Park Slope Reader

Eat Local

Art You Can Eat: The Nuaa Table’s Stunning Thai Creation

By Filed Under: Eat Local, Featured Story

There’s something magical about wandering into a restaurant on a chilly Sunday evening, expecting good food, only to find your expectations wildly exceeded. That’s exactly what happened to my wife and I when we sauntered into The Nuaa Table on a chilly Sunday evening, and found ourselves surrounded by edible works of art.

From the outside, The Nuaa Table is fairly understated, its modern facade blending seamlessly with the restaurant laden streets of Prospect Heights. But inside, the dining room is serene, a warm, modern-brass lined canvas meant to showcase the vibrant masterpieces arriving from the kitchen. The restaurant’s ethos is rooted in the Slow Food Movement, placing emphasis on quality, freshness, and the care that goes into each dish. But there’s more than just nourishment at play here—this is about beauty, about the art inherent in food.

I’ve always believed that food (at its best) should look as good as it tastes. There’s a certain poetry in eating something visually stunning, a childlike glee in devouring art. And at The Nuaa Table, each plate is a meticulously crafted piece of culinary poetry.

Take, for instance, the Chor Moung, a purple blossom dumpling that stole the show before it even reached my mouth. Deep indigo petals, sculpted with delicate precision, dusted in gold flakes—these weren’t just dumplings; they were jewels on a plate. The butterfly pea flower dough gave them a stunning hue, while the savory filling of minced chicken, peanut, and preserved radish offered a perfect contrast to the sweet floral aroma. I almost felt guilty eating them, like I was ruining something too beautiful to touch. Almost.

Then came the E-San Crispy Rice, a textural symphony of crispy Thai sticky rice and creamy trout caviar custard. It was a single, perfect bite that crunched, melted, and danced on my palate. Anchovy Jaew Bong added a salty kick, while pumpkin seeds and citrus kept it playful. This was more than just flavor—it was an experience, an introduction to the whimsical side of Thai cuisine.

I knew we were in trouble when I made eye contact with my wife across the table. Her eyes said, “We need to order more of this,” and when our waiter came back to the table, that is exactly what we did. 

For our main course that evening, we ordered the rice cracker crusted branzino, a fillet so tender and sweet, it practically fell apart at the touch of my fork. It was paired with Pickled Cauliflower and a Sweet Corn Salad, creating a perfectly balanced bite every time. The Chili-Lime Nam Yam added just enough heat to remind you this was Thai cuisine, after all, but never so much that it overpowered the delicate fish. It was decadent, moist, and utterly perfect.

We rounded out our evening with the Northeast Green Papaya Salad, a dish so bright and crispy it woke up my senses from the first bite. The sun-dried shrunken shrimp and peanuts brought a savory crunch, but it was the fermented fish sauce that made it sing. It was hot—no, I mean, hot—but in all the right ways. The kind of heat that warms you from the inside out, perfect for a cold Brooklyn night.

We left The Nuaa Table that evening feeling a warm sense of affection for the place. I have to admit that I did not go to Nuaa Tabe expecting to write about them in this paper, but by the time we were paying the check, I was certain that was what I had to do. I couldn’t stop thinking about those purple blossom dumplings, about the way each dish had been presented with such thought and care. It’s rare to find a place where the food isn’t just delicious but beautiful, where you feel a pang of guilt for disturbing the art on your plate. And yet, disturb it we did.

Maybe that’s the magic of The Nuaa Table—food meant to be admired and then devoured, a fleeting masterpiece that only exists until the last bite. And I already know we’ll be back soon, ready to admire and devour all over again.

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.

Life on Cafe Mars

By Filed Under: Eat Local, Park Slope Eater

 I smirk at my wife across the table, as our waitress presents us with a tray containing an eclectic collection of colorful vintage drinking glasses. They asked us each to choose one for our complimentary welcome toast. I like a little bit of interactive theatre with my meal, as long as it doesn’t come at the expense of the food on the table; and so far this is striking just the right balance for us.

I lift a cheerful lime green goblet from the tray and inspect it in the ambient fluorescence of the dining parlor. A few moments later, our mix-matched glasses are full of tiny airy prosecco bubbles.

I stare into the now-full green-glass, and watch the way the suspended beads of carbon dioxide warp and spike behind the ornate curves of the cut crystal, and I feel a little bit like Percival Lowell looking at Mars through a telescope for the first time.

