painters, all of whom would work simultaneously on bigger projects. Jonah had to admit that the economics were good: The bigger jobs supplied steady paychecks, in case Jonahâs cash flow lagged in a given week, and with luck and good calendar management, those jobs wouldnât get in the way of progress at Huertas.
Nick had been around restaurants long enough to know that equitymight not be worth anything for years, but a more immediate reward came with the handshake: He insisted on the right to design the space, to use it as a showcase for his notions of how a restaurant ought to look. He had to support Jonahâs concept on a practical level, and the look had to make the chef happy, but Nick would be in control of the aesthetics, after years of executing other peopleâs ideas.
Nickâs $133,300 design and contractorâs fees would have been out of Jonahâs range if heâd been paying Nick for the workâso Jonah made himself focus on the benefits, even though this felt a little bit like somebody trespassing on his turf. He was getting a bargain up front in exchange for money down the line, and once Huertas made enough profit to repay investors it wouldnât hurt quite so much. In the meantime, he could add the market value of Nickâs work to his fund-raising total and tell people that heâd raised almost $700,000 because, in effect, he had. He contacted the realtor to give him the good news. Jonah was ready to set up another meeting.
The realtor told him to fax over his bank statement first.
With that, Jonah was plunged into a universe he hoped to visit as rarely as possible for the rest of his life, surrounded by realtors and lawyers and inundated with e-mails and margin notes and questions. He listened to them go back and forth and wondered, not for the last time, when he was ever going to get back to cooking.
The landlord had agreed to hold the listing off the market for thirty days, but the clock ran out without resolution, so Jonah wrote another check to keep the listing off the market for thirty days more. His lawyer and the realtor told him not to worry, that the deal was going to happen and the pace was not at all unusual. Still, they got to within days of the second deadline without a deal, and Jonah, not eager to write a check for another month of what was starting to seem like dithering, wondered loudly how they could wrap this up.
â¢Â   â¢Â   â¢
A liquor license was the last thing that stood between Jonah and a signed lease. With a restaurantâs wholesale costs at between 20 and 30 percent of the menu priceâa $10 glass of wine cost the restaurant $2.50âalcohol was the best insurance policy a new restaurant could have, a reliable profit center that made up for the slim margins on food and helped to reduce Jonahâs risk, which in turn made the landlord happy. The bar at Huertas took up a third of the space, and the dining-room menu featured beverage pairings, so there was no question of opening without a license.
New York was an open state, which meant that there was no cap on how many liquor licenses a county or city or township might grant, as opposed to a closed state like New Jersey or Pennsylvania, which issued a finite number of licenses and required frustrated applicants to purchase from an existing business or wait for the occasional auction. New York State regulated the process not with a cap but with a tougher application process designed to weed out questionable candidatesâand New York City required an applicant to navigate more of an obstacle course than anywhere else in the state. To get approval from the New York State Liquor Authority, Jonah had first to convince a local community board that he deserved a license.
There were fifty-nine community boards in the five boroughs of New York City, each with a subcommittee that had the right to grant, defer, or deny a license requestâand if the license
Nick had been around restaurants long enough to know that equitymight not be worth anything for years, but a more immediate reward came with the handshake: He insisted on the right to design the space, to use it as a showcase for his notions of how a restaurant ought to look. He had to support Jonahâs concept on a practical level, and the look had to make the chef happy, but Nick would be in control of the aesthetics, after years of executing other peopleâs ideas.
Nickâs $133,300 design and contractorâs fees would have been out of Jonahâs range if heâd been paying Nick for the workâso Jonah made himself focus on the benefits, even though this felt a little bit like somebody trespassing on his turf. He was getting a bargain up front in exchange for money down the line, and once Huertas made enough profit to repay investors it wouldnât hurt quite so much. In the meantime, he could add the market value of Nickâs work to his fund-raising total and tell people that heâd raised almost $700,000 because, in effect, he had. He contacted the realtor to give him the good news. Jonah was ready to set up another meeting.
The realtor told him to fax over his bank statement first.
With that, Jonah was plunged into a universe he hoped to visit as rarely as possible for the rest of his life, surrounded by realtors and lawyers and inundated with e-mails and margin notes and questions. He listened to them go back and forth and wondered, not for the last time, when he was ever going to get back to cooking.
The landlord had agreed to hold the listing off the market for thirty days, but the clock ran out without resolution, so Jonah wrote another check to keep the listing off the market for thirty days more. His lawyer and the realtor told him not to worry, that the deal was going to happen and the pace was not at all unusual. Still, they got to within days of the second deadline without a deal, and Jonah, not eager to write a check for another month of what was starting to seem like dithering, wondered loudly how they could wrap this up.
â¢Â   â¢Â   â¢
A liquor license was the last thing that stood between Jonah and a signed lease. With a restaurantâs wholesale costs at between 20 and 30 percent of the menu priceâa $10 glass of wine cost the restaurant $2.50âalcohol was the best insurance policy a new restaurant could have, a reliable profit center that made up for the slim margins on food and helped to reduce Jonahâs risk, which in turn made the landlord happy. The bar at Huertas took up a third of the space, and the dining-room menu featured beverage pairings, so there was no question of opening without a license.
New York was an open state, which meant that there was no cap on how many liquor licenses a county or city or township might grant, as opposed to a closed state like New Jersey or Pennsylvania, which issued a finite number of licenses and required frustrated applicants to purchase from an existing business or wait for the occasional auction. New York State regulated the process not with a cap but with a tougher application process designed to weed out questionable candidatesâand New York City required an applicant to navigate more of an obstacle course than anywhere else in the state. To get approval from the New York State Liquor Authority, Jonah had first to convince a local community board that he deserved a license.
There were fifty-nine community boards in the five boroughs of New York City, each with a subcommittee that had the right to grant, defer, or deny a license requestâand if the license
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