Episode 7: Chicken Tenders & Capital Raises with Uri Geva, CEO of Cookie Dough Bliss

Hey Uri, it is so awesome to have you on the podcast. Thanks for coming on.

Thank you so much for having me. Excited to talk about some food.

Awesome. So, you know, we are meeting each other for the first time, which is always fun. I know nothing about you, so this is going to be very different from a lot of my other guests, and I think it is going to be awesome. First, do you want to tell me a little bit about Cookie Dough Bliss?

Yeah. So Cookie Dough Bliss is a franchise system. It is a dessert place where you can come in, pick from sixteen different flavors of ready-to-eat cookie dough, and get it by the scoop. Then you get twelve different flavors of ice cream, again by the scoop. You kind of mix and match—there is a billion combinations, whatever sixteen times twelve to the exponent is. I am not strong on that math combination there. And then you add any toppings that you want on top of it. They are typically unlimited toppings, and you can put it in a pink waffle cone or you can do it in a bowl. We call that our “blissful creation.” As people get that texture at forty degrees—the cookie dough a little warmer—and the ice cream at twelve degrees melting in your mouth, we love to call that our “blissful moment.”

The space is also really fun. We have a curated radio station with really good music. There are all kinds of neon signs. It is very Instagrammable and much more welcoming than some of our competition. A lot of dessert places are: you go there, you get your dessert, you leave. It is really good dessert, but the experiential moment is missing. We are working on that—building great cultures and five-star reviews. And we do not hire like Hooters for looks; we hire for personality.

Nice. I love that. I have to tell you, a lot of the founders that we have talked to on this show would love Cookie Dough Bliss if they have not been there already. Where are you based?

Our headquarters is in College Station, Texas, and we have twenty-seven locations that have been sold across the country so far. Six are open all over the country—from Tampa to Gatlinburg, Tennessee. We have one in College Station, Texas, obviously a couple in Waco. In the Northwest, we are in Meridian, right next to Boise, Idaho. We have stores under construction in Portland, Houston, Oklahoma City, and Albuquerque. We are trying to grow this thing as fast as we can and take it nationwide by storm.

That is awesome. When did you start building Cookie Dough Bliss? How long has this been?

Great question. It was started by a husband-and-wife team who were looking to, you know, solve world peace or world hunger—but instead found a dessert you cannot say no to. Andre and his wife started the brand, and about two and a half years ago, Chris Clark, Haley Clark, and I bought the business from the founders. They had started franchising and it got a little bigger than what they were planning. They really enjoyed making the cookie dough, not necessarily dealing with franchising. Our background was being a franchisee of another chain—we were a large franchisee in four states with thirty locations—and we realized there was a lot to improve in the franchisor–franchisee relationship. This gave us an opportunity to jump into an emerging brand and take it to the next level in how we treat franchisees. We do not have our hand in the cookie jar at every step of the way—no pun intended. We want them winning and us winning together, building a really fun dessert brand in Cookie Dough Bliss.

A lot of the founders we talk to are high-growth startups, often raising a pre-seed round. You are the first person we have talked to about franchising and, potentially, acquisition entrepreneurship. Can you talk a little bit about that path—why you chose it—and maybe a couple of your other businesses too?

Yeah, so I kind of fell into entrepreneurship. I think it is in my genes. My grandmother and grandfather were entrepreneurs; my mom was an entrepreneur. I did not know what “entrepreneur” even means—I still do not know how to spell it. I started my first business out of college: a digital ad agency. We worked with a lot of big brands—the World Poker Tour, the Houston Texans, Larry Fitzgerald, the Cowboys, and others. We evolved from that into owning a minor league baseball team—because who does not want to own a sports team, right? We were doing websites and digital work for the sports and entertainment industry, and, just because you own an iPhone does not make you qualified to build them; just because you do websites and digital marketing for sports teams does not make you qualified to own a team. We learned the hard way. We are going into our twentieth anniversary season for the Brazos Valley Bombers, a team here in Bryan–College Station. It is a passion project—lots of food at the ballpark, kid food and fun food for the soul.