Lowell thought that he saw canals on Mars. We know now, what he saw then was an illusion caused by limitations of the optical glass in his telescopes; but in Percival’s day the theory was that an advanced alien race must have geoengineered their arid planet to funnel polar meltwater down to the Martian midlands, where they must have built magnificent civilizations atop their alien waterways. It’s a nice thought at least.  That an alien race could overcome their planets natural disadvantages and exercise a clean and sustainable mastery over their environment.

Those imaginary Martians would be awfully disappointed in the state of the Gowanus canal.

I pause on that thought. Maybe the prosecco is already getting to my head; and it occurs to me that I don’t even really know why they call this place ‘Café Mars’. I know the food is supposed to be creative, and that’s why I am really here after all. 

Our waitress arrives again just in time to stop me from sharing my insane inner monologue with my wife, and she presents us with a white plate holding 4 jiggling cubes of blood-red Jello, each containing its own dark green planetary body. 

“These are our Jell-olives. Most of our guests prefer to start the meal with them. The Jello is a citrus Negroni, and the olives are Castelvetrano. I suggest eating them before they start to melt.”

 I have to pause the narration at this point and say the staff at Café Mars have been exceptional from the moment we walked in. The host who greeted us was enthusiastic, bright, with a quick and cheerful whit; and our waitress is very well versed on the menu, and more than willing to make recommendations to heighten our experience here.

The menu at Café Mars is certainly adventurous, and undeniably Italian inspired, with plates meant to be ordered several at-a-time, and shared family style. As our waitress walks us through each section of the menu, and generously helps us put together a strategy for the evening, I interrupt briefly to ask her “What’s the inspiration for this place?” I gaze around and gesture at the colorful zig-zagging furniture, the rounded curves of the bar on our right.

“Italian!” She says brightly and with confidence.

I cannot tell if she is being ‘tongue-in-cheek’. Yes, the food is distinctly Italian-inspired, but is that really why I’m asking?

I pause on her answer for a moment and smile, letting the sincerity in her reply sink in. 

I think of the four or five dozen Italian Restaurants I have been to in New York City over my lifetime, and Café Mars doesn’t resemble a one of them.

We finish putting in our orders, and I return to conversation with my wife. “I feel like if aliens wanted to open a “human eating establishment”, and they researched the history of the neighborhood, this would be the end result.”  At this point I confess to her that I didn’t know exactly what to expect coming here. I read a few other reviews for this place and heard them reference something called the ‘Memphis Milano Design movement’, but rather than simply regurgitating the factoid back at my reader, I’d like to put the aesthetic into a more personal frame of reference that folks in the 28-45 age range will instantly understand:

Sitting here in the moment Café Mars looks like a spaceship tv set designed for an early 90s Nickelodeon sitcom, a surreal and uncanny experience of Nostalgia I had not up to this point, experienced up close and in person.

Back to those Jell-Olives. I held one up to the light, admiring the spherical globe behind the red-hue crystalline lens of biter citrus, and once again found myself daydreaming about controversial astronomy lessons from the late 19th century. And speaking of controversy, these were indeed ‘divisive’ at first bite.

We both bit into the first set, and while the flavors were lovely, the textural experience of introducing masticated olive to Jello was a little hard for my wife to appreciate. On second attempt, we found that letting the Jell-olives melt in our mouths produced something much closer to the Negroni experience, and that is probably how I would recommend eating them.

We finished the plate and I found myself with an unexpected craving for more. I had after all, come here for the creativity, and I had not been disappointed.

Next we tried the Eggs Paradiso; an unparalleled take on the deviled egg, with a sweet corn hazelnut filling, and a drizzle of balsamic vinegar. Nothing controversial about these. We both loved them, and the plate was gone almost as soon as it had arrived.

As our confident navigator arrived back to the table with the first of our main plates, I tried prodding for a little more information about the genius behind the curtains. They let slip that the owners and co-chefs are no novices to high gastronomic art. Co Chefs Paul D’Avino, Jorge Olarte, along with general manager Jordan Gwiazdowski opened Café Mars in May of 2023 with a resume behind them that would make any Cosmopolitan blush; Aska, Olmsted, Momofuko Ssam and more.

Now it’s starting to make more sense. This place isn’t trying to fit any molds. The Chefs all know what they’re doing, the bartenders know what they’re doing, and they know they’re doing it well; so why not color outside of the lines after all.

As our mains arrive, my wife and I make the executive decision to order two colorful cocktails. I’m used to thoughtfully considering food and drink pairings, carefully balanced flavor profiles, but I’m starting to get with the program now. 

Café Mars is about having fun with your food. 

By the time the Cucamelon smoked trout platter comes out, we are both halfway through our light blue and yellow chamomile infused cocktails, and thinking about what wild combination to order for the next dish.

