Meanwhile, SoftBank Vision Fund has pumped hundreds of millions of dollars into restaurant tech over the past decade.
All that cash has led to a boom in places like Chipotle, Shake Shake, and Sweetgreen. Between 2009 and 2018, the number of fast-casual restaurants in America doubled, while sales have nearly tripled. Meanwhile, the amount of money Americans spend eating out has jumped by nearly 60% since 2009. That doesn't exactly sound like a lousy investment.
The trouble is that private equity has a knack for destroying businesses. Red Lobster declared bankruptcy earlier this year after 10 years under private-equity management, Toys "R" Us famously shut down following a private-equity takeover, and even hospitals have struggled after private equity got involved. The cash infusion to wannabe chains and franchises has also made it harder for independently funded restaurants to compete for customers, real estate, and staff. When the gravy train stops, fast-casual restaurants are going to be in trouble.
To understand why private equity is pouring money into restaurants, we have to start with the appeal of the fast-casual model. In some ways, it's the golden mean of restaurants. You can charge twice as much for a meal at a fast-casual spot as you can at a fast-food joint. In Manhattan, a Burger King cheeseburger costs $3.40, whereas a Shake Shack burger will run you $7.79. But when you look at the overhead costs, there isn't much difference. Both restaurants staff a similar number of people and rely on similar ingredients. Chipotle may offer a burrito, a bowl, a quesadilla, and a salad, but it's all more or less the same ingredients: beans, corn, salsa, cheese, and basic proteins. The limited menu enables both fast-food and fast-casual restaurants to be efficient, keep costs down, and avoid losses from food waste and labor. And since fast-casual spots appear to be the nicer restaurants β with gourmet ingredients like brioche buns, healthy-sounding options, and claims of sustainable sourcing β they can charge more. If price and speed aren't priorities, many people would prefer to grab lunch at a Chipotle than at a Taco Bell.
The model also has an edge over sit-down restaurants, which have struggled in recent years. "Casual dining proper is not doing so well," Alex M. Susskind, a professor of food and beverage management at Cornell University, says. "Fast casual has provided consumers with a better meal experience that's equal to, or in some instances better than, a casual-dining restaurant, with less of a time and financial commitment."
The food is just as good, but the service is much faster. He says that's helped make the model a better investment than a place like Applebee's. Thanks in part to those higher profit margins, one restaurant analyst said it takes 18 months for a Chipotle to pay back buildout costs, compared to five years for a Cheesecake Factory.
That's what's making the investments in these businesses attractive. Because a lot of the weaker players have been weeded out.
"PE is investing money in the fast-casual market because the economics of a fast-casual concept is much better than any other type of restaurant concept," says Chris Macksey, the CEO of Prix Fixe Accounting, which specializes in hospitality. "Profit margins are anywhere from 10% to 15% as opposed to a full-service restaurant, which is 5% to 8%. Fast casual is just a far more scalable concept."
Scalability is really the brass ring. Investors in fast-casuals aren't buying restaurants; they're buying the potential growth of restaurant brands. Susskind says the boom reminds him of the late 1990s when casual-dining brands like Applebee's, TGI Fridays, and Olive Garden were taking off. He sees the recent shutdown of some of those chains β such as TGI Fridays, Red Lobster, and Smokey Bones β as a market correction for their overexpansion.
"That's what's making the investments in these businesses attractive. Because a lot of the weaker players have been weeded out," Susskind says about fast-casual restaurants. The frenzy has also been encouraged by the successful IPOs of companies like Sweetgreen in 2021 and Cava in 2023. Seeing Cava's stock grow by nearly 250% since its IPO has left investors searching for similar success.
While Sweetgreens and Dave's Hot Chickens are popping up across the country, independent restaurateurs are often left scrambling β not even for a piece of the pie, but for the crumbs.
Tracy Goh is the chef and owner of Damaran Sara, a two-year-old Malaysian restaurant in San Francisco, home of some of the most expensive commercial real estate in America. She's experienced landlords' preferences for fast-casual chains over small businesses like hers. "Especially for me, because it's my first restaurant. I don't have data to convince them that I can stay on a lease as long as they are likely to," Goh says. "They have a preference for the franchises or the big names."
A landlord's job is to generate money from their property. Their business isn't about enriching their community; it's about finding the most reliable tenants who can pay the most rent. In the restaurant real-estate space, that often means fast-food and fast-casual brands backed by major investment firms.
When small-time restaurants get left out of the real-estate market, diners are left with a food scene that increasingly looks and tastes the same.
"If you're Chipotle or Shake Shack, you may decide to take a lease above market. You can afford it because you're privately funded," says Talia Berman, a partner at the hospitality advisory firm Friend of Chef and an expert in New York's restaurant real-estate market. "You beat out the competition because you don't care how much money you make in that space because it wasn't meant to be profitable based on the unit economics. It's part of a larger strategy."
