This year marks a decade since Pittsburgh received its first food hall. In 2015, Smallman Galley launched in the Strip District, described then as a “restaurant incubator/culinary school/food hall hybrid” whose vision was to springboard restaurant concepts into brick-and-mortar establishments.
Smallman was the first venture from the Galley Group, named after co-founders Tyler Benson and Benjamin Mantica’s time as Naval officers, when the pair was inspired by seeing markets and food halls in Southeast Asia. Amidst Pittsburgh’s buzzy, up-and-coming food scene, Smallman attracted national attention, landing Benson on Forbes’ 30 Under 30 Food and Drink list in 2019. The model’s benefits, pitched to potential vendors, were numerous: lower start-up costs, a built-in customer base to build from, and a stable place to test concepts before launching a traditional restaurant.
“It’s gonna catapult their careers to the next level no matter what they do,” Benson told Pittsburgh City Paper in 2016.
Notable alumni include Iron Born Pizza, known for its Detroit-style square pies, which grew from a counter at Smallman in 2017 to a Strip District sit-down restaurant and Millvale take-out spot two years later.
Today, Pittsburgh’s food halls have largely moved away from a business incubator model. The Galley Group’s second project, Federal Galley, launched in 2017, remained after Benson and Mantica’s departure in 2020. Federal Galley — located in Nova Place, the former site of the historic Allegheny Center Mall — still operates as a “restaurant accelerator,” offering chef-owners rent-free space, upkeep, and guidance on building their brands for a 30% revenue share, according to its website.
By contrast, the next generation of food halls embraces a more collective spirit, bringing together established restaurants and up-and-comers with the promise of a joint venture. Last year, Pittsburgh welcomed Novo Asian Food Hall to the Strip District Terminal, in a bid to spotlight a burgeoning community of Asian restaurateurs with seven concepts under one roof. Lawrence Hall followed in April 2024, opening on Butler Street in Lawrenceville and featuring four kitchens with “everyone from food truckers to seasoned pros.”
An industry source, who asked to remain anonymous, reflected on Pittsburgh food halls’ shift.
“Galley Group, back when Smallman first opened, that wasn’t the same thing. That was an incubator, and that did really well, and it spun off a lot of great businesses. But this round of food halls isn’t that,” the source tells City Paper.
Within a year of opening, vendors at both Novo and Lawrence Hall exited, and management at each food hall now faces lawsuits, with court documents detailing internal disputes that even predated their highly publicized launches. CP decided to investigate the allegations of unethical business practices and mismanagement at these halls, as well as their pivot from incubators to standalone dining destinations, and the benefits and drawbacks for vendors and patrons.
“Food halls can be really amazing, tapping into experienced and well-loved restaurant brands in a new location, to gain new followers, to create a solid vibe, all while sharing overhead,” the same anonymous source tells CP. “That sounds amazing, like rising tides [for all the businesses involved]. But I feel like Pittsburgh seems to not have figured it out.”
More Than a Food Court?
The food hall concept is, of course, not new, with origins dating back to open-air markets in Mesopotamia, Rome, and Istanbul. The modern iteration owes its lineage to the mall food court, which originated at the Paramus Park Mall in Paramus, N.J.
Food halls — which house a variety of vendors often in an architecturally novel or historic building — began to boom in the U.S. in the 2010s, driven by millennial foodie culture. While some criticize them as a glorified version of the half-century-old food court — or simply call them “the new food truck” — industry analysts contend food halls elevate the concept by swapping restaurant franchises serving pre-warmed food for local businesses making made-to-order specialties.
In 2016, a report from commercial real estate firm Cushman and Wakefield stated no other retail category had generated as much growth as food-related retail, with food halls leading the trend. According to Cushman and Wakefield’s 2023 State of the Food Halls report, between 2019 and 2023, 343 food halls opened in the U.S., representing 55% growth, and weathering the pandemic “significantly better” than the restaurant industry at large.
The food hall also became a symbol of postindustrial redevelopment, repurposing warehouses, factories, and vacant lots. Popular urbanist and YouTuber CityNerd often jokes that you can pin a city’s stage of redevelopment to when a food hall appears.
Lawrence Hall revamped a site that once housed an abandoned car dealership, and, prior to that, a laundry facility and vaudeville theater dating back to the 1890s. Launched by three Lawrenceville residents — founders Brett Minarik and Phoebe Fraser, and director of operations Adam Harvey — Lawrence Hall billed its leadership as bringing an ideal mix of skills.
Over five years, Lawrence Hall’s management overcame a global pandemic and a protracted battle over parking, finally opening the space in April 2024.
Lawrence Hall opened with four kitchens: LOADED offered American fusion, including loaded potatoes, and TOMA specialized in modern Italian dishes (both operate under Loaded Food Group); La Palapa expanded its Mexican cuisine from its South Side restaurant; and Cuddy’s Soul Food served home-cooked ribs, collard greens, mac and cheese, and a 75-cent wing special. Leona’s Ice Cream, the woman- and LGBTQ-owned local business that had already been selling its popular lactose-free ice cream wholesale for 10 years, also opened its first brick-and-mortar scoop shop inside Lawrence Hall.