 Sweet orange, grappa and pistachio over ice, with a little blue umbrella, more reminiscent of a Tiki drink, than an Italian classic; “What better to go with our Pork-Tart!” I say to my wife, now sufficiently giddy. But after a bite of the braised pork-cheek tart my lighthearted sarcasm gives way to an impression of genuine awe. The cocktail-food combination actually worked. The orange-fennel in the tart pairs nicely with the fruity concoction, and I find myself once again experiencing something new and novel at the table.

We polish off the dayboat scallops, delicious, succulent (as expected by now), and arrive at our last savory dish of the evening; the baked stuffed artichoke Raviolo. And this isn’t your mothers stemmy, tough steamed artichoke either. The delicate leaves are cooked young enough to be eaten in their entirety, and it is served in a beautiful piece of earthenware, brushed expertly in some kind of dark leaf green edible paint. When it arrived at our table, it took us a moment to realize what was what, but once we had wrapped our collective heads around the illusion, we spent a delighted ten minutes running our spoons over the delicate vegetal brush strokes.

As the savory courses wrapped, the host who had initially greeted us came over and presented us with a sweet dark digestif, reminiscent of Jager, and asked us what we thought of the food so far.

The food is great, very adventurous, some (like the Jell-olives) even a little divisive… if that were not the case, I would have been disappointed. I came to be challenged, and I was challenged. I came to try something new, and I had gotten more than I bargained for and then some.

They asked if we wanted dessert and I responded that “I would like to try the Olive Oil Cake’. They both looked at me a little puzzled. “olive oil cake? OH you mean the olive AND oil cake.”

I paused and held the menu back up to my eyes; as the canals on its surface shifted and writhed, I could now see it did indeed read “Olive and oil cake.” I shrugged and relented. “I guess we need to try the olive and oil cake!”

 As we sipped on our dessert drinks, and mused over the pleasantly bizarre nature of this unusual Italian restaurant we speculated over how olives would go over in a dessert dish. 

Before long, a slice of crumbly black and white marbled cake arrived, modestly prepared with a dollop of whipped cream, a drizzle of olive oil, and a generous serving of blueberries atop it. I didn’t see any olives, but when I took a bite, I recognized the flavor baked into the dark black swirls of cake and before I had a chance to flinch, I felt the salty savory flavor blend effortlessly with the light sweetness of the cake and fruit, and instantly fell in love. Who would have thought that a dark olive note would work with whipped cream? Not me. But the highly advanced life-forms working at Café Mars had intuition otherwise, and they had been correct.

As we finished dessert, they brought out a colorful antique bowl full of hard candies and our bill came in at pop-up thank you card. A nice send off for our trip back to earth.

As we paid the bill my wife and I were speculating about when we could get back here, who we needed to bring with us, what we might like to try next time we came. For those curious, we booked our next visit for right after the fall article is published. 

I still don’t know why they call it Café Mars. There’s no running water on Mars after all, and therefore I would imagine there’s not much of a market for cafés over there. But in any case, I am very glad they opened up this weird little spot next to our canal. I for one welcome our new interplanetary gastronomic overlords, and feel that they may have much to teach us.

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. 

He Who Controls the Spices

By Filed Under: Eat Local

There are two prevailing theories on the best way to handle the Summer heat, and while some if us are gearing up for an expensive summer besides our window-AC unites, many are keen ti embrace the heat. Our review of Park Slope’s latest culinary triumph, Masalawala & Sons.

With Summer right around the corner, and our Spring cleaning (hopefully) behind us, we are all dusting off our air conditioners, and trying to guess when the weather will rise consistently into the 80’s and 90’s. Of Course there are two prevailing theories on the best way to handle the Summer heat, and while some of us are gearing up for an expensive summer besides our window-AC units, many are keen to embrace the heat. For those Summer-sun-seekers, Masalawala and Sons invites you on a culinary journey that not only tantalizes your taste buds but also harmonizes with the physiological cravings of the season. As those temperatures rise, I invite the adventure seekers among you to seek out those sunkissed flavors that spark the senses and ignite the palate.

Located on Park Slope’s 5th Ave, between Ginger’s Bar and Logan’s Run, Masalawala and Sons is a vivid and inviting culinary nest that takes diners on a nostalgic journey through the gastronomic elements of Kolkata, India. This prized eatery, the vision of restaurateur Roni Mazumdar and Chintan Pandya, pays homage to Roni’s father, a 75-year-old immigrant from Kolkata, by recreating his favorite food memories with authenticity and passion.