When we jumped into franchising, we built through acquisitions. We bought one location, then another. During the pandemic, there were opportunities to acquire locations. The path was: buy locations, build a group of stores, and then flip to private equity. That was the play. We did not figure out all the dots—how the exit happens and what the franchisor thinks of it. As serial entrepreneurs, we have a hard time coloring within the lines. When the opportunity came to acquire a franchise system and become the franchisor, we could create the lines, help people become entrepreneurs, and pour into that passion—not just for us, but for others. Too good to pass up. Plus, the cookie dough is to die for. Cookie dough, franchising, entrepreneurship, fun—let us go do it.

This podcast is about food, but my background is creative capital and getting capital to businesses to scale quickly. In thirty seconds, what does the capital stack look like for what you are doing?

Two different paths. When we were a franchisee, we went through banking. We would put twenty, thirty, forty percent down to acquire the business, and the businesses were cash-flow positive. You find the right bank that matches your goals—some focus on real estate, some on cash-flow businesses, some on cars. We found a good partner and grew that way.

With Cookie Dough Bliss, it is different. It is about raising capital. We are in our third round. We met Bison Equities, who have been gracious helping us through A, B, and C rounds, all with pre-built share values. The whole raise is about the value of each share, with the thought of going public through a reverse merger. There are companies that are publicly traded doing nothing with their ticker; you take one over through a reverse merger, and now Cookie Dough Bliss is publicly traded. Our investors from all rounds become liquid much quicker. The eventual exit is private equity when we get to three to four hundred locations. In the meantime, you still need capital to grow, and we do it through small micro-raises—a minimum of ten thousand dollars, average around thirty thousand—through angels and people we know who are excited. They must be accredited—you are not taking someone’s last dime or next mortgage payment. We have gone from fifteen cents to thirty cents; now we are at sixty cents, this round is about to close, and we will go to ninety cents, with the thought that we could go public next year once we have thirty-five stores open or so.

Awesome. Back to food—not necessarily cookie dough. When you were growing up, what did you eat with your family? What did meals look like?

I grew up in Israel and moved to the States in high school. I joke about The Book of Uri—the food that I eat. Until around second grade, I ate the same thing every single day. If there was any other food on the table, I would not eat. With grandparents watching—“Hey, your kid is not eating”—my parents knew that if the grandparents were coming, they had better make that meal, or I would not eat.

To this day, my relationship with food is: it is a necessity, not something I have to fuss over. At foodie restaurants or fancy places, people ask if I will find something to eat. I am fine. I will find something. It is about you, not me. If it were about me, we are going fast food—we are going to the next thing on the list. I do value really good food, though.

Growing up, it was little turkey bites—basically like a meatball, but not soaked and soggy—more like lightly fried hamburger bites. Take ground turkey, add bread, seasoning, make a little ball, coat in breadcrumbs, lightly fry. I think I shared the recipe with you. I apparently ate them every day through second grade. With that, a carrot salad with a little sugar and orange juice, and French fries or some potato. That was every day. Everyone else had a different plate. Eventually I added a second meal: chicken tenders. My menu expanded.

The Book of Uri makes for great dinner conversations. I was at the Staples Center at a fancy event—the Laker Girls are dancing, very nice food—and my team looks at me and says, “We are hitting McDonald’s on the way to the hotel,” and I said, “Absolutely.” Have whatever I had on my plate.

We always had dinners together as a family. That was really important to my parents. We still do Friday night dinners with my parents as often as we can with our kids now. Food is a place to gather and have great conversation. For me, skip the food part; just have the conversation.

I love that. I am a big chicken tenders fan. If I go out, I get made fun of because I order the chicken tenders appetizer as my meal—tenders and fries. I am good with that.

Absolutely. You cannot go wrong with that. In The Book of Uri, I joke that it is a one-page manifesto with only one devout member to this cult, and it has never been published. It says: do not have cheese unless it is on pizza. I do not know where that rule came from, but I stick to it. Very limited on purple foods—who likes purple foods? Baba ghanoush or anything purple—just stay away. Grape juice is different because there is so much sugar it compensates for the color.

I am trying to think of purple foods. I love purple carrots—you know, the rainbow carrots. I am a big fan. Those are delicious.

Yeah, no. I think purple can really light up a plate. I used to own a restaurant and my wife made all the cocktails. There is butterfly pea powder you can use to make drinks purple—magic-trick color changes. Purple is flashy. I am good with the purple foods. I am more about magenta because of our Cookie Dough Bliss logo, and I have a magenta suit that goes with it. But no on purple foods, and no on food from water.

So, no fish?