By the end of the food hall’s first year, two vendors left, each praising LH for helping to develop their businesses.
TOMA, which departed the food hall in March, wrote on its Instagram page, “We’ve spent the past year bridging the gap between our kitchen table and yours while dining at Lawrence Hall, and we’ve gained invaluable knowledge about which of our dishes warm your heart… Truly, TOMA would not exist were it not for the enthusiasm + encouragement that the concept was met with by LH ownership.”
Leona’s, which announced its move from LH in April to open a different scoop shop, wrote to CP: “We are grateful for the time we spent with our awesome customers and the knowledge we gained throughout the year [at Lawrence Hall]. We learned more than we could have imagined about our ethics as business owners, and what true hospitality should look like. Most importantly, we learned that if we opened up a Leona’s Scoop Shop, people would be excited to come visit us.”
The Leona’s scoop shop is slated to open on Penn Avenue in Garfield by early fall.
Charles Nelson of Cuddy’s — which moved from a candy and convenience store in Homewood — and Jesús Martinez of La Palapa tell CP that, while sales at the food hall were not as strong as they expected in the first year, they have received support from the city, as well as tapped into a new market in Lawrenceville. Martinez says the service at LH is “the best of all the food halls,” and the space works especially well for parties and events.
Nelson tells CP his experience at LH has helped him grow Cuddy’s, and the business “started off as one of the worst in the building” which is now “doing the best in the building at the moment.”
He hopes Cuddy’s next phase will be a brick-and-mortar restaurant, adding, “This is our first year. Business takes a long time. Everybody wants to make a million dollars.”
Cuddy’s, Nelson says, operated in Homewood for seven years, “and I came down here and I made more money in one year than I’ve ever done in those seven years. So I can’t do too much complaining.”
Despite some successes, behind the scenes, a source who asked not to be identified described Lawrence Hall as a “sinking ship.” The first year, they claim, was marked by a tense environment due to an ongoing legal dispute between two of LH’s founding partners.
Less than three months after opening, operations director Adam Harvey had been fired from the food hall, documents filed in Allegheny’s Court of Common Pleas show. (Harvey declined to comment due to the pending legal case; Minarik did not return requests for comment.)
Harvey filed a lawsuit alleging breach of contract and failure to remit wages by Tidemark Partners 1, the food hall’s partnership agreement executed by Harvey and Brett Minarik. (Phoebe Fraser is not named in court documents.) Documents show a breakdown of the partnership, in which Minarik is described as the primary financier.
In the complaint filed in October 2024, Harvey claims he contributed $217,416 to the food hall and undertook responsibilities “with the understanding he would receive future compensation,” including a minimum $75,000 annual salary and a distribution share of the upcoming profits, as described in the partnership agreement. Harvey’s filing states he was making a commensurate salary of $25 per hour from 2019 to April 2024 via “an implied oral contract.”
Harvey alleges in the filing that, approaching the food hall’s soft-opening, Minarik “began to assert more control of the business outside of his role as financier” and “usurped” Harvey as operations director. Harvey alleges he was given a “verbal ultimatum” to sign a resolution agreement with a covenant not to sue, and was removed as a partner before being “unilaterally and wrongfully terminated” in July 2024, depriving him of his partnership share, salary, and accrued wages. Harvey is also suing for attorneys’ fees.
Minarik contends that Tidemark had cause to remove Harvey following “intensifying, prohibited, unprofessional conduct” in June 2024, but “in an effort to wipe the slate clean and give [Harvey] a second chance,” introduced the resolution agreement, which Harvey had the opportunity to review. A month later, Minarik’s filing alleges that Tidemark “became aware of false, slanderous, and derogatory statements made by [Harvey] about Tidemark” and fired him under a non-disparagement clause.
Minarik’s filing further claims that no agreements reference an hourly wage and dismisses Harvey’s “indication that he and Tidemark had some obscure oral contract in place” as “nonsensical.”
The case is still pending and has been assigned to the county’s Commerce and Complex Litigation Center. Harvey is seeking a jury trial.
It’s unclear what effect the litigation will have on the food hall, but one source says the current owners’ lack of industry experience and the desire to quickly recoup costs could negatively impact restaurant partners involved.
“You’re never going to make your money back in the first year,” the anonymous source tells CP. “That’s not food. This is not Wall Street; this is Butler Street.”
Food Fight
Novo Asian Food Hall opened in the Strip District Terminal with an idealistic vision, but was also quickly beset by a legal dispute.
Novo founder Alex Tang, who started the East Liberty sushi restaurant Mola in 2018, told Pittsburgh Quarterly he saw larger cities supporting Asian food halls. As Pittsburgh grew and diversified, he envisioned a similar venture devoted to Asian American and Pacific Islander (AAPI) cuisine.
A press release claimed Novo would serve dishes from “Korean delicacies to Vietnamese street food,” and that the 8,600-square-foot space would feature vibrant murals painted by Carnegie Mellon students, neon signs, and hanging red lanterns to “add excitement and energy.”