Upon entering Masalawala and Sons, you are enveloped in a friendly and welcoming atmosphere which warmly sets the stage for the rest of the dining experience. The restaurant featured an intimate and colorful dining room, bathed in the familiar aromas of coriander, and cardamom. 

When we visited Masalawala and Sons, we chose to take advantage of the late spring weather, booking a table in their backyard. When we arrived we were escorted through the dining room, past the kitchen, and down a set of wooden stairs, where we were treated to an equally inviting covered backyard space, nestled between the secret yards of Park Slope’s ivy clad brownstone townhouses. 

Our server took our drink orders promptly, and advised us on the layout of the menu and the size of each dish.

We began our meal by indulging in the Dahi Vada, a delightful dish consisting of fermented lentil dumplings topped with sweet and savory yogurt, and spicy chili. The presentation is a pleasant surprise, resembling a deep dish cake with its layers of yogurt, cumin, and vibrant green chili sauce. The texture is more akin to a cake, than a dumpling, with a moist, fluffy, and crumbly texture almost akin to carrot cake. The flavors are notably rich, balancing the sweet and savory yogurt with the gentle and inviting heat of the chilis, they quickly marry with the cakelike dumpling, and make an excellent introduction to the flavor storm that Masalawal and Sons has in store.

Next we ordered the Macher Dim, another small plate featuring seasonal Bengali fish roe, kalajeera rice, egg yolk, ghee (clarified Butter). Served in a deep silver dish, we are surprised yet again by an unexpected presentation. The complex and layered morsel is a vivid bright yellow, almost custard-like at first appearance. Upon Cutting into it, we note a dense cornbread-like texture. There is a mild fishy flavor, not at all overpowering, but well balanced, offering a deep and wholesome oat-like finish. The subtle heat from the green chilies adds a delightful touch to the complexity of the dish.

At the same time that we were enjoying the Macher Dim, the Ripon Street Majja was brought to us with some ceremony. This is a dish that will leave a lasting impression. A generous presentation in a large deep silver bowl, it showcases bone marrow, paya, smoked chili, shaved egg, and a side of Pao buns. As the server spoons the marrow out of the bone, it sinks into the simmering deep red chili sauce, creating a tantalizing stew. The dish is undeniably spicy, and the heat builds as you eat, yet the flavors and spices remain discernible, providing a captivating experience that might just leave the hairs on your neck standing up.

When it comes to main courses, the Daab Chingri steals the spotlight. Presented in a young coconut shell, sealed with a bit of dough, this dish is truly a showstopper. As our server regails us on the origins of the dish, she opens the coconut, and stirs a hot and vivid yellow stew, scraping the young coconut meat off the sides of the vessel, and incorporating them into the prawn stew. Next, our server instructs us to utilize the tender meat in the prawn heads. This turns out to be fantastic advice, as while the prawn heads are a bit intimidating to disassemble, the succulent, soft and sweetly flavored meat in their heads turns out to be the best part of the whole meal. This dish is a must-try and a testament to the culinary prowess of Masalawala and Sons.

For those seeking an exquisite addition to their meal, the Macher Pulao is a perfect choice. Featuring seasonal Bengali fish paired with aged basmati rice and bhaja masala, the dish showcases the sublime flavors of the fish. Though bone-laden, the delicate fish meat is light, sweet, only slightly salty, more akin to shellfish in flavor, than to a white fish. It was something to be savored and enjoyed with patience, and it was the perfect way to gently close out our dining experience.

When the meal had concluded, my fellow diners and I were left to conclude that the quality and unique nature of the food at Masalawala and Sons is worthy of the hype, and the wait for a reservation.The truth of the matter is, I could go back there, order five completely different dishes, and probably write another article on that experience independent of the first. They have created something truly unique and in doing so, have invited their patrons to elevate their pallets, and to experience a deeper dimension of Indian cuisine and culture. 

This summer, if you are looking to embrace the heat of the season, and if you are fortunate enough to snag a coveted reservation, we hope you will let Masalawala and Sons treat you to their vision for Kolkata’s greatest culinary innovations. 

High Tea in the Heights: A Review of Brooklyn High Low

By Filed Under: Eat Local

As the weather warms here in Brooklyn, there is no better way to enjoy the beauty of the season than by indulging in the delightful and timeless experience of afternoon tea.

Spring in Brooklyn is a time of renewal and growth. The budding flowers and blooming trees paint the city in a breathtaking palette of colors, reminiscent of old-world cities like London and Paris. As the weather warms here in Brooklyn, there is no better way to enjoy the beauty of the season than by indulging in the delightful and timeless experience of afternoon tea. 

