ASHEVILLE - The owners of Doc Chey's Noodle House recently announced the imminent closure of the restaurant, to much wailing and gnashing of teeth from Asheville's dining public.

Sept. 3 will be the last day of business for the popular downtown spot, known for its affordable noodle bowls.

Beneath the borderline despondence following that announcement ran a quiet but palpable subtext: Why on Earth would anyone close such a successful restaurant? And why wouldn't they sell it?

There are several reasons to close, explained Brook Messina, who owns Doc Chey's with his business and life partner Ellie Feinroth.

One is the uncontrollable march of time. No one has as much of it as they'd like —especially when they've decided they no longer want to spend so much of it in a restaurant.

Messina and Feinroth own the Biltmore Avenue building where they've run the restaurant for the past 15 years. They can lease that out, and several apartments on upper floors provide another source of income. Messina remains a partner in two Doc Chey's restaurants in Atlanta, too.

In their 50s and 60s respectively, Messina and Feinroth said they're ready to downsize.

As for selling? They don't want to list the business. They don't want to find a broker.

And even if all that fell into place, both owners believe most aspiring entrepreneurs wouldn't be able to do what it takes to run Doc Chey's, with its 15-year-old systems feeding lines that sometimes reach the sidewalk.

"People generally don't get how difficult it is to run a kitchen like ours," Feinroth said. "They don't see that side ever, unless they're working here. They just see the bowl of pad Thai they're eating, and have no idea what it takes to get it to the table."

The Doc Chey's machine is a well-oiled one, but it takes a lot of elbow grease, she said. "If Brook hadn't been here all these years working behind the scenes, we wouldn't have made it this long."

For her part, Feinroth imagines a smooth transition to a new owner would require at least a yearlong commitment on her part, which she's not prepared to make.

Owner detachment spells almost-certain failure for a restaurant, Messina said several days earlier, driving through the mountains between his Atlanta and Asheville eateries.

Messina is one of the partners in the Atlanta Doc Chey's. He knows what it takes to run the popular noodle shop — and he knows it's not easy.

"Part of what makes this business so difficult is that we’re not in the corner sipping wine," he said, nodding to some people's impressions of restaurateur life. "We’re taking care of the day-to-day details and dealing with staffing issues and managing employees. It takes a lot of heart and soul to make that work."

Messina said he believes it would be difficult to find the right person to take over the Asheville eatery, to invest the time it takes. "We couldn’t in good conscience take people’s money, knowing the chances of them succeeding would not be very good."

And if they had the money to throw away? "My question was always, if someone has the money it takes to buy this, why would they want to work this hard?" Messina said.

Behind the scenes

"Having a restaurant is a grind, a 24-hour-a day, 7-day-a-week job," said Ben Mixson, owner of the rapidly growing White Duck Taco Shop, which has three locations in Asheville alone.

Restaurant ownership, especially in Asheville, can get put on a pedestal, he said.

Even if it starts off as a dream job, priorities can change. Sometimes, he said, people simply get tired.

"People have different reasons for doing things in their life, and you never really know what's going on behind the scenes unless you talk to the owner," he said.

"But to close a business in downtown Asheville while the market is strong is a strong statement from the owners: what we want to do is enjoy the rest of our life."

While the cost of goods and rents rise, and staffing becomes ever more challenging, it becomes increasingly hard to run a profitable restaurant, even with — and sometimes because of — Asheville's popularity.

Most profit margins are slim and getting slimmer, Mixson said, while menu pricing, by and large, remains fixed. Customers have only so much tolerance for price hikes.

Still, he said, closing a restaurant is a bittersweet thing. Mixson should know: a self-avowed pizza nerd, he and his partner Laura Reuss shuttered their beloved Pizza Pura in 2015, less than two years after it opened.

Mixson and Reuss, caught up in the minutiae of their expanding taco empire, simply got busy. "If I were to go back in time, we wouldn't have sold it," Mixson said. "We miss it."

Even if leaving a business on your own terms is the best way to go out, the way the dining public feels is a different story. "I don't think anyone's happy about losing that restaurant," Mixson said. "The food is good."

Saying goodbye

Messina acknowledged staffing the restaurant could be tough. He said increases in operating costs ate away at profits. And he never could quite figure out the right way to properly address the issues of financial inequity that can sometimes pop up in restaurants.

He said he and his partner didn't make the decision to part ways with the Asheville restaurant lightly. They've talked and worried about it for at least five years.

But he leaves the business with a clear conscience and a deep appreciation for the customers, some of whom he's watched grow up, and his employees.

He also nurses a desire to connect with that same community on, perhaps, a more personal level.

"We have our heads so buried in the business," he said. "It's nice to get your head above it and remember that you're part of a community."

Feinroth said serving the community consistently good, affordable food is one of the highlights of her career, which helps explain the nearly anachronistic prices on the menu — and the dining public's mourning, too.

"Meeting and dealing with the public and all the customers who are locals, I enjoy that whole aspect of the business," she said. "I've always liked customer service. It has its moments but, generally, I like it."

As ready as she is to move on, leaving the staff behind is hard. Harder than working every day of the week, even.

"A lot are our friends at this point," she said. "They've become good friends throughout the years, and kind of stuck by our side through good times — and not so good."

Doc Chey's is at 37 Biltmore Ave. Starting Aug. 7, the restaurant will no longer be open for lunch. After that, hours will be 4-10 p.m., Monday, Thursday and Sunday; 4-11 p.m. Friday and Saturday, and closed Tuesday and Wednesday, until the restaurant's final day on Sept. 3.