Noodles can change the world | Mae Suramek | TEDxCorbin

Mae Suramek had two goals when she started her restaurant in a small town in Central Appalachia: to create epic noodle bowls and to change the world. Noodle Nirvana’s business model includes substantial donations to nonprofits, valuing workers with good salaries and stable schedules, and creating an atmosphere that brings people together. Suramek asks us to imagine a world where all businesses invest in community agencies that address poverty, hunger and violence because “we belong to each other.” Mae Suramek is a philanthropist and socially-conscious restaurateur in Berea, Kentucky.

This talk was given at a TEDx event using the TED conference format but independently organized by a local community. Learn more at https://www.ted.com/tedx

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

that provides food for children
on weekends and holidays

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)