Posted on 06/15/2017 3:27:19 AM PDT by C19fan
The New York soup company which inspired the Soup Nazi character on the hit comedy Seinfeld has filed for bankruptcy. Soupman Inc is based in Staten Island and sells soups made from the recipes of Al Yeganeh, who opened his store in Manhattan in 1984. He and his New York soup stand were the inspiration for the Seinfeld character, played by actor Larry Thomas, who would make his would-be customers follow strict rules to order or otherwise refuse to serve them, barking his repeated catchphrase: 'No soup for you!'
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Actually,we got a soup from his shop after seeing his show.His business model afterwards was flawed.
Lived down the block from the tiny hole in the wall storefront.
His success defied all conventional wisdom. In midtown Manhattan where location, location, location was the rule Soupman opened on a short side street block with virtually no pedestrian traffic except residents from the block west of the store walking east towards Broadway. IIRC, it was the only storefront on either side of the short block, otherwise dull side service entrance for office buildings.
His sign was brutally simple. It was open only for lunch, maybe for two hours max. Don’t recall hours on the sign. It was either opened or shuttered. You had to know of the place to go there.
Limited menu that changed according to his choice of two or three soups for that day. There was no one particular soup available every day. One walked up ordered, payed and got the hell out of the way for the next customer. Soupman had no patience for the undecided dawdler. Three pots of soup soup at the short counter. You got what you saw, no changes, additions, or deletions, or different sizes. One container plus chunk of buttered baguette. Simple. And given his limited window of opportunity an understandable attitude.
Given all that, it was the consistently high quality of his delicious offerings that made him successful. As far as I knew, his only advertising was by word of mouth.
So, off the main foot traffic streets, a changing three item menu, no foyer much less seating, zero ambiance, offering an outstanding product otherwise available only in a more expensive restaurant, no one would have givwn him much chance for success. But part of the appeal for a mid-town dweller was the quirky soup speakeasy air hidden in one of the densest commercial neighborhoods, a sort of delicious secret few shared. One always felt the Soupman could disappear any day, a feeling butressed by seeing the security gate if you arrived too early or too late.
Lived down the block from the tiny hole in the wall storefront.
His success defied all conventional wisdom. In midtown Manhattan where location, location, location was the rule Soupman opened on a short side street block with virtually no pedestrian traffic except residents from the block west of the store walking east towards Broadway. IIRC, it was the only storefront on either side of the short block, otherwise dull side service entrance for office buildings.
His sign was brutally simple. It was open only for lunch, maybe for two hours max. Don’t recall hours on the sign. It was either opened or shuttered. You had to know of the place to go there.
Limited menu that changed according to his choice of two or three soups for that day. There was no one particular soup available every day. One walked up ordered, payed and got the hell out of the way for the next customer. Soupman had no patience for the undecided dawdler. Three pots of soup soup at the short counter. You got what you saw, no changes, additions, or deletions, or different sizes. One container plus chunk of buttered baguette. Simple. And given his limited window of opportunity an understandable attitude.
Given all that, it was the consistently high quality of his delicious offerings that made him successful. As far as I knew, his only advertising was by word of mouth.
So, off the main foot traffic streets, a changing three item menu, no foyer much less seating, zero ambiance, offering an outstanding product otherwise available only in a more expensive restaurant, no one would have givwn him much chance for success. But part of the appeal for a mid-town dweller was the quirky soup speakeasy air hidden in one of the densest commercial neighborhoods, a sort of delicious secret few shared. One always felt the Soupman could disappear any day, a feeling butressed by seeing the security gate if you arrived too early or too late.
I hope he will reorganize and stay open...
I really like the Soupman Lobster Bisque that used to be sold in my Safeway. One of the best canned soups ever; but they haven’t had it much over the past year.
Everything had one of a few price points, and he had the change from a $20 ready in the drawer. I remember getting $7 or $8 folded, straight from the register.
I enjoyed the soup. I had it not long after the episode aired. Some people in my office had already eaten there, and knew exactly whom it was supposed to be.
One of those things that finds its way into my common lexicon:
"No internet/computer repair/ticket/toy/cell phone/car/date/house/freedom/food/bail/discount/insurance/global warming/presidency/job/soup for you!
He should rename the business “Soup Nazi” and everyone will recognize it.
I wonder what the rights to the name would cost?
Now that you mentioned I remember the different sizes. I only saw the episode years after discovering the place.
The large lobster bisque was worth it on a cold day.
When the Lobster Bisque was on the menu I always picked up three, one for the moment and two for the freezer. As I mentioned I was on the same street, not a full block away. From the lobby door I could see the line forming, a sure sign to hustle on down no matter the weather.
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