In addition to a central bar, vendors included a mix of long-established restaurants and newer concepts. The seven original food stalls were Sumi’s Cakery, which since closed its Squirrel Hill location in Dec. 2024 after 12 years; Teachana, a boba tea and ramen shop; Tan Lac Vien, a Vietnamese bistro with a location in Squirrel Hill; Korea Garden 2, which relocated to Novo after 22 years in Oakland; Kung Fu Chicken, which launched a Shadyside location in March, one year after opening at Novo; and Lolo’s Kusina, billed as a “treasure trove of Filipino street food delights,” which has operated a restaurant, Lola’s Eatery, in Lawrenceville since 2019. Tang also opened a second Mola location, Mola II, becoming a vendor and co-owner.
According to some food vendors, the vision of Novo as a cooperative enterprise has not come to pass. In November 2024, eight months after the food hall’s grand opening, four stall operators filed a lawsuit against Tang and his company, Asian 168, in the Allegheny Court of Common Pleas.
Among several counts in the filing, plaintiffs representing Sumi’s Cakery, Kung Fu Chicken, Teachana, and Tang’s co-owners in Mola II allege breach of contract, fraudulent representation, and a fiduciary failure to remit profits — including those made at Novo’s central bar — that they contend were to be equally shared among the businesses. The filing suggests it remained unclear if there were profits, as Tang allegedly did not provide accounting information. (Sumi Chun, owner of Sumi’s, declined to comment, and other parties involved in the lawsuit did not respond to requests for comment by press time.)
The complaint accuses Tang of mismanaging Asian 168 to intentionally “distress” the plaintiffs’ businesses so he could “take over” their slots in the food hall without payment, part of a “scheme to defraud” them using his position as Novo’s manager. Those who filed the lawsuit further claim they signed onto the food hall believing they were equity owners in Asian 168, and, after investing more than $300,000 each, later discovered they’d been excluded from ownership or interest rights. They also allege Tang excluded them from operations, including a point-of-sale system, and promoted businesses unequally on the food hall’s website and delivery services like DoorDash. The case is reportedly in mediation.
In June, Lolo’s Kusina announced its permanent closure at Novo to refocus on its sister restaurant, Lola’s Eatery.
“We entered the Novo with sincere hope: to help spotlight Filipino cuisine in a bold new space,” reads a post on Lolo’s Instagram page. “What began with trust, a handshake, and a shared vision quickly unraveled. It became clear that the environment created by the project’s leadership (someone we once considered a friend) was no longer safe, sustainable, or aligned with our values.”
Lolo’s owner, Maximilian Blume, tells CP he experienced issues similar to those detailed in the lawsuit, including exclusion from Novo’s point-of-sale system and a lack of transparency about accounting and profit sharing.
“An owner needs to be able to see the books, POS backend, and accounting, and that was kept hidden from us, and still was on our exit,” Blume says.
Though Blume and his co-owner and partner, Zoë, had an established restaurant at Lola’s, “we went into Novo looking to start up a new business venture called Lolo’s … pushing a new concept,” he explains. “And I think some of the attraction with a food hall is [still] that incubator-ness.”
“The pitch was: hey, come here, we’re having more options. We’re going to be in a more walkable location,” Blume says. “There’s apartments going up, the [disposable] income in the Strip [District] is higher. There’s a good likelihood that you will attract [customers] and you’ll do better in business.”
Blume says he considers Mola to be a “top-notch” restaurant and was excited to work with Tang. Shortly after Novo’s launch, culture and personality clashes began to reveal themselves, both among the vendors and with management.
“We went in thinking that we’re going to be part owner, and as part owner, we’ll have one-seventh say in how the business is operated,” Blume says. “I think what happened was there were seven heads talking, and there was no cohesion. [We were] not really understanding these seven [don’t] actually hold the same weight.”
Blume says that, during disputes about marketing, Lolo’s ideas were shot down and outsourced to a marketing team (though he acknowledges there was a marketing push for Lolo’s). They were also “butting heads” about changing a staple side dish, Lolo’s garlic rice.
“We talked about this Asian food hall about being authentic to ourselves. Let’s be authentic ourselves,” Blume says.
After “lack of trust, tensions in the water, [and] a stressful situation, my partner and I decided, hey, you know what? This is not working out. This is not what we were told,” Blume says.
Following what the closure announcement described as “months of exhausting legal back and forth,” Lolo’s departed the food hall.
“We still mourn it, because the idea of what it could have been would have been amazing,” Blume says. “We really wanted to push a small authentic Filipino restaurant in there.”
But the experience did serve as an incubator in a sense, sharpening their focus and clarifying what they want out of their flagship restaurant. Lola’s is expanding its roster of community events, recently hosting Ube Fest in July. Originally planned for Novo, the festival turned out 42 vendors to celebrate the purple yam, Filipino food, culture, music, and local businesses in Lawrenceville.
“It was a showcase of how you can push positive energy into something like that,” Blume says.
This article appears in Aug 20-26, 2025.