That strategy is all about growth, she says. The primary goal of investment-backed restaurants is to expand quickly. "They're typically barreling toward an exit. So they're looking to get purchased by Nabisco or Darden or Levy or one of these huge restaurant conglomerates. And they need to show distribution β that they're operating in many states and that they have high top line," Berman says, referring to high sales volume.
A location that can gross $2 or $3 million in a year can demonstrate to a potential buyer that the eatery is successful β even if a high rent lowers the average unit profit margin. "They're thinking short term. It's a private equity mentality," says Berman.
Investment-backed restaurants also have a timing advantage over smaller shops. When a developer begins work on a new building that might lease space to a restaurant β a strip mall, food hall, or multipurpose apartment complex for instance β it's usually working on a multiyear timeline. Moshe Batalion, the vice president of national leasing for RioCan, one of Canada's largest real-estate-investment trusts, told me the firm starts thinking about who to lease to before it even breaks ground on a new property. Leases might be signed years before the space is even ready for move-in. Independent restaurateurs typically can't plan for a restaurant that won't open for two to three years.
"For independent operators, the real disadvantage is access of capital," Susskind says. "If they have access to a decent level of capital, they can grow, open more units." For chains, that's easy to do. But, he adds, "if I'm an independent, I don't know where I'm going to get $500,000 to ink a deal and build a restaurant."
When small-time restaurants get left out of the real-estate market, diners are left with a food scene that increasingly looks and tastes the same.
Thomas Crosby, the CEO of Pal's Sudden Service, a Tennessee-based chain of 31 burger shops, is all too familiar with the downsides of private equity. It's why he has eschewed outside investment. Millions of private-equity dollars might help triple the number of Pal's locations in five years β but could the chain continue to train and retest staff to remember that the perfect french fry is 3.7 inches long?
"As soon as you start taking investments or go public, you confuse your mission," Crosby says. "It becomes, what metrics can I do to wow stockholders instead of wow customers? And I think that's how so many companies get sideways. It's kind of like cars: You drive down the interstate, and you cannot hardly tell one brand from another. It becomes so homogenous." He adds: "That's what happens in the restaurant industry."
Chasing the success of another restaurant chain means everyone just tries to copy everyone else. "To please the stockholders or investors, they've got to be all things to all people," he says. By maintaining control over his operations, Crosby says, "We don't owe people money. We don't lease land. We have zero debt."
Since the early 2000s, private-equity firms started taking on a bigger role in the companies they'd invested in; these firms didn't just expect returns down the line, they began telling companies how to achieve those goals. This was good for innovation and safety, but bad for job creation and wages, with "sizable reductions in earnings per worker in the first two years post buyout," professors from Harvard and the University of Chicago's Booth School of Business wrote in a 2014 research paper.
As soon as you start taking investments or go public, you confuse your mission.
In the long run, private equity often leaves companies worse off. In 2019, researchers found that public companies that are bought out by private-equity firms are 10 times as likely to go bankrupt as those that aren't β a finding that complicates the argument that companies like Toys "R" Us closed simply because of market forces. Similar to the casual-dining boom before it, Susskind, the Cornell professor, believes that the investment boom in the fast-casual sector will eventually lead to a bust.
Already, the graveyard of private-equity-backed restaurants is growing. BurgerFi, which has 93 locations and 51 pizza subsidiaries, primarily in Florida, received $80 million in investments just a few years ago. But despite last year's plan to update the chain's stores, menus, and technology, the investment has largely transformed into debt. The company defaulted on $51 million in credit obligations this year, and in September, it filed for bankruptcy.
Between 2015 and 2019, Mod Pizza received a total of $334 million in private-equity investments, which enabled the brand to grow to 512 locations across Western states, with over 12,000 employees. In 2019, the firm boasted of being "the fastest-growing restaurant chain in the United States for the past four years," with a plan to hit 1,000 locations in five years. The rapid expansion outpaced realistic sales growth, and earlier this year, the company closed over 40 locations.
Similarly, Rubio's Fresh Mexican Grill, founded in 1983 in California, was acquired by Mill Road Capital in 2010 for $91 million. The new ownership updated the name (to Rubio's Coastal Grill), the interior design, and the menu. Renovations at each location cost about $200,000. The chain ended up declaring bankruptcy twice: once in 2020 and again earlier this year. Though the company attributed the first filing to pandemic lockdowns, it was already struggling to maintain its growth and stay in the green prior to 2020. When it closed more restaurants earlier this year, some employees found they were unable to cash their final paychecks.
Even some of the most visible success stories of investment-based growth haven't borne fruit. Sweetgreen, "the Starbucks of salad" that was heavily backed by venture capital before its IPO, grew from one location in 2007 to 227 this year, with plans to open another 30 a year β though the company still hasn't seen a profitable year. The chain lost over $26 million last year.
At some point, the market taps out and there isn't room for more growth. Americans are already spending 42% more money on dining out than they are on groceries.