Definitely no fish, no seafood. I did expand and added “sushi,” but not real sushi, according to my friends—avocado and cucumber rolls. I get the veggie roll and get made fun of for it. I do enjoy avocado, which got added when my daughter—now in college—was six months old and eating avocado. It is a starter superfood. I tried it and added it to my plate. That is the last new food added, years ago. My wife is an amazing cook, and my kids are fine. They eat normal.

When I go to a steakhouse, I love a well-done steak—no red in the meat.

You are breaking my heart. Well-done steak?

No purple foods and no red in the meat. The whole family orders medium-rare or rare—my son who is ten, my girls, my wife. Then they come to me: “Well-done, please.” At least the kids turned out normal.

I like that. I usually ask about lunch routines, but I have a different question. Investor dinners are a thing when you are raising money. At those dinners, are you really ordering chicken fingers, cucumber sushi, and a well-done steak?

Absolutely. At really fancy restaurants, I almost feel like I have to apologize to the chef for ordering a plain hamburger or a plain baked potato. With some investors, once you build relationships, they know what I am going to order. They will say, “He is getting the plain-Jane burger, nothing on it, with fries and sweet tea or iced tea.” I have learned to use it as a positive. Some people say my palate is silly, like a five-year-old’s. I brag about it because cookie dough is kid food; the baseball team is kid food. I stayed Peter Pan true to my roots of eating like a five-year-old. It makes the conversation fun and is a soft conversation toward the hard ask—“Will you invest in Cookie Dough?” They get to know your personality. I do not take it too seriously. It is just who I am. Fast food is great. One of my favorite places is In-N-Out Burger. When we go to a city with Cookie Dough Bliss and an In-N-Out, my staff knows where lunch is. It is fun to use who you are rather than fight it. It has not changed in almost fifty years.

I love that so much. That is a true entrepreneur—owning your story. Family rituals: you said you still have dinner with your parents. Do they live close by? What do those meals look like?

Being from Israel, I am Jewish and strong in my faith. Friday night dinner is Shabbat dinner. We light candles to welcome Shabbat and distinguish the Sabbath. Everybody comes home—even my daughter from college. We all live in College Station. My parents taught at Texas A&M for many years; that is how we ended up here. We try to have Friday night dinners because of tradition and history. My mom typically cooks—she is a great cook and knows my “crazy.” My dad has less “crazy” than me on the food palette. She makes great food my wife and kids enjoy. We get there around 5:30–6:30, have dinner, hang out, and talk. Everyone has activities—high school stuff, playdates, sleepovers—so we do it two to three times a month. Not every Friday. My parents are active; they have friends. Sometimes my mom is tired of cooking, so we go to a restaurant. Everybody loves a good steak—even if it is well-done.

What do holidays look like?

We call it Geva-Giving instead of Thanksgiving. For almost twenty years, my sister lived in Chicago, so we would meet in North Arkansas. Now she is in L.A., so we meet in the middle or they join us. Traditional meals: turkey, sometimes stuffed chicken. My daughters love helping with pumpkin pie and all the classic dishes. For Hanukkah: latkes and sufganiyot—amazing donuts. The other three major holidays are Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, and Passover. Passover is my wife’s favorite. Traditional foods: gefilte fish and matzo ball soup. Passover is unique because the meal is the show. You tell the story of the Exodus through the Haggadah and it pauses for dinner, with segments throughout. My grandfather used to make the matzo balls, then my mom, now my wife. Whoever makes the matzo balls keeps everyone on pace—when reading stops, when dinner goes. My dad will say, “Five more minutes,” or, “Faster, faster,” or, “Slow down; give some reading to the kids.”

In College Station, there is no ground fish for gefilte fish, so my wife uses fatty ground turkey. When people do not know, they think it is gefilte fish. New guests see gefilte fish; my kids love it—one daughter would eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It tastes the same to most people. I do not like gefilte fish—or gefilte turkey—because they taste exactly the same.

Do you cook holiday meals or meals at home?

I know how to make the turkey bites—survival skill before college. I make really good French toast, spaghetti bolognese, schnitzel or chicken tenders, and anything you can bake. My kids say I make the best eggs—sunny-side up, scrambled; somehow Dad puts more love in. I help with filler meals during the week. If it is a nice dinner with guests, I set the table, clean dishes, and support—so people have less bland food. I bring dessert. Less on the stove.

