Park Slope Reader

Angela Xu

Mockingbird Takes Flight

By Filed Under: Eat Local, The Reader On Food

Since each person’s decision to embark on a sober journey is unique, the founders of a new zero-proof cocktail bar set out to create a space in the neighborhood where everyone is welcome. Together, they’re pouring uniquely crafted concoctions while curating an environment that will both quench your thirst and satisfy your craving for community.

The newest bar on 7th Avenue is doing things a little bit differently. Mockingbird, founded by Evan Clark and Coulton Venuto, is a booze-free bar focused on serving unique craft cocktails in an inviting space. I recently chatted with the duo to learn about the inspiration behind the bar, their personal journeys with sobriety, and their uniquely scientific approach to creating delicious zero-proof cocktails.

Angela: Hey Evan and Coulton, thanks for taking the time to chat today. Could you tell me a little bit about yourselves and what led you to open a non-alcoholic cocktail bar?

Evan: So Coulton and I have been friends for forever. I have been sober pretty much my entire life, and Colton decided to go sober last year.

We basically saw that the options for spaces that were kind of upscale and more adult-oriented were really lacking in the city. Think like a good date night spot that’s cozy and also serves really good drinks. There are a few in Manhattan that are more dive bar-esque, but we wanted to do something that was a little bit different.

Coulton: Plus I feel like non-alcoholic options at restaurants and bars feel kind of like an afterthought. They’re not really doing anything creative, and I don’t fault them for that. But we wanted to create a space that’s dedicated to creative non-alcoholic drinks.

Angela: What are some examples of creative cocktails on your menu?

Coulton: So this one is pretty polarizing, but it’s kind of like a Ramos Gin Fizz. We use heavy cream and egg whites and we charge it with nitrous oxide in a whipped creamer, which creates this kind of bitter, sweet milkshake drink. 

Another one is our take on a spritz. Instead of using non-alcoholic wine, we use verjus, which is made from pre-harvest wine grapes. Using our special carbonation system, we pressurize the drink and then give it a shake and it’s much more interesting than your average spritz.

Those are just two things on the menu. We only have five drinks on the menu now.

Angela: It sounds like your menu is very thoughtfully curated in terms of flavors and preparations.

Coulton: Definitely. We’re leveraging N/A (non-alcoholic) spirits, which, on their own, frankly aren’t good. You need to know how to work with them, and what to mix with them.

And we’re doing unique things with tea concentrates. In traditional cocktails, you use syrups to cut the ethanol from the liquor. But with non-alcoholic drinks, you don’t necessarily have that component. So we’re leaning away from syrups and more into teas.

We’ve spent a lot of time being very meticulous about the flavor profiles of everything, and making sure that it’s something you’re going to sip. 

Angela: How do you make sure your drinks are more sippable than guzzleable?

Coulton:  If you’re just mixing a bunch of juices, you’re going to be able to down it immediately. So we play with carbonation, with the Perlini system. We play with bitterness, with bitter spices like Junshin, Wyrmwood, and Dandelion root. There are so many different bittering agents you can use to make it so that it’s hard to drink really quickly.

Angela: That’s a really layered approach to making cocktails. Do either of you have previous bartending experience?

Evan: My background is actually in biochemistry, in applied molecular biology. I’ve taken a lot of the principles of traditional laboratory science – of experimentation, of knowing how things interact at a chemical level – and used them to drive a lot of our understanding of how all these ingredients work. For example, which flavors work together or what specifics a concentrate needs to have to match a certain flavor profile.

It’s a very technologically focused approach, and there’s a lot of time spent on the minutiae. If a note is not quite where we want it to be, we adjust it bit by bit, ingredient by ingredient, to get to the profile that we deem as consumable for everyone.

Angela: That’s fascinating. What about you Coulton?

Coulton: I work as a software engineer. So our menu is smaller because we both have day jobs and we’re working 12-14 hour days. But we’re doing this because we love it – I nerd out on the cocktail science stuff, which is why I dipped my toes in this venture.

Angela: Could you share a bit about your journeys to sobriety?

Evan: Mine is simple. I used to work in nightlife; I used to DJ many late hours for many years. When I turned 21, I was just like, “I don’t think I need to drink.” It was kind of something where I decided, “If I don’t miss it because I haven’t tried it, then I’m not gonna miss it if I don’t try it.” 