Berman says that the high volatility creates opportunities. For one, when a cash-rich restaurant bails on a retail location, it becomes available as a turnkey space, complete with HVAC, grease traps, and floor drains. Berman's company recently made a deal for a popular food brand to build out a research kitchen. It's designed to be an experiment, but they signed a 10-year lease. "Believe me, this place is not going to be around in three years, I promise you," she says. That leaves the door open for other entrepreneurs to take over.
In other words, don't get too attached to the Sweetgreen down the street. It may take longer than six months for private-equity-backed restaurants to go under, but there's a good chance your new fave won't be around in a few years.
Corey Mintz is a food reporter focusing on the intersection between food, economics, and labor. He is also the author of "The Next Supper: The End Of Restaurants As We Knew Them, And What Comes After."
Courtesy of Stephen Wu
This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Stephen Wu, a 29-year-old hedge fund manager from New York. It's been edited for length and clarity.
If you ask Alexa to play Taylor Swift, my team built the system that recommends similar songs to listen to afterward.
I studied computer science and philosophy at Carnegie Mellon during college and always thought I would work in engineering. I applied to work at Amazon during my senior fall semester in college and started at Amazon Alexa right after graduating. I was hired as a software engineer in Seattle, creating and building the music recommendation system and overseeing a team of three engineers.
It was a good mix of my passion for music and engineering, but eventually, I left Amazon for Microsoft and then left tech toΒ start a hedge fundΒ with about 80 investors.
I raised almost $10 million from friends, family, high-net-worth individuals, influencers, and others in the hedge fund space that first year. I still love engineering, but hedge funds make money, so they're much more fun.
Working at Amazon, I learned that its ethos differs from other tech companies.
Google and Meta are more engineering-focused. Microsoft aims to build the best tool for the customer, even if it takes extra time. Amazon, on the other hand, seeks to make things fast.
Instead of building it right the first time, Amazon allowed me to create the minimum viable product usable to meet the deadline. While working there, I learned a lot about prioritization and efficiency.
Still, after about three years, I wanted to explore new roles. A Microsoft recruiter reached out to me via LinkedIn. I took the call and was intrigued by their offer of an engineering-heavy business role. I would work directly with engineers to build and plan the machine translation system used by Microsoft Azure.
I liked the opportunity to combine my strengths in engineering and business for this role, so I accepted it in 2020.
I loved working at Microsoft and worked there for about three years. In my free time, I dabbled in hedge funds, which are any fund using a non-traditional investment style.
One crucial learning takeaway that helped me in my future endeavors was technical debt β if you build something too quickly and take shortcuts, you may spend twice the time just fixing the bugs.
I can tell if a product wasn't built right or if it might incur additional unforeseen costs that other hedge fund managers may not know about. Also, because I built statistical models and AI algorithms recommending songs to users at Amazon Alexa Music, I understand the statistical behavior of price movements. This allows me to take a more data-driven, probabilistic approach to trading, while most fund managers focus on financials.
I specifically invest in options trading after volatile events. I always loved it, but I never thought I could do it full-time.
Along the way, I discovered a very lucrative strategy for trading in a specific niche in the options market. I did this for fun with my portfolio through 2020 and 2022. It was during the pandemic in 2022 that I realized that NASDAQ was down 33%. That year, I proved my strategy in a bear market and felt confident enough to pursue this as a serious career.
For years, my friends and family asked to invest with me, and I was finally comfortable trading with their money. I left Microsoft in April 2023 to work on the hedge fund full-time. I worked extremely hard during my first year of fundraising and trading simultaneously and was very stressed.
Fundraising was difficult initially, but I allowed investors to try with a small amount first and see the returns for themselves. The minimum amount to invest is $100,000.
Since our trades are weekly, I allowed them to withdraw any week if the performance was poor. This was highly unusual and risky for hedge funds because they could withdraw any week, and my fund would die. However, I was confident I could perform. After several months of good performance, many of my investors doubled or tripled their investments.
And now, more folks continue to invest through word-of-mouth.
I aim to grow this to a $100 to $200 million fund in the next few years. It's just me, so it's a lot of work, although I have part-time analysts helping. Once reaching $100 million, I can hire more analysts and expand the strategy.
I love trading. It's fascinating because it's like solving a puzzle every single day. As an engineer, I was making a solid six figures a year. It depends on how much profit I generate this year, but if my fund is $15 million and I achieve the 30% yearly profit target, I'll make $1.2 million.
I enjoyed solving complex engineering challenges, but trading offers a more dynamic, fast-paced environment and I plan to do this for the rest of my life.
If you left Big Tech for another industry and would like to tell your story, please email Manseen Logan at [email protected].
President-elect Donald Trump made no secret during his campaigning that he doesnβt think the U.S. should take an aggressive stance on climate change. From leading chants of βdrill, baby, drillβ to frequently criticizing everything from wind turbines to electric vehicles, he appears poised to cast a shadow over the climate tech sector for the next [β¦]
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