The English afternoon tea is a beloved tradition that has its roots in the early 19th century. During this time, Anna, the seventh Duchess of Bedford, would ask for a light meal in the late afternoon to stave off hunger until dinner. This practice quickly caught on and became a staple of English society, a sophisticated and elegant way to spend an afternoon with friends and loved ones.

Brooklyn High Low tea room, located in the charming neighborhood of Prospect Heights, along Vanderbilt Ave, is sure to delight any tea lover. They offer a carefully curated, and high quality tea ceremony experience well worth the reservation.

Recently, my wife and I, along with two friends, visited Brooklyn High Low Tea Room and had the opportunity to indulge in their Grand Vanderbilt tea service for four. From start to finish, we were impressed with the level of service and attention to detail. 

Upon entering their establishment, we were greeted by a friendly and professional hostess, and invited to sit in this intimate space among four other dining parties. The tea room embraces a charming parlor-style interior, featuring an eclectic collection of tables and french salon chairs, and boasting a beautiful assortment of china and silverware showcasing tea ceremony aesthetics from all over the world. 

The menu options at Brooklyn High Low offer something for everyone. The Classic tea service is a 75-minute experience that includes a bottomless pot of the house black tea with your choice of milk, sugar, lemon, or honey, as well as a triple-plate tea tier filled with finger sandwiches, scones, and a plate of sweets. 

The Grand Vanderbilt tea service (our choice) offers guests a bottomless pot of one of 25 different teas. It is the perfect accompaniment to the triple plate tea tier which included:

Freshly baked scones, strawberry jam, lemon curd and clotted cream, a crumpet with herb butter, and eight flavors of tea sandwiches. 

We particularly loved the cucumber and Dill tea sandwiches. Another interesting and perhaps unexpected standout was the Branston Pickle & Cheddar finger sandwich, which one of our guests remarked, filled him with nostalgia as its sweet and tangy flavor profile reminded him of an elevated Mcdonalds Single with cheese. Trust us, we really do mean that as a compliment. On a plate full of decadent and traditional standards, the Branston pickle and cheese finger sandwich was a simple yet remarkable addition.

We tasted and compared eachothers teas, but for me the standout tea was the Vanilla Black, which had a subtle sweetness that married perfectly with the deep notes of Madagascar vanilla. The sugar bowl, filled with gummy butterflies and candied orange wedges, added a playful touch to the elegant setting.

The confections served during the afternoon tea were a feast for both the eyes and the taste buds. Each treat was a work of art, carefully crafted to delight the senses. A highlight of the sweets were the chocolate-covered strawberries, which were plump, juicy, and coated in a rich, dark chocolate. The delicate macarons were all a beautiful orange color, and were flavored with cinnamon spice and pumpkin. The cherry custard tarts were bite-sized, with flaky crusts and a sweet, creamy filling. The chocolate mousse was served in delicate tea cups, topped with a dollop of whipped cream, sprinkles, and a whimsical wafer butterfly.

The Tea Room’s knowledgeable staff were always on hand to help guide us through the experience, offering recommendations and information about both the tea’s and the assorted culinary treats set before us. The attentiveness and professionalism of the staff was noteworthy, and it really added to the sense of esteem that Brooklyn High Low intends to cultivate towards its guests. 

Our tea room experience perfectly mirrored the peaceful and elegant essence of the season, offering a moment of serenity amidst the hustle and bustle of the city. The ritual of tea-drinking, with its attention to detail, paired with the beauty of spring, made for an uplifting and even slightly magical experience. 

With its refined atmosphere, expertly crafted menu, and attentive staff, Brooklyn High Low delivers a one-of-a-kind and authentically sophisticated afternoon tea. It is a true escape from the busy world outside. So why not treat yourselves to a little luxury. Whether you’re a seasoned tea drinker or a curious beginner, this intimate Tea Room is sure to delight and it is the perfect way to celebrate the arrival of spring in Brooklyn.

A Note: Brooklyn High Low has opened a second location! The new tea room is located at 69 7th Avenue in Park Slope.

Miss American Pie: Park Slope’s Sweetest Treat

By Filed Under: Eat Local Tagged With: , ,

On the north end of Park Slope’s Fifth Avenue sits Miss American Pie, a relaxed and inviting escape from the speed of the city. 

Packed with the sweet, nostalgic smell of fresh-baked goods, the 50s-themed bakery fosters a sense of small-town community on one of the neighborhood’s most bustling blocks.