Coulton: For me, I stopped drinking a little over a year ago due to some health concerns. And I think that everyone has a different relationship with alcohol. That’s something that we’re hearing every day at the bar, about how alcohol has affected people, both directly and indirectly.

Angela: Do you also offer non-cocktail non-alcoholic options?

Coulton: Part of the reason why I wanted to open the space was because I discovered all of these great non-alcoholic options that didn’t exist two or three years ago. The non-alcoholic spirits, the beers, the wines – there’s this whole new emphasis on health and wellness. If not full sobriety, then drinking in moderation.

So that’s why I wanted to create this space to share all of these great products. There’s all these great non-alcoholic beers and wines that aren’t widely distributed. And we really wanted to highlight small businesses, things that you can’t easily find anywhere else. For example, we’re introducing a new IPA out of Portland that is currently only sold in Oregon State. 1911 Cider is a de-alcoholized cider made outside of Syracuse, which is pretty rare.

Angela: So is your palette and sense of curation mainly influenced by you finding alternatives for yourself and exploring what you like?

Coulton: Basically, yes. But it’s funny, I lean more on the sweeter side of drinks and Evan does not. So he’s pushing my boundaries with some of our drinks.

We make a pretty good clarified Bloody Mary. We use a consommé with traditional Bloody Mary spices and clarify it with egg whites. Then we add the Pentire Adrift, which is a more savory spirit, as well as hot sauce, soy sauce – a lot of things with umami. And we’re working on a few more cocktails for the Winter menu that will be more on the savory side.

We’re really looking forward to being almost experimental in the non-alcoholic space, which I feel is lacking in New York in general.

Angela: Beyond filling this need for elevated non-alcoholic cocktails, how did you think about providing an alcohol-free space for the community?

Evan: We designed it to be like a cocktail bar just because that just alludes to a more adult experience. We invested heavily in the booth seating because we wanted people to be comfortable. And we also wanted a fairly large bar for people who come alone to be able to chat with other people who are there alone. 

We’ve seen quite a bit of people come by themselves and chat with the bartender or with other people for the whole night. Which is really cool and not something that we planned for. But I think building those connections without alcohol is so cool and so rewarding.

Coulton: I can point to several examples of groups of sober people coming in and saying, “Oh my God, we deserve a space like this too.” We’ve seen a wide variety of people come in: people who drink, people who don’t drink, people who just aren’t drinking for the night, people who are pregnant. So I feel like this space is for everyone.

Angela: How did you choose Park Slope?

Coulton: We both live in this part of Brooklyn, but we weren’t initially planning on choosing Park Slope. We saw this as the end goal of what we wanted to do. But we were just exploring and looking at spaces, and we just fell in love with the neighborhood: the proximity to the park, all the cool restaurants and bars on Fifth and Seventh Avenues. There’s all sorts of cool new restaurants, bars, mom-and-pop shops. It just felt right.

Angela: What would you say has been the biggest challenge so far, and what is your biggest goal for the future?

Evan: The biggest challenge so far has just been getting open, because there are so many small things you have to deal with. It has been so much work just getting to a place where we could start serving. But we opened mid-January and we’re actually seeing more traffic than we were expecting. Friday, Saturday night, it’s usually full house.

And we’re seeing people come back and become regulars. We have a lot of people in the neighborhood who are really trying to find some space that they can have to themselves outside of the home. So the positive outlook is that there is definitely the need for our bar and there are definitely people who support it.

Going forward, our biggest goal is to be the neighborhood spot where people are gonna come, they’re gonna get some food around the corner, they’re gonna meet their friends, and they’re gonna be able to have a nice night out. I think that will be a big win for us.

Queer Soup Night

By Filed Under: The Reader On Food

Serving Solidarity in these Trying Times

In the wake of the 2016 election, Liz Alpern knew she needed to tap into the power of community and hosted the first ever Queer Soup Night. 8 years filled with countless bowls of warm meals coupled with tens of thousands of dollars in donations to local organizations, Queer Soup Night is a true testament to the expansive impact we can make when we gather together with spoons in hand and open hearts.