When you cook, do you follow recipes or wing it?

From the heart. When you make turkey bites for twenty-something years, you can do it blind—the same recipe over and over. We added a rub recently from Fox Bros. Bar-B-Q in Atlanta—amazing rub. One of those moments: “Maybe this will make it better,” like when avocado looked interesting, or trying sushi. But mostly it is memorized knowledge. If I had to start something new, I would follow the recipe to a T and it would probably still come out not very good—there is no passion and love. You need love for the food. If I am making something new, I probably have never tried it and probably will not try it. You do not want me to try something new.

Do you eat to live or live to eat?

Live to eat, right? No. Food is a bystander to having a snack—whatever the right version is. I was still trying to figure out the right answer.

You definitely eat to live. No doubt. You talk about lunches and food and being an entrepreneur—there is stuff going on.

My favorite in Israel is falafel—stuff the pita with salad, hummus, tahini, maybe fries. I could have that every day—fast, in and out. Not many falafel spots in College Station. So, fast food in the middle of the day, get to the next task, keep building. I definitely eat to live. Without food, I get grumpy—hangry. If you are in the dumps, sugar helps lift you up—great mental health need we all have.

One of my favorite stories: with my business partner at Bern’s Steak House in Tampa—an experience, a four-hour meal. For a guy who eats to live, that is a lot. They have a separate dessert room, the largest private wine collection, a kitchen tour—the works. We get to dessert and I break: “Can I just have the cake? Stop with the show. Chocolate cake, some ice cream. I am done.” My business partner said, “I am never taking you there again.” There is a limit to how much “experience” I can take—even when they make a good well-done steak.

When things are going well with the company, what are you eating? When things are going poorly, are you heading to Cookie Dough Bliss and grabbing a bucket?

To celebrate, I have always loved a steak dinner with the family. Though after a big deal, I took them to Dixie Chicken—a hole-in-the-wall college bar with very greasy burgers and fries and a rattlesnake inside the bar. The kids were confused. I wanted to reflect—good place I hung out in college. When times are bad: sugar and comfort foods—turkey bites, my mom’s bolognese, chicken tenders or schnitzel, and halva (ground chickpeas and sesame)—a Middle Eastern dessert you spread on bread. Go back to basics to reset the soul. It really sucks, whatever it is, but a little good home cooking fixes everything. To celebrate, sometimes it is fun to go back to the meal I had until I was seven. It is about the people around you, not the food.

What is in your fridge right now?

Cake from my son’s birthday—tea biscuits dipped in a little wine and coffee, layered with Cool Whip, with chocolate glaze on top. It might already be gone. Spaghetti bolognese leftovers. Meat ready to make turkey bites. Meat ready to make chicken tenders. Lots of eggs and milk—and healthy food for the kids that I do not look at.

That is great. I am famously bad at finding anything in the fridge that is not right in front of me.

Yeah—if it is in the back or in a drawer, it does not exist. My wife will say, “There are cucumbers in the drawer,” and I cannot find them. With the big birthday cake taking up space, everything else gets pushed to the back and smushed together.

Amazing. My wife made chicken thighs with rice, prunes, sage, and a little saffron—very hearty—and she packed me a quart so I would see it.

The act of service, the love—amazing. The food sounds… okay. I am sure listeners love it and think it sounds amazing. For me, that is a lot of flavors and textures. No chicken tenders—does not fit The Book of Uri. It fits for most normal people, just not this one guy.

What are you doing for dinner tonight?

During the week it is tough—two kids with baseball, soccer, softball; an activity on campus for my wife. Tonight, it is whatever everyone can scrounge and heat quickly—eat to live. My wife made amazing bolognese this weekend, so leftovers, and we will make some chicken tenders. On the weekend, more of a sit-down dinner together.

Where is the next Cookie Dough Bliss going?

Next looks like Portland, Oregon, right in downtown. There is a race between three under construction: one in Houston on Westheimer, one in Oklahoma City, and the one in Portland. We are negotiating new leases in several places—you could see Columbus, Ohio pop up—and a couple under construction in Albuquerque, New Mexico. If anybody wants to jump in and be a franchisee, it is a fun business with really good music and really good food.

That is awesome. We will make sure there is a contact for you in the show notes. Uri, thanks so much for being on the podcast. It was great to have you.

Thank you so much for having me.