I’ve been thinking a lot about partnerships this week - mostly because I’ve seen a few business owners panic when an investor tells them “no”, as if rejection is a final verdict rather than a starting point.

And then I fell down a rabbit hole about how the Nobu empire actually began.

(Long before it became the unofficial backdrop of half of Instagram.)

The short version: Nobu Matsuhisa was a chef running a single restaurant in LA. Great food, loyal customers, zero intention of expanding. His last two partnerships - one in Peru and one in Alaska - had gone so badly they nearly wiped him out. So scaling wasn’t exactly top of his to-do list.

Enter Robert De Niro. Huge fan of the food, huge believer in what Nobu was building, and absolutely convinced it needed to exist in New York.

Most people assume Nobu said yes immediately because… well, it’s Robert De Niro. (You’d think this was the moment he made an offer Nobu couldn’t refuse).

Nobu said no. Firmly. Repeatedly.

This is the interesting part, though: De Niro didn’t do the usual investor thing where they vanish after one rejection. He kept showing up. For four years. Not pushing - just proving he was serious. 

Less investor behaviour, more artist respecting another artist.

Which is why this isn’t a celebrity story at all. 

It’s a lesson in what value-added capital actually looks like: patience, operational muscle, risk-sharing and someone who believes in the product enough to stick around when it’s inconvenient.

The quick version of how a four-year rejection turned into a $900m partnership:

1/ Nobu said no for years because past partnerships had nearly ruined him - rejection isn’t always about you

2/ De Niro kept showing up, proving intent long before any deal existed

3/ He didn’t (just) bring celebrity sparkle; he brought operators, networks and infrastructure

4/ That behaviour is what turned one LA restaurant into a scalable global brand

5/ The real lesson: capital is replaceable, but committed partners are rare - choose accordingly

To understand why Nobu kept saying no, you have to understand what came before De Niro ever walked in.

Before LA, Nobu Matsuhisa had already survived two partnerships:

So by the time he rebuilt his life in LA, he was chasing stability rather than growth. Protecting what he’d managed to salvage. And like any founder who’s been burned before, he was wary of anyone who wanted to “help”.

De Niro, however, saw something from the outside that’s harder to see from the inside: a world-class product with huge reach potential beyond a single restaurant.

The food was incredible, the experience was unique and the brand potential was obvious. But all Nobu was thinking was “please don’t let everything collapse again”.

That’s what makes the four-year gap between “no” and “yes” so important. De Niro wanted to prove intent. He kept showing up because he genuinely believed in what Nobu was doing, and because he understood that trust needs time.

And when Nobu finally agreed, De Niro didn’t show up empty-handed. He brought actual infrastructure:

A Tribeca location
A heavyweight operator in Drew Nieporent
A hospitality network Nobu couldn’t access alone
And long-term operational involvement, not passive investment

Then came the real risk: opening in New York - a graveyard for celebrity restaurants - and trying to build something that relied on world-class execution.

That discipline is what turned a single LA restaurant into the beginnings of an empire.

People weren’t just going for the food; they were going for the feeling of being in a place that actually had its act together. And yes, the miso cod helped.

From there, the growth looked almost suspiciously smooth. Every new location delivered the same experience, which is basically unheard of in hospitality. Most restaurant groups can barely keep one place consistent, never mind ten, twenty, thirty. Nobu managed it because they treated consistency like oxygen, not a nice-to-have.

By 2015, investors finally realised this wasn’t a restaurant group anymore. It was a brand with enough polish and discipline to expand into hotels, residences, the lot. Crown Resorts came in with $100m for 20%; a clear signal that the business had moved into a different league.

A few years later they exited with around an 80% gain, which tells you everything you need to know about the trajectory. The valuation hit roughly $900m without any dramatic plot twists or PR stunts - just patient scaling and very few unforced errors.

It grew because the partnership worked and the operations worked. Nothing magical. Just a rare case of two people doing exactly what they said they’d do.

Take home this doggy bag of insights for your next funding strategy:

Remember that “no” isn’t a personal attack. Investors are professional worriers - they obsess over anything that might go wrong: shallow margins, customer concentration, shaky operations, founders who look like they haven’t slept in a week. 

When you get a rejection, the useful move is figuring out which piece of the puzzle spooked them and fixing that instead of rebuilding your entire identity.

Just look at Amazon. The concept was rejected by dozens of investors who couldn’t imagine why anyone would buy books on the internet. Now you can’t even buy toothpaste without Jeff Bezos knowing.

Some investors show up full of energy and ideas. Lots of excitement, lots of encouragement, very little you can actually point to. It feels good in the moment, right up until you realise none of it translates into progress.

The partners worth keeping have a track record you can verify. They’ve grown businesses before. They know where things break and how to fix them. Their enthusiasm shows up in actions - introductions made, problems solved, time spent when things get uncomfortable.

If someone can show how they’ve moved a business forward in the past, chances are they’ll do it again. If they can’t, you’re usually just adding another name to the cap table and another opinion to the email thread.

Anyone with a bank account can wire money. The real value shows up in the form of access - the operator who has scaled five businesses already, the distribution partner who shortcuts a two-year sales cycle, the person who can unlock a market you didn’t even know you should be in. 

One strategic introduction can outperform a six-figure cheque by a wide margin. SMEs forget this because money feels urgent; leverage feels abstract.

Investors pay attention to how you behave over time, especially when nothing exciting is happening. Do you follow up when you say you will? Do you show up prepared? Do you handle small things well or do they always turn into “one of those weeks”?

People who invest in early-stage businesses are signing up for uncertainty. What they’re quietly screening for is whether you reduce friction or add to it. The founder who handles the boring stuff properly tends to feel like a safer long-term bet, even if the idea itself is risky.

That’s what De Niro demonstrated. Same energy, same intent, same behaviour - repeatedly. Over time, that pattern did the convincing.

Founders often chase the big, cinematic business moment - the headline partnership, the flashy pivot, the wild projection. 

Meanwhile, investors quietly note when someone hits deadlines without drama. They track founders who solve problems without burning down their own company culture. Most people overestimate the impact of a grand gesture and underestimate the impact of simply being dependable over time.

Nobu could deliver world-class food in his sleep. Scaling infrastructure was a different story - and that’s exactly what De Niro brought to the table. 

A partner who covers your blind spots essentially extends the lifespan of your business. 

A partner who just mirrors your strengths gives you two of something you already have, which is far less helpful than it sounds. 

Growth comes from plugging gaps, not collecting duplicates.

I learnt a new word yesterday: Mudita.

It means feeling genuine happiness for someone else’s success, without comparison, envy, or the need to turn it into a benchmark for yourself.

I like it because it’s something you see in good teams and healthy businesses. People notice progress, even small wins, and appreciate it for what it is. Someone else doing well doesn’t somehow make your own work less meaningful.

Worth keeping in the vocabulary.

Capital is easy to focus on. What actually takes work is finding people who show up with something useful to offer. Too many cap tables slowly drift into group-project territory.

So, if you’re exploring funding options, my parting advice is to focus less on who can wire money and more on who actually makes your business stronger. Life is too short to collect passive spectators.

Need a sounding board while you’re choosing partners or investors? Reply to this email. Happy to help you filter the useful from the decorative.

Till next time,

James