Fountains of creamy frozen yogurt and a gargantuan toppings bar greet customers as they enter Bosco’s Frozen Yogurt to make the sundae of their wildest dreams.
Little do they know that the experience is being brought to them in part by Edwin Edwards, the grandson of the colorful former governor who served four nonconsecutive terms between 1972 and 1996.
Edwards and his business partner, Chad Hughes, opened Bosco’s, on Nicholson Drive in the University View II strip center, in March. They graduated from LSU—Edwards majored in political science and Hughes in business—and had worked in restaurant service and management. After several attempts at buying into franchises, Edwards and Hughes decided to go into business for themselves.
Why frozen yogurt?
“We realized that self-serve was an up-and-coming business,” Edwards says. “It started on the West Coast and is moving slowly south, so we thought we’d try to get in now while it’s a new idea.”
Edwards’ original plan was to attend law school, in keeping with the family legacy, but the opportunity to be a business owner won out.
“I saw all of the things my family has done and just wanted something different,” he says. “Even going to law school was too close to politics. I just wanted to do something different, work for myself immediately and own my own business. That was a big selling point.”
His gamble has so far paid off.
The self-serve frozen yogurt concept is fairly simple: Customers choose from 12 flavors that range from chocolate and vanilla to mango and red velvet cake, and from 50 toppings that range from fruit and granola to decadent hot fudge and sprinkles. Then they weigh their concoction and pay 42 cents per ounce.
“It’s two opposite ends of the spectrum,” Hughes says.
The economy has been pretty steady in Baton Rouge, he says, and residents still are spending money, meaning $3 or $4 for a cup of frozen yogurt isn’t much of a blow to the pocketbook.
The location, between Tiger Stadium and Tigerland, also has been an advantage because it provides a steady customer base, which could have proven difficult to grow given the current economic client. And almost anyone who has spent time on a college campus knows that sweets count as a major food group.
“It didn’t seem like that big of an obstacle to overcome, being this close to campus,” Hughes says. “We have the ability to target 25,000 people that are in one location.”
Sales for the first two months of business have exceeded expectations, he says, and the student response has been phenomenal.
Bosco’s has become a hangout, where chances are high that customers will see someone they know, and students have called it a nonalcoholic alternative to the Tigerland bars. The store’s popularity isn’t exclusive to students: Bosco’s also has targeted parents with children.
“We’ve wanted to get that [student] core in here, but we also want to branch out,” Hughes says. “We want as much business as possible.”
One advantage to the self-serve model is obvious: Customers make their own desserts, Hughes says, which cuts out the employee behind the counter who might not get the combination of yogurts and toppings just right, producing a different taste or quality every time. As a result, self-serve comes close to guaranteeing a customer’s satisfaction with the final product.
“You get everything you want and nothing you don’t want,” Edwards says. “They can put their personal touch on it. It’s harder to complain.”
A self-serve business might look easy, since customers create their own product, but Edwards and Hughes can attest that much work goes on behind the scenes. It includes prepping products and frozen yogurt machines, supervising employees, maintaining a pristine store and staying on top of paperwork. The store has three part-time employees, and one of the owners is at the store at all times.
Edwards and Hughes did not have secure financing from a bank, which could have viewed their proposal as a risky prospect in a time of strict underwriting standards and wariness towards startups. Most of their venture was family-financed, which can complicate pitching a business concept.
“We showed the numbers and that we had done research on other businesses like this to let them know this wasn’t something we were doing on a whim,” Hughes says. “We showed [our families] we had the ability to do this.”
Because Bosco’s is an original concept, its startup costs were easier to finance than those of a franchise would have been, Hughes says. Being locally owned also attracts customers who might not darken the door of a franchise.
“We both went to LSU. We both grew up here,” Edwards says. “Now we’re coming right back to LSU to open our business. That plays a lot into it.”
Edwards and Hughes want to open at least one more store by the end of the year, though the location remains uncertain. Another Baton Rouge store is a definite possibility, but the response from LSU students might point the co-owners to opportunities for locations close to the Southeastern Louisiana University, University of Louisiana at Lafayette or University of New Orleans campuses.
“It might be a smart thing to go near another campus, but there are a couple of areas in Baton Rouge that we are looking at as well,” Hughes says.
So who is Bosco?
The answer is, no one. “Bosco” actually comes from an online mistranslation of bacca, which is Italian for “berry.” Edwards and Hughes were after an original name that also tied into their theme, especially since most self-serve restaurants are named after varieties of fruit. Even after the mistake was caught, the name stuck.
“A lot of people come in wanting to know if one of us is Bosco or if one of us has a dog named Bosco,” Edwards says. “I have to tell them it was a slight mistake, but that it worked out for the best.”