Earlier this summer, I had the opportunity to chat with Liz Alpern, chef and founder of Queer Soup Night, a project that was set in motion after the results of the 2016 election. I recently reconnected with her to catch up after the results of the most recent one. As we head into winter, and an unpredictable four years, I want to share our conversations with you. Liz’s words remind me of how soup can be not only a wholesome source of nourishment, but a form of solidarity, and how we have to keep showing up for our local communities now more than ever to collectively build the world we believe in. I hope these interviews bring you comfort like they did for me

Angela: Hi Liz, thanks for chatting with me today. One of the first things I learned about you was your passion for soup. Could you share more about why you love soup so much?

Liz: I’ve always had a passion for soup, almost comically so. I’ve always loved soup as a medium for sharing culture and stories and also comfort. And I love how playful the format is.

I always wanted to do something with soup, but I struggled to put my finger on what it was. You know, I work in food full-time and I cook and I do events, but I was like, “What’s compelling enough for people to come to a place for soup?”

How did the election in 2016 inform your thinking?

After the 2016 election, it became immediately clear that queer folks, LGBTQ folks, were feeling particularly vulnerable. Like, are all our rights gonna be rolled back? It’s almost hard to imagine how scary that felt.

There was a cafe that I was working in at the time, and the cafe owner mentioned to me that the space was free in the evenings if I ever wanted to do an event there. And the idea to take over this coffee shop and throw a soup party for queers kind of came together at that moment.

There was something that unlocked in my mind, like, soup makes sense to bring people together in this time of feeling vulnerable.

And how did that first event go?

It was a really great gathering. I made three soups with some help from friends, and friends of friends came. The energy was really amazing. We ended up raising a lot more money than I expected.

And it also happened to be the weekend – and this certainly couldn’t have been planned – when Trump had established all these travel bans for people coming from majority Muslim countries. And so people were coming from the airport after protesting at the airport and having a bowl of soup at the end of the day.

So it ended up being a really successful first event, and it was very clear that this was something we could replicate.

And now it’s in eleven (thirteen, as of November 2024) cities across the country. Can you talk about how you grew the organization?

We developed pretty slowly and with a lot of intention. The party first moved to another city because one of the founding people who’d been organizing, moved to a new city. So we tested the waters and did two events there.

Before long, a friend of mine who’s a chef out in Portland, Oregon, was like, I kind of love this idea. So the first two chapters in Gainesville, Florida, and Portland, Oregon were started by chefs I knew personally, who really took time to learn the model.

After that, we started getting contacted by people we didn’t know. That’s how lots of these things grow: they start with your network, and then they go one rung out at a time. And that was when we really had to establish what this was. You know.

what are the guidelines?

Could you speak more to the guidelines? For example, are non-queer guests allowed to attend or to cook?

The short answer is yes, anyone can attend. We have always had in our mission statement that all are welcome at Queer Soup Night.

We have this threefold mission, and it has been unwavering: 

Strengthen your local queer community

Raise money for organizations in your place, and

Lift up the chefs in your place where you live.

At the same time, we definitely are not going out there looking for any chef. We really try to seek out queer chefs, but there have been plenty of instances over the years where someone who’s not queer-identified makes a soup. So I would say, 85% of the time everyone involved is queer, and there’s about 15% of people who may not be queer-identified, but are strong allies.

Bringing it back to the soup a little bit, I’m curious to hear what you think is the unique power of soup to express and also to connect.

No matter what culture you’re from – whatever your background is, whatever your story is, however you were raised – you are going to associate soup with comfort, with really deep nourishment, and with a feeling of home.

I’m an Eastern European Jew and I love matzo ball soup and chicken soup. They call it Jewish penicillin. But through Queer Soup Night, we’ve had Mexican chicken soup. We’ve had Vietnamese chicken soup. We’ve had Filipino chicken soup. We’ve had Korean chicken soup. We’ve had so many different versions of the same theme, right?

And the theme is, hey, this is what I’m going to serve you and it’s going to feel really good. It’s going to make your house smell like comfort and it’s going to stick to your clothes in a good way.

What has been your experience of being able to feed people such nourishing food?

You know, we’ve been doing Queer Soup Night for eight years, and I have never made money off of it. It’s purely a passion project for me; seeing people feel nourished by the food that we make for them is extremely motivating.

One of the things that I really like about Queer Soup Night is that it gives you an automatic inroad to chat with other guests. Soup is much more relatable than a lot of foods and easier for people to talk about, even if they’re not culinary minded. So I would say another part of the reward is just seeing other people be involved in conversations around soup. And that is another layer of nourishment, the connection.

