A son of wealth finds his calling in a luxury grocery store

ByTech Word News

On a rainy morning in March, 25 folding chairs were spread out on the floor of Meadow Lane, a gourmet market in Lower Manhattan that is normally packed with influencers, Tribeca moms, and financier bros picking up lunch. Today, the site belonged to McKinsey & Company.

Consultants are the ones who requested the meeting. They wanted to know how Meadow Lane had become such a thriving business in such a short time. They shook out their umbrellas and found their seats among artisan cookies, seaweed drinks and carefully arranged jars of honey.

Sammy Nussdorf, the 29-year-old store owner, watched them settle in. Then he began to speak.

He told the consultants about the long permit purgatory he went through before starting the business. He told them about the $65 olive oil and the $12 chicken salad. He told them about how the kitchen was struggling to keep up with demand. He even told them about undercooked chicken pikes, which, to his horror, happened international news. When he finished, the consultants had questions.

Why store mexico cola?

Nussdorf said he wants an eclectic mix rather than the usual monoculture of the health market.

How did he choose brands for his shelves?

He spent a year tasting products before opening, he said. And it made room for new products by not charging emerging independent brands a so-called slotting fee, unlike many other retailers.

Did social media help?

Oh yes. In fact, he considered his TikTok followers something like partners in the business.

Satisfied, the consultants filled their bags with produce and snacks before thanking him for his time and heading back out into the rain.

On the morning of the conference, Meadow Lane had been open for 90 days. During that time, Nussdorf said, the store has served 80,000 customers and generated $3 million in sales. On a given day, he said, more than 1,000 people passed through the 2,000-square-foot space on Greenwich Street.

“Running a business like this in a place like New York is a nightmare,” he said. “I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone. But it’s so good.”

He grew up on the Upper East Side, directly across Fifth Avenue from the Metropolitan Museum of Art. He is the youngest son of Glenn Nussdorf, CEO of the family business, Quality King Distributors, a multi-billion dollar distributor of health, beauty and prescription drugs.

Forbes ranked the Nussdorfs among the 150 richest families in America. Sammy’s father, who keeps a low public profile, asked to be removed from the list.

“My family and I never talked about money,” Sammy said. “We’ve never discussed inheritance, property, values, anything. I have no idea. I can guess if I want, but I don’t really care.”

Nussdorf was trimming stems and arranging flowers (Japanese sweet peas and alliums) in a studio off the main floor of Meadow Lane as he talked about finding a way. During his years at Columbia Grammar and Prep, a private school on the Upper West Side, he struggled academically. By his own words, he was a party boy by the time he was 14, staying out at clubs until 5 a.m. at school.

In high school, he started a food Instagram documenting bolognese sauce and aglio e olio, which he made from scratch. As a sociology major at New York University, he hosted parties in his first apartment.

His father had a family investment office on Spring St. three blocks from where he lived. Group and Sammy started working there in the summer. When he graduated in 2019, he was well versed in venture capital. He soon assumed leadership responsibilities.

“Nepotism afforded me the privilege of being in this position,” he said. “But the money that opened Meadow Lane is the money I made in VC. He paused. “A lot of people didn’t believe it.”

While toiling in finance, he began to seriously engage in a hobby — flower arranging. He would get up at 5 a.m. to buy flowers at the markets along West 28th Street and deliver them to friends. He was reverting back to a version of himself cluttered with spreadsheets. He started imagining a flower and coffee shop. He would call it Meadow Lane, after the three-mile strip in Southampton known as Billionaires Row, where the Nussdorf family has a home.

He landed a job with Jeff Leatham, a Los Angeles florist whose client list reads like a Met Gala seating chart. Friends from the East Coast would FaceTime Nussdorf to find him in the basement cutting stems. Away from the orchids and peonies, he found himself in the aisles of Erewhon, a high-end organic food store that was fast becoming a place for influencers.

Ready to act on his plan, he returned to New York. But he quickly realized that his original idea of ​​a shop dedicated to flowers and coffee would not disappoint. There would have to be prepared foods, Peruvian grapes, matcha powder.

After signing the lease, he submitted proposals to a marketing agency, only to find that the professionals were offering “really boring stuff for $15,000 a month,” he said. So he created a TikTok account.

The first thing he needed was a grippy handle. “Something is really cringing,” he said. He decided on Brokeback Contessa, a mash-up of “Brokeback Mountain” and Ina Garten’s “Barefoot Contessa.” In an early video, Nussdorf explained that he was going to build a grocery store and document the process, start to finish, warts and all.