Wednesday through Sunday of each week, owner and head baker Lindsey Hill dishes up classic desserts reminiscent of what would be served at a Fourth of July picnic or after Sunday supper. Since she opened Miss American Pie in August of 2019, Hill’s homestyle baking has turned Miss American Pie into a destination spot for local sweet-tooths. However, like many of the neighborhood’s businesses, Miss American Pie’s future is uncertain amid the COVID-19 pandemic. With high rent and limited business, staying open is a daily struggle. 

Hill, who grew up about 90 miles away from Chicago, discovered her love for baking as a teenager. In her early years, most of Hill’s customers were her friends from the small private high school she attended in Northern Illinois. 

“I was the homemaker,” said Hill. “I would invite people over for dinner parties when I was in high school. I started baking then, using my mom’s Betty Crocker cookbook. I made a lot of strawberry cheesecakes and stuff like that.” 

In college, Hill’s love for baking grew even more. She would stay up all night and escape the world by studying cookbooks and pouring her heart into her craft.

“It became like therapy for me,” said Hill. “In the morning, I would be so excited with all of my creations. My husband, who was then my boyfriend, would come out and say, ‘Oh my gosh. Have you been up all night?’ And I’d be like, ‘Yeah, but look at this!’”

After graduating from college, Hill moved to New York to pursue a career in fashion design. Still, she didn’t give up her love for baking. While working in the fashion industry, She would often bring baked goods in for her colleagues, who, between bites, would ask her why she wasn’t selling the stuff.

“During that time is when I started developing my own recipes,” Hill said. “Baking is more of a science than an art. So, once I understood the science behind it, I began developing my own recipes.” 

Eventually, Hill took her coworkers’ advice and started selling whole pies online. She rented a kitchen and was working as a part-time baker and a part-time fashion designer. Hill kept this up for a couple of years before the time came when she had to make a decision. 

So Hill took a chance. Instead of keeping her high-paying job in the fashion industry, she opted to pursue something she’d loved since she was young. She opened her bakery, Miss American Pie. 

“I felt a divine calling to do this,” said Hill. “I felt like God was telling me, ‘This is where you’re supposed to be. This is where love can spread through you the most to other people.’ So, that’s what I decided to do.”

Hill spent the next year figuring out the logistics behind how she could open her bakery. When looking for locations, Hill printed out a map of Brooklyn, her home for more than 15 years, and narrowed down a few potential neighborhoods. 

“Park Slope wasn’t my first choice,” said Hill. “But, when I started walking around the neighborhood, I really felt a sense of diversity that I didn’t feel in other neighborhoods. I feel like the Barclay’s Center and Atlantic Terminal is this meeting point of a few different neighborhoods, demographics, and walks of life. I thought that it was the perfect place for Miss American Pie because the goal really was to spread love through pie and to be a place where people build authentic relationships around food.”

Named after the Don McLean song, the interior of Miss American Pie looks like a cross between a 50s diner and a grandma’s kitchen. The floors are painted with black and white checkers, and the walls, one of which is exposed brick, are spotted with patriotic flags, family pictures, baking utensils, and old-timey signs that list the day’s menu. 

“When I was growing up, and even back in the 50s and 60s, the idea of eating a meal with your family was ingrained into American society, and I don’t see that anymore,” said Hill. “Relationships are a valuable thing that we are losing. 

Every morning, Hill bakes nine “everyday pies,” including fresh apple pie, cherry crumb pie, and coconut cream pie, just to name a few. Also on the everyday menu is Hills’ Signature Pie, which is made with apples, peaches, and blueberries, sprinkled with oat crumbs, and covered with a lattice top. 

“It meets everyone’s cravings,” said Hill. “If you like the oat crumb top, it has that. If you like pastry crust, it has that too. It outsells every other pie by 50 percent.”

Hill also makes more than a dozen seasonal pies. A few tasty options on the Spring menu are a strawberry rhubarb pie, key lime pie, and french silk pie, which is a flaky butter crust filled with a fluffy dark chocolate mousse and topped with sweet whipped cream. 

“I think ‘classic’ is a keyword when you think about the majority of our pies,” said Hill. “They are like my children. I have a different favorite every day.” 

Despite Hill’s talents and her bakery’s growing support, keeping the business afloat has never been easy. Immediately after making it past the year one growing pains that most businesses go through, Miss American Pie was hit with a global pandemic. 

In March, the bakery was forced to close regular service. They were only open on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday for pre-orders. Hill soon lost the ability to support her staff, so her husband quit his job to help out at the bakery unpaid. 