Could you talk a bit about the collective impact that you’ve had on local grassroots movements here in New York?

Just in the last six months, we raised funds for more than 15 different local organizations. And I would say collectively, probably somewhere around $20,000 just in the last six months. 

We raised over $50,000 in total in 2023. And that came from thousands of donations that were $12. That’s the kind of thing that I think of as collective impact – that you can show up to an event and pay $12 to $20. And then when it comes to the end of the year, this collective queer community has raised over $50,000 for different organizations.

And we select organizations that could really use a small amount of funding, where $500 to $2,000 would make a huge difference.

What kind of initiatives do the recipients of the donations revolve around?

Our only criteria is that they have to be local. We don’t send funds outside of the community. So your $12 stays right in your community.

Now we are defining “community” by geographic boundaries and you could definitely say that community is so many different things, but our goal with Queer Soup Night was always to build something that strengthens IRL connections.

I really admire the focus on the local.

I will tell you, it’s not always easy to restrain yourself, because there are so many places that our money needs to go. But especially when our eyes are on global events unfolding, it is so important to remember all the work that’s being done locally.

Like we, as an organization, basically started during the (2016) Trump presidency out of outrage and fear and concern and resistance. But we always said, “This party is not going to become irrelevant when Trump is no longer president.” There were a thousand things we were activated about before, and there are a thousand things we’re going to be activated about.

When Biden became president, no one was like “I think we’re just going to chill.” And look at where we are in 2024 facing another.

 

Chat with Marty

By Filed Under: Eat Local, Park Slope Eater

If you’ve walked down 7th Avenue in the past month, you’ve likely seen lines wrapped around a colorful storefront. Inside, old newspaper clippings pay homage to the restaurant’s humble origins as a pushcart while the decor emulates a taqueria you might find in LA. In the window, a woman hand presses corn tortillas as burritos the size of your forearm are served on grandma-style plates. This is La Taq. 

Owner Marty Medina is no stranger to this neighborhood. La Taq originally opened in 1986 and was a Park Slope fixture for 25 years before closing in 2011. Marty thought that was that for his California-style taco and burrito joint, but when a space became available one door over from its original location, he knew he had to take it. I recently had the opportunity to chat with Marty about childhood food memories, reclaiming burritos, and his vision for La Taq this time around.

Marty Medina in the kitchen at La Taq

Angela: Hey Marty, thanks so much for chatting with me and for sharing your pork chili verde.

Marty: My pleasure. You know chili verde and chili colorado were two of my favorites growing up. The chili verde came from my father’s mother in Jalisco, and the chili colorado came from my mother’s mother who was from New Mexico.

Tell me about the food you ate growing up in California.

First of all, it was very good food, very wholesome and fresh. The one thing I remember most is the kitchen table. My mother was known for eating extremely hot peppers, and she used to cry every night while eating dinner. When we were kids, we learned right away not to dip our finger into the chili and then wipe our eyes. So I would say that it could be a little dangerous at the table with the peppers. But we ate really well.

It sounds like your experience of food was almost like a love language, the way you sat down at the table everyday and enjoyed family recipes together.

Absolutely, those were very memorable moments. Food is a big part of our culture – it’s sacred to us the way it brings people together. When we were kids, we would go to the tortillerias where they made tortillas, and we would buy carnitas by the pound and buy all the trimmings with it, and make our own tacos at our table. You don’t see that here as much.

How would you describe the difference between Mexican food in California vs in New York?

New York is still a little behind in terms of products, but they’re catching up. From what I understand, New York City has the largest mixed Latino population in the country, but Los Angeles was the mecca for Mexicans. And so in East Los Angeles, where a lot of my family came from, we had everything. When I moved to New York in the 80s, I couldn’t find avocados. I had to go to a Chinese grocery store to get avocados.

Nowadays, you can go to a place called Sunset Park. We went to a poultry shop on 20th Street the other day and bought live chickens and made mole from scratch. And the chickens were fabulous. They gave us the whole thing – the head, the feet – it was everything but alive. You can get good stuff in New York City now, but you have to know where to go. And hopefully some people feel that way about us. When I came to Brooklyn, nobody even knew what the burrito was.

When and how did you learn to cook?