He showed that he had a tense meeting with a supplier and then rode the elevator wearing sunglasses. The woman asks him to describe the meeting in three words. “Unsuspended, disappointing and expensive,” he says. A TikTok star, or at least a viable social media presence, was born.

What followed was either a master class in modern marketing or something that happens when someone puts something out in public with a lot of passion and no filter. As Nussdorf posted videos describing his failures and moments of doubt, his TikTok followers grew to more than 150,000.

“I think the more information, the more the curtain behind private business is revealed, the more people are interested,” he said.

As Meadow Lane neared its opening date last November, thousands invested in whether the New York City Department of Buildings would approve its pipeline. Fashion and Vanity Fair sent reporters and photographers. Soon fans were stopping Nussdorf on the street: Hey Brokeback! When do we get turkey pinwheels?

While building his business, Nussdorf manages addiction.

“I was running Meadow Lane in and out of rehab,” he said. “It had nothing to do with being late. It was hard. I’d go home after work and lose control. No sleep. Just trying to fit in my addiction. Also trying to hide it. It’s a nightmare.”

He said he knew his ketamine use was out of control. “I was sick of living this way, bound to a substance that maintained isolation and deep sadness,” he said. “My addiction has separated me from myself, everyone and everything I love. The road forward is not easy. It is a daily decision and practice.”

Meadow Lane helped him through.

“When you’re recovering early, you need a purpose,” he said. “You need passion. You need a reason to wake up in the morning. It’s great therapy for me, whether I’m sitting at my desk making flowers, which is my meditative state, or helping customers.”

“In a way, I feel like it saved me,” he added. “Meadow Lane and my dog, the schnitzel.” (For the record, the steak is a mini goldendoodle).

TikTok-driven lines welcomed the store opening. The kitchen, built for 300 transactions a day, was overwhelmed. At the same time, online backlash targeted him for selling such expensive merchandise. “People are threatening to burn down the shop and throwing stones at the windows,” Nussdorf told The New York Postwhich made him a running figure.

On the third day, videos showing undercooked chicken nuggets appeared on social media. Nussdorf was sure the mistake would sink him. He tracked down the affected customers and privately refunded them, he said, and posted a video in which he took responsibility.

“The second day,” he said, “I didn’t think people were coming back — but the lines were longer.”

Amidst the drama of opening week, celebrity chef Bobby Flay, a resident of the neighborhood, toured the store. “He probably had the biggest pre-press in the history of a food business opening,” Flay said in an interview. “We’ve all been paying attention. He approached the owner who looked a little down.

“That’s right.” hard” Nussdorf told him, Flay recalled.

Flay told him what every restaurateur eventually learns: “You asked for it and you got it. Now comes the practical part. Keep your head down and put out the best food you can every day.”

The pep talk worked.

“He talked me off a cliff,” Nussdorf said. “My whole team was telling me the same thing. But I couldn’t listen to them because they weren’t Bobby Flay.”

The chaos of the early days is now behind him. Meadow Lane is an oasis of honey-toned wood and soft lighting. The artichokes and chicory look like part of a gallery installation.

The logic of the trade is revealed slowly, if at all. Heinz Ketchup sits near Flamingo Estate Olive Oil. Duke’s mayonnaise is a few feet from Ballerina Farms protein powder.

“In the beginning, people were upset that we sold Duke’s,” Nussdorf said. “I think it’s just the best mayonnaise ever! Just because there’s something in America on every shelf doesn’t mean it’s a bad product.”

He feels that the criticism he has received about the prices is not justified, adding that the average ready meal costs about $22. “My Chipotle double protein order is more than that,” he said. “Why is everyone so mad at me?”

Frances Truesdale, Nussdorf’s operations manager (and daughter of Mary Margaret Truesdale, who runs hospitality for Ralph Lauren), stayed with Nussdorf through the chicken nugget incident and rehab. “We’ve seen it all together,” she said.

She also saw a business owner who follows instinct. “The brands, the marketing — it’s all so advanced,” Truesdale said. “It’s just so draining. He’s misstepping. He’s saying the wrong thing. He’s posting the wrong thing. And I think at an age where it’s easier than ever to look perfect, Sammy is continuing to evolve.”

When asked what he saw himself doing in his 50s, Nussdorf said he had no idea. More locations on Meadow Lane? Maybe. Maybe not. “I should probably make more friends,” he said. “I don’t do much outside of work.

He cut another stem and placed the flower in the vase. He held up the finished arrangement for Truesdale to see.

“I love it, Sammy,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said. “I need to do flowers more often.