“The neighborhood was so supportive during that time,” said Hill. “People were coming in. Some families were ordering a whole pie every week or buying gift cards if they didn’t need any pie or were on a diet.”

But months later, the financial problems are still overwhelming. Like many of Park Slope’s business owners, Hill is taking things day-by-day. 

“I would like to say we will be around, but I have no idea,” said Hill. 

Eating Local: A Balancing Act with Insa’s Sohui Kim

By Filed Under: Eat Local, Uncategorized Tagged With: , , ,

You may know Sohui Kim and Ben Schneider as the husband-wife duo behind Insa and The Good Fork, but on top of these two projects and a third restaurant in the works, they are also parents to two school age children. We talked to Sohui about the intrinsic value of work, what it’s like to be a mother and executive chef, and how she continues to balance it all with a new historical revival restaurant—Gage and Tollner—on the way.

Viviane Eng: So describe what it’s like to own multiple businesses while also parenting two kids enrolled in public schools.

Sohui Kim: Well, let me first get my drink… There are certainly a lot of balls in the air. We try to juggle everything: marriage, career, children. I liken a restaurant to putting on a show, with all its moving parts. At a restaurant like Insa, the staff is big and the scope is big. I mean, just its square footage is big so that means we need a lot of great people on the team to be there. As an executive chef and mom, it makes me feel I’m responsible for everybody, so sometimes it can feel like a little too much. And because my work is in restaurants, it always follows me home—the cell phone’s always on. 

VE: How do you and your husband split up the parenting responsibilities? 

SK: It’s often the case that one of us is home to care for the kids, and then we sort of tag team. Then there are certain days in the week where we say this is family day. Sadly, right now, that’s like one day a week. But no matter what you do, family comes first, so we try to prioritize and it usually works. I’ve never forgotten a kid at pickup. I’ve come close, but have never left anyone stranded, knock on wood! There’s certainly a lot of scheduling, especially on my end. As progressive as this family is and as progressive as I want to think this society is, I think the onus falls mostly on me as a mom to do the scheduling. I know plenty of family situations that are different, but I’m sort of better at it than my husband. It gets harry sometimes and stressful, but that’s all life. 

VE: Tell me about your restaurants and the decision to have kids after starting your first business. 

SK: We have three businesses. My husband and I opened the Good Fork in 2006, before we had any kids. It’s a small little neighborhood bistro in Red Hook where we live. I got pregnant with my daughter Jasper in 2007 and Oliver came two years later. At the time, owning one restaurant and starting a family was all that I could handle. I would’ve never thought about opening a second, but in 2014 we figured that the kids were a little older and we thought to ourselves, What do we want to do professionally? Then came the idea of opening a Korean restaurant, which really appealed to me as a Korean immigrant. It was a cathartic experience to go back and decide to explore Korean food professionally, when all my life I had trained in French and Italian cooking styles. 

VE: Have the kids always been receptive about your busy schedules? 

SK: Insa definitely posed a greater challenge in terms of maintaining a normal family life, but we made do with it. Although I have to tell you this one story from when the kids were younger: We hadn’t signed a lease yet for Insa and were sort of talking about the concept of opening up a large Korean barbecue restaurant with karaoke rooms and a separate area. The little voice of Oliver said, “Are you guys opening another restaurant?” And we were like, “Yes, honey, we’re going to do this.” We started talking about it at the dinner table and both kids put on a sad face and went, “Noooo don’t do it!” We asked them why and they went, “Because we’ll never see you!” That almost broke me, but they were old enough where if they didn’t have school, we could bring them to the worksite. 

VE: What are some of the positive aspects of having parents in the restaurant industry? 

SK: Before Ben and I teamed up to do The Good Fork, he was a woodworker, so at Insa, he built the space while I designed the menu and cooked. The kids got to really see us do our work and take a certain pride in it, and that’s a beautiful thing. Luckily, a restaurant is a physical space we can all go. The kids know all our employees, which we consider extended family, so it’s great for them to be a part of that world and really get to see what we do. My son has a career day coming up in a few weeks—it’s the first one ever at P.S. 372 and he asked present at it. A lot of the time, children don’t have any clue what their parents really do, because the parents work in an office that the kids go to maybe once a year.

VE: What do you hope that your kids have learned after spending so much time in restaurants? 

SK: I remember as a child working as a babysitter, and I don’t know if it was because I was an immigrant and immigrant families work all the time, but I do want to instill the value of work in my kids. I know they’re seeing the value of work because no one works harder than a dishwasher or server and I love that they’re seeing that and appreciate that. 

