Jamawn Woods came into America’s Next Great Restaurant with a simple concept: Give people fried chicken and waffles. But what led to his win on the show’s first season finale Sunday night all came down to his gumbo moment.

Like any savvy entrepreneur, he was smart enough to take advantage of a dish that worked as soon as he got real feedback from his customers when, early on in the competition, he realized that the crowd-pleasing gumbo he’d concocted just might make his culinary dreams come true. “It hit me: How long can I continue to make wings and waffles before the investors kick me off the show,” Woods said during a press conference today, when three Soul Daddy restaurants opened in Los Angeles, New York, and Minneapolis. “Once I took [judge-investor Lorena Garcia’s] advice to make my food healthier, I changed my concept a little.”

The ability to change out their concepts and adjust on the fly played out big during the competition, whose finalists, along with Woods, were the cautious Sudhir Kandula—who wanted to introduce consumers to Indian cuisine with his Spice Coast, but who, in the finale, eliminated any notion of curry—and Joseph Galluzzi, the meatball aficionado who’d hoped to score big with his Brooklyn Meatball Co. (formerly Saucy Balls) but whose attempts at incorporating sit-down service in the finale helped botch his orders.

But just as significant as the contestants’ culinary concepts was the notion behind the show itself.

America’s Next Great Restaurant may come to be known in reality-format circles as America’s Next Great Reality Show Concept. To viewers, the allure of the show—thanks to today’s recessionary mind-set—was that the judge-investors had a dog in the fight. The canine, in this case, was their own cash. As venture capitalists, the quartet—Garcia, chef-owner Bobby Flay, Chipotle founder Steve Ells, and celebrity chef Curtis Stone—spoke plainly on-air about the investment risks that often plague the food business. Their comments and dialogues were nightmarishly sobering for entrepreneurs in any sector considering financial backing from outside sources.

“If you really believe in a project, investing in the idea is moving it [one] step forward,” Garcia told Portfolio.com about the show’s judges-as-investors model. “It’s a different approach to a reality show, and it gives a little more personality and depth to the competition.” When asked just how much money they each had put into the project, NBC declined to comment.

What swayed Garcia towards selecting Woods, 34, was a combination of factors. “It was about the menu, his leadership, and the concept that took my vote,” she says. “Through the competition, he’s the one, through my eyes, who showed the most growth. He was able to take our advice and apply it to [his] concept without losing himself in it.” She also noted his team spirit, a skill she suggested was natural to Woods from his playing competitive football.

In addition to the judge-investors’ keen observations how the on-air focus groups gravitated to Woods’ concept, the health factor of Soul Daddy’s cuisine also mattered, she said. Noting how soul food typically tends to be associated with fried and heavy offerings, she was impressed that, in the end, Woods opted to eliminate an iconic fried item from the menu. “To me, it was a huge step for him to sacrifice his fried chicken,” says Garcia. “We’re talking about soul food, and he’s taking fried chicken out of the equation.”

If Woods nailed flexibility when he tossed out the greasy bird, he learned another huge lesson during the competition. “The thing I took for granted when I was doing my [catering] business at home is detail,” Woods told Portfolio. “Just one mistake, or you’re not paying attention to one thing, can just blow a customer’s spirits and your restaurant or service. I learned from Lorena to make sure everything is good and perfect.”

In the end, ANGR’s decision to crown Soul Daddy may have been a tip of the hat to patriotism. “For our first season, it has to be about American food,” Garcia said. “We needed to make a statement—at least I did—to present a food so relatable to everybody, but in a healthier way.”