When I was a child, by sitting and watching. My mother would make flour tortillas, and I’d eat them as fast as she was making them. And my father went to Uruapan in Mexico to learn how to make carnitas. He was an excellent cook. I learned a lot from both of my parents.

I also remember the field workers, who would come from Mexico to work the season. They would bring a lot of the food that they grew up with, and I learned by watching them cook. Like barbacoa, which was wrapped in a special way. And birria – real birria – which is made with goat and is traditionally cooked in the ground. Birria is very popular right now, but most places are serving shredded beef, which is not authentic.

How do you think about authenticity when it comes to your menu?

Well, what’s authentic for us is what we grew up eating in California. Like we’re serving in chile verde today. You’re not going to go to a restaurant just anywhere and find chile verde on the menu. It’s very uncommon. Same with chile colorado.

Also the ingredients. Back in the day, lard was frowned upon, but now it’s okay. I used to be afraid to put lard in the refried beans, so I used vegetable oil. That’s not refried beans! Now I’m serving real refried beans.

And how did you go from sitting and watching other cooks to working in and owning restaurants here in New York?

When I moved here, I was working on the cruise ship as a waiter. There were 50 waiters in one dining room and we served 1000 people for dinner each night. Well one night a really cute girl from Brooklyn and her girlfriends were sitting in my section, and I got to know her and we sort of hit it off really well. So I followed her here. About a year later, we got married, and I told her about this idea I had to open up a pushcart (because I couldn’t afford anything else). A couple years later in 1989, I had 

enough money saved up, and her family supported me with the project. Her mother used to help me cook in her home kitchen and load up the pushcart.

Was it Mexican food then?

Yeah, burritos. I was testing them out to see if they would work here and two days later, I had a line around the corner. That led me to my first storefront on Bergen and Court. And then I came here, next door, in 1990, and then there was another location on 7th Avenue. Then we opened two in Manhattan, one in Cobble Hill, and one in Brooklyn Heights.

So it was a huge success, but I was the only guy in town so it wasn’t competitive then. I didn’t know what I was doing, but like with anything, you have to go through an education process. Hopefully you make a lot of mistakes, because that means you’re learning.

Where it all began on the streets of Brooklyn

Where do you draw your inspiration from for your menu?

I think one of the best Mexican meals that I ever had in my life was in Monterrey, Mexico. I was about six or seven, and the woman went out to the field, got the corn, processed it and made corn tortillas. And she made eggs with chorizo and refried beans to go with them. I’ll never forget the taste of that meal. It was so simple, cooked over a wood fire. That’s what inspires me. 

I enjoy going to fancy restaurants, but it’s ultimately street food that inspires me, and that’s what I try to serve here. I try to stay focused on that by keeping a small menu. I’m not falling into any trends. There are so many trends these days, and the guy that tries to do everything doesn’t really accomplish anything. It’s the guy who focuses on one thing that’s gonna really hit the target.

And how would you characterize the one thing that you’re doing?

Carnitas. We’re making them like they do in Michoacan, which is a state in Mexico that’s known for its carnitas. We use a big copper kettle and the pork is cooked in its own fat. You can do anything with food, and that’s the beauty of it. It’s like chemistry. And as humans, we’re geniuses when it comes to putting food together. Like, where did they come up with these ingredients to put together? Incredible. So yeah, we’re really nailing the carnitas.

What made you decide back in 2011 that it was time to go?

The landlord jacked up the rent, so I left. But if you let the dust settle on any bad situation, something good may come from it. I sold this business right before COVID, and then ran into the owner of Cousin John’s Bakery. We’ve been friends for 30 years. He said he was moving to their current location on the corner and I asked him what he was going to do with this spot that we’re in. We looked at each other and we started laughing, because we knew we were going to do something, and here we are. We did it. And it took a long time to open; a lot of heart and soul went into this place. We didn’t just slap it together and start serving food. There was a lot more involved than just the food.

Do you feel like right back up, where you left off? Or are you trying to do things differently?

I’ve made a lot of mistakes, and I’ve learned from them. We’re elevated. We have history here in the city. And like I said, our menu is very small, and we’re staying focused. And to me, our burritos are the highlight. I grew up eating burritos more than anything else. It was our lunch in the field: a tortilla wrap around last night’s dinner. And we used to be made fun of for it, you know, so now it’s payback time. I was called a beaner when I was a kid. Now I serve beans, and I get paid for it. I reclaimed it gracefully. I serve it with love. I want to be the burrito king.

