It took a war, in a way, for Hady Kfoury to wind up calling the shots at fast-growing fast-casual Lebanese restaurant chain Naya.
In 1989, amid Lebanon’s brutal civil war, Kfoury and his family temporarily took refuge on the island of Cyprus to get away from their battle-scarred suburban neighborhood. Though the reason for their relocation might have been grim, Kfoury, who was 8 at the time, became enchanted by their swanky beachside hotel, where managers worked tirelessly to make guests happy.
“The experience triggered my appetite for hospitality, I didn’t know all the layers. I was an innocent kid. But I liked the lifestyle,” said Kfoury, who did not come from a restaurant-business family. His dad worked as a civil engineer, though his mom was a talented cook.
After hotel management school in Switzerland, Kfoury moved to New York in 2006 and soon found himself cooking for private parties at Daniel, the hot spot helmed by celebrity chef Daniel Boulud.
“I learned from him how to be so meticulous,” Kfoury said. “And there were always 20 to 30 interns around, so I was literally surrounded by some of the best cooks in the world.”
During frequent trips to Manhattan to visit an aunt when he was a kid, Kfoury became well acquainted with Midtown East. He would often gaze down from her apartment at the streets below and developed a granular feel for the rhythms of the neighborhood.
So when he decided to open his first Naya location, he chose a site on Second Avenue, between East 55th and East 56th streets, a skinny storefront where a Blimpie sandwich shop once stood.
Tapping a network of family and friends to pull together $700,000, Kfoury opened his 54-seat Lebanese eatery in 2008 but endured a sluggish start. In fact, he was running in the red with debts that included a $300,000 contractor bill. Just when he feared he would not be able to make the next payroll, help arrived in the form of a 300-word review in The New York Times.
The article, which raved about Naya’s use of the spice za’atar, which jazzes up the restaurant’s pita chips and cauliflower-based shwarma bowls, had an immediate impact. “Suddenly we were booked solid for lunch and dinner,” he recalled, “and people were clutching the review so they knew what to order.”
The early days were a family affair. Kfoury’s mother, Jocelyne, designed the recipes, and then flew to New York to teach a chef how to cook them; she even lent a hand in the tiny kitchen herself. And Kfoury’s then-girlfriend, now-wife, Mia, in between studying for a dentistry degree at NYU, ran orders back and forth.
Heartened by Americans’ growing acceptance of Middle Eastern flavors, and inspired by the assembly-line approach of then-groundbreaking Chipotle, Kfoury soon began expanding into fast-casual locations. An early strategy was to open Naya storefronts a few steps from always-packed Chipotle sites. “I wanted to be as close as possible,” he said.
This year the chain expects a top-line haul of $100 million, and as of the end of May, it had 31 stores, with 24 in Manhattan and Brooklyn; a first-ever outpost in Queens is set to arrive in June.
But Kfoury has national dreams and hopes to have 200 U.S. stores by 2030, a lofty goal that will require opening 20 to 30 new locations per year.
Falafel may not be as novel as it used to be. For example, the Middle Eastern chain Cava, a rival with a presence in 25 states, scoops out similar dishes. But Kfoury insists Naya’s menu is different, offering a Lebanese-style hummus, for instance, that’s way fluffier than its more-Greek-leaning competitor. But he said he embraces all comers.
“The more of us there are, the better chance there is of introducing this type of cuisine,” he said. “It’s getting noticed and experienced.”
