Starlu goes dark

Even a talented young chef can't overcome the inherent risks of the restaurant business

On Nov. 28, a few minutes before 2 p.m., Durham chef Sam Poley sent the e-mail he never wanted to write -- the one announcing the closing of his restaurant, Starlu.

Starlu would close Dec. 22, he told his customers. He invited them to come for a last meal and to say goodbye. "We want to go out with the same grace with which we entered," he wrote. "We do not want to be the place that suddenly went dark with no explanation."

The reason he offered: not enough routine business. The explanation that went unsaid: location.

Poley, 38, is one of those rare chefs who is a master in both the front and back of the house. He's an inspired chef but also a charming presence in the dining room. In his white chef's jacket, khaki cargo shorts, black clogs and brightly colored socks, he knows how to make diners feel welcome. He calls many of his customers friends.

Starlu was Poley's first restaurant. After a decade of working in other people's kitchens, Poley decided he had to open his own. He says he invested $50,000 of his own money and estimates roughly $950,000 from a private investor. By the end of November, Poley's wife, Stephanie, tapped the last of the company's savings to make payroll.

The death of Poley's dream illustrates a crucial truth about the eat local movement: In a community where farmers' markets thrive and restaurant menus list that the Camembert came from Chapel Hill Creamery and the pork belly came from Cane Creek Farm, a commitment to eating local has to include dining local, or the restaurants that support those farmers will fail.

In this age of Food Network stars, it seems everyone harbors a dream of running a restaurant. The reality is restaurants are risky ventures. The average profit margin for a full-service restaurant is 4 percent, according to the National Restaurant Association. The failure rate -- though not the often-cited 90 percent in the first year -- hovers at about 60 percent after three years, according to academic research. It is a daunting undertaking to open a restaurant and make it a continued success.

"There is something incredibly immature about opening a restaurant," Poley says, "and something terrifyingly mature about closing it."

A career change

Poley ended up in the Triangle for the same reason so many others did: IBM. Poley's father, an engineer, moved the family to Cary when Poley was in high school. Poley was drawn to Durham, a post-industrial town like Kingston, N.Y., where he grew up. After graduating from Appalachian State University, Poley worked for a prominent public relations firm in Kentucky. He hated it. He moved to Durham and found jobs in public relations and advertising sales. By 25, he wanted a career change. "I essentially crumpled up my degree and got busy," Poley says.

He juggled four jobs, including selling men's clothing and working as a prep cook at Parizade in Durham. He moved from there to Pop's trattoria. He soon decided food was his calling. For many years, Poley was content to work in a kitchen and learn how to cook. He did not want his own restaurant.

"I didn't want the stress of it. I didn't want the hassle. I didn't want the potential to fail," Poley says.

He went on to work as the chef at Squids in Chapel Hill and later at The Weathervane at A Southern Season.

But if you work in kitchens long enough, you start thinking about what you would do differently if the place were yours. That's what happened to Poley. He had to open his own place. Poley concluded he was a risk taker. He wrote a business plan, started looking for financing and scouting locations.