Let’s talk about the community. When La Taq first opened in Park Slope it was here for 25 years. and since reopening it’s had such wonderful reception.

When I saw Park Slope for the first time, I felt like I was in a little baby section of Haight-Ashbury. Back then Brooklyn was rough, but this section was artsy fartsy and I loved it. So I opened the place here and I got to know everybody. I mean, I lived here for 35 years, and when I got out of the business, I didn’t think I was gonna get back into it. And I love it. I live just a few blocks away, and I feel like this is more home to me than where I live. So I love this neighborhood.

That’s the reason we reopened here, because we have history here. Even my staff are the same people from 30 years ago. Everyday people tell me, “We’re glad you’re back”. And you know, sometimes it’s overwhelming, but at the same time I love it. I feel like this is not just mine, but more of a neighborhood establishment.

Chat with Nasim

By Filed Under: Eat Local

Fascinated by the food scene in New York City in the 80’s, Nasim Alikhani dreamed of opening her own restaurant. After years of honing her skills and overcoming obstacles, Chef Alikhani now serves authentic Persian cuisine with her own unique modern twist at Sofreh restaurant and Sofreh Cafe.

Nasim Alikhani is the James Beard nominated chef behind the wildly popular Iranian restaurant Sofreh, and its newly opened sister cafe, Sofreh Cafe. Last month, I got the opportunity to hear her speak on a panel hosted by the NYPL called Translating Taste: Food Writing Across Cultures. More recently, I had the distinct privilege of interviewing her to learn more about her experience as an immigrant, a daughter and a mother, an Iranian and an American, and above all, a cook.  

Hi Nasim, thank you for agreeing to chat with me. When I heard you speak at the Translating Taste event, I was so mesmerized by your story, and I’m excited to be sharing it here.

Thank you!

So you’re from Isfahan, a province in central Iran. How did you end up in New York, and what was your early experience like as an immigrant living in Queens?

I came to New York in 1983 as a law student. By the time I settled in here, I realized that I had completely lost interest in continuing with law, but I was on a student visa so I had to keep my status. At the time I was working all kinds of jobs as a server, as a babysitter, whatever I could get my hands on. My first job was as a nanny for an Iranian family that lived in Flushing, Queens. About a year later, I had saved enough that I could afford to live by myself, and I ended up in the Jackson Heights/Rego Park area. 

I was fascinated with the food in the area. There was so much to discover, like I had no idea what dosa was, I had no idea about Chino-Latino food. It was just an incredible learning experience. That was my favorite part of my early time here: once or twice a week enjoying this food, feeling alive, and you know, just being a part of the New York scene.

You mentioned that it felt like the whole world was cooking in Jackson Heights. Was that the first time that you were able to experience so many different cultures and cuisines in one place?

Yeah, absolutely. I come from Iran, which is a very large country. Each region cooks in completely different ways, so I was already accustomed to experiencing varied flavors within the same country. But it was really mind blowing to just see, like in one block, you have Columbian cooking. And then you turn the corner and India is cooking, and around another corner is Brazilian food. Yes, that was the first time that I experienced it in such close proximity and it was just really incredible.

At the same time you mentioned feeling homesick and how you sustained yourself on memories. Can you share more about that experience?

Although I went out once or twice a week, I mostly lived on a very tight budget. So I relied on my suitcase that my mother packed for me with basics like rice and lentils, but also with herbs and spices like saffron. I would cook these big meals that I could eat throughout the week, and every time I cooked, I tried to use the ingredients she packed me. I really lived on that suitcase. I was cooking a lot from both memory and also nostalgia, which helped me feel a little closer to home.

It’s really interesting, this idea of traveling and eating out of your suitcase that your mom packed for you. Maybe it’s a common experience for immigrants. Every time I visit my mom, she’ll pack me shiitake mushrooms and a bunch of Chinese ingredients. 

Absolutely. Every time we went back home with my kids, we would come back with cases and cases of my mother’s marmalade. And I’m like, “Mom, we don’t eat so much marmalade”, and she was always like “Take it! The kids will eat it.” I knew they wouldn’t, but I took it because that is a way she expressed her care.

