Why Raising Cane's Was Projected To Fail (And How Its Chicken Fingers Prevailed)

Raising Cane's is now a fast food powerhouse, with more than 850 locations and a loyal fanbase that swears by its chicken fingers, crinkle-cut fries, buttery Texas toast, and signature Cane's Sauce. But when the idea first surfaced, few believed it could succeed — especially not with a menu this simple.

When Todd Graves pitched the idea of a chicken finger-only fast food restaurant after graduating from college, most people around him doubted the concept. He got support from business mentors, but family friends, community members, and even an LSU professor were skeptical. The business plan, presented in his business partner Craig Silvey's class, earned a B-minus — lowest in the class — not because the plan lacked detail, but because the professor thought a stripped-down chicken concept wouldn't fly.

The chain began in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, where Graves had grown up surrounded by Cajun flavors and a passion for food. He loved cooking, worked in restaurants throughout college, and even managed kitchen duties at his fraternity house. It was there, while studying at the University of Georgia, that Graves started envisioning a restaurant built for students: a place that was affordable, fast, and consistently delicious. Graves knew the student crowd — what they craved after nights out, what they could afford, and how late they stayed up. He wanted to build something for them. The simplicity others saw as a flaw was, to him, the selling point — just quality chicken fingers, fries, toast, slaw, and a sauce that hit hard. He knew it could work, even if no one else did.

With no startup capital and rejection from every bank in town, Graves did what few budding restaurateurs would. He worked 90-hour weeks in a Los Angeles oil refinery, then spent a season doing dangerous commercial fishing in Alaska. While in LA, he also saw firsthand how In-N-Out Burger had built a cult following around a stripped-down menu. This was a sign that simplicity could be a winning formula. Between both gigs, he scraped together $50,000. Add some SBA funds, personal loans, and help from a few former boiler-making coworkers, and he finally had just enough to open a restaurant.

In 1996, the first Raising Cane's opened near LSU. It was scrappy. No signage, no marketing, just Graves on the fryer and co-founder Silvey at the register. The place didn't even open until 10 p.m. on its first night because they were still setting up the registers. But word spread fast among LSU students. They knew Cane's stayed open late, the food hit every time, and the vibe was pure college-town comfort. That first month, they made a $30 profit. But it was enough. They were in the black, and Graves knew he had something real.

From the start, Graves obsessed over quality. He worked closely with vendors to source the premium chicken tenderloin cut used in Cane's tenders — prized for its soft texture and mild flavor — denser Texas toast made from pull-apart dough balls, and Southern-style crinkle-cut fries that stayed crisp. The sauce was developed in-house through constant tinkering, with one secret ingredient that adds a bold umami punch. That obsessive focus became Cane's trademark.

Even before Hurricane Katrina temporarily shut down most of their Louisiana stores in 2005, Cane's had already begun expanding into Texas. By 2025, Cane's had over 850 locations across 44 states, posted its first billion-dollar revenue quarter, and remains entirely privately owned — Graves still holds 90% of the company. He never took it public, never sold out, and never added a salad. The same menu from 1996 still works (except at one Indiana location, where a lease dispute bizarrely banned the chain from selling chicken). Turns out, betting everything on chicken fingers wasn't such a wild idea after all.