My mother passed away in October and I still have the marmalade that she gave us a year before. And it’s still perfect. So right now I’m treasuring it one spoon at a time.

That must be extremely bittersweet. You’ve also memorialized your mother’s cooking in a much more lasting way in your cookbook, right?

Yeah, there’s a chicken recipe in there that’s truly her own recipe. It was a staple of every party we had for the last 25-30 years, so I knew that I had to have that chicken in the book. And the way I plated it, it’s exactly the way it used to be plated at every dinner party she hosted. Towards the end of her life, my mother had memory issues. But as soon as she saw the chicken she exclaimed, “Look! What is my chicken doing here? That’s my chicken!”

That’s beautiful. And speaking of parties, “Sofreh” is a term for an iconic Persian fabric that serves as the backdrop for seasonal feasts and celebrations. It’s also the name of your restaurant and your cookbook. Can you talk about how you started Sofreh?

 I wanted to open a cafe for years, but when I found out I was pregnant with twins, I decided to push back that dream in order to raise my kids. I was very active in raising my kids and also kept myself busy by volunteering at non-profits and running marathons. Around the time the kids were in middle school, it hit me that they would be leaving the house at the same time. So I started revisiting this idea that I kept deferring. I started cooking massive projects from home, and people were blown away. After taking on bigger events, I realized that not only was the passion alive and well, it was burning inside of me.

So I told my husband, “I am opening a restaurant.” By the time the kids finished middle school, my husband knew that I was dead set on opening a restaurant. He has always been incredibly supportive – this year is going to be 38 years of marriage – and he’s also a smart businessman. I can dream big and I can execute massive projects, but I am really bad at money stuff, so he came in and really helped me to run a business.

But everything took much longer than we expected. This whole restaurant project was supposed to be something that I could do when the kids headed off to college. They went to college, graduated from college, and I still had not opened Sofreh. Seriously, it took six years. Those years were very hard. Six years of fighting for permits and dealing with construction issues and another seven months waiting for the gas connection.

What did menu development look like during that time?

After six years of waiting, I knew exactly what I was going to do. I had been throwing parties for people for 20-30 years by that point, so I knew exactly what people liked. It also helped to remember that this was just my starting menu, and that menus evolve and change. So I started with something very basic. We had a fish dish, a chicken dish, and a vegetarian dish that were all solidly grounded in our cuisine. We also had two rice dishes and a bunch of appetizers and a couple of iconic dishes that to this day still exist in my menu.

What are some examples of those iconic dishes?

We have a lot of yogurt in our cuisine. And rice, of course. Plain basmati rice and herb rice are very iconic to me. There is “Ash”, which is a thick noodle stew. And eggplants – I love eggplants. I have seen pretty much the entire world’s interpretation of eggplants, and I can say that hands down, we have one of the most varied and interesting interpretations.

Can you talk a bit about how you balance tradition and modernism as you evolve your menu?

For me, tradition is so important. Tradition is who I am. Staying in the course of traditional food is my mission. I want to introduce the world to this incredible rich cuisine that is so old and is so underrated. It’s my mission to preserve it.

At the same time, as a chef, I also ache to do something new. I tread this fine line very carefully,

So I won’t just wake up and say, for example, “Let me create a dish with mushrooms”, which is not an ingredient that exists in our culture. No, I thought very hard and experimented for so many months before I introduced a dish using maitake mushrooms.

Ultimately,  I deviate from tradition meaningfully. The care and the love and the attention throughout still bring an aspect of tradition to every dish I add to the menu.

Both your restaurant and your cafe are located in the Prospect Heights/Park Slope area. Can you talk about why you chose these specific neighborhoods?

When I got this building, this neighborhood was not what it is today. 12 years ago, Flatbush and Prospect Heights were not these cool places. However, I knew that I didn’t want to have a restaurant in Manhattan, because I wanted to be part of a community. And I knew Brooklyn incredibly well. I knew every neighborhood of it. I looked at Carroll Gardens, because I was searching for a sense of a neighborhood, but there was nothing available there. I wasn’t interested in being up in Brooklyn Heights, because it just seemed so stuck up. I couldn’t find anything in the Fort Greene area at that time, and I looked up Vanderbilt a lot, but nothing was available. So I was just really focusing my search in this vicinity, because it was nice, full of restaurants, and had a sense of community. Then this building popped up and the rest is history.