VE: What’s in store for the new project?

SK: This next project, Gage and Tollner, it is even bigger in scope because it’s a revival of a historical restaurant, an old oyster chop house that dates back to 1889. It’s an interior and exterior landmarked space in Downtown Brooklyn, so there are a lot of eyes on it as we get ready to open this spring. We’re not really a family that relies on nannies—we sort of do everything—but when the crunch time comes with the opening, we’ll definitely have to rely on some friends to help out at least with Oliver. 

VE: I’m sure your work keeps you plenty busy, but how do you try to stay involved in your kids’ school affairs? 

SK: I’m cooking for the gala at P.S. 372 this year. I always feel so compelled to do what I can for my kids’ schools. My daughter graduated from there two years ago and my son’s been there since kindergarten. It’s just a great school and I want to give back and do whatever I can. When my daughter graduated, I cooked for the gala and will do it again at the end of March! I can’t go to every PTA meeting, and I feel bad about that, but every once in a while, if I can do something big to help out these awesome public schools, I’m down for it. 

Interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

https://www.gofundme.com/f/park-slope-reader-covid19-relief

Eating Local: Rose Water – A Fond Farewell

By Filed Under: Eat Local Tagged With: ,

Tucker long knew that the day would come where he would choose to walk away from Rose Water. He always knew that he wanted to walk out in front, by way of his own decision. He wanted to make the announcement himself, have people come and share a last meal and reflect on old memories, and, in his own words, “ride off into the sunset.”

I met John Tucker, the owner of Park Slope’s Rose Water, in the restaurant’s candlelit dining room, right as the neighborhood farm-to-table spot was gearing up for the night’s dinner crowd. Tucker had just gotten off a plane from California, for a trip that sounded like it was meant to serve as time off from work duties. But as it goes for most restaurant owners, there’s no such thing as a break – something that is especially true at a place like Rose Water. 

“The minute I got off the plane, I  had to spend a lot of time updating our wine list, because we use these small producers that have bottles constantly coming and going and beer list changes,” said Tucker. “Then we needed to make menu changes because of the seasonal shift as stuff from late summer and fall start to go out of season. As opposed to a place where not much changes, this place is changing constantly. And that requires a tremendous amount of work.”

For nearly two decades, Rose Water has been serving sustainable, seasonal, American fare to locally minded diners who seek a break from routine. In this time, both Rose Water customers and staff have born witness to cycles of life and neighborhood changes: When Rose Water opened, it was one of few restaurants in the neighborhood. Today, all sorts of restaurants dot the streets throughout central Brooklyn, making the question of how to choose a restaurant far more difficult than asking where there might be one. 

Two decades ago, Tucker’s youngest son had not been born yet. In the time since, he has worked at Rose Water (alongside Tucker’s other two children), and this spring, he will graduate from high school. Similarly, some Rose Water customers first came with new babies in tow, who are now unrecognizable, as young adults coming in for a meal without their parents. Others guests are no longer with us, but still, somehow, the restaurant has continued to preserve the legacy of memories made with them. 

All of that came to an end, or perhaps just an indefinite respite, on Thanksgiving Day this year, when Rose Water shuttered its doors, sharing a last meal among longtime customers and family. 

Tucker–who also doubled as the restaurant’s general manager–announced the decision to close Rose Water in September, with about eight weeks’ notice ahead of its last day in business. It was by no means an easy decision for Tucker, who spent weeks deliberating the choice with his family. Nonetheless, the choice to close somehow felt right for a variety of reasons. 

“We move through this life, we change, and we need to recognize when it’s time to run with that when it feels like the right thing to do, and to reflect on that and act on it. I’m almost 61 and I just don’t have the same energy as when I started,” said Tucker.

Rose Water opened its doors in August of 2000. At the time, Tucker had just finished a stint as general manager at Soho’s Savoy, a well-known pioneer in New York’s farm-to-table scene. Partnering with Savoy’s head chef, Tucker went on to establish Rose Water, at 787 Union Street. Intended to be an elevated, greenmarket driven neighborhood spot without the stuffiness of fine dining, Rose Water spearheaded the concept of casual yet consciously sourced dining in Brooklyn. 

Though this balance of neighborhood familiarity and attention to detail brought Rose Water a great deal of success for the better part of the last two decades, the balance between its small scale and complexity proved difficult to sustain. Both the food and wine menus at Rose Water were constantly changing, because the restaurant utilizes small producers whose inventory is also constantly in flux. When the seasons changed, so did the produce that came in. And though Tucker had been able to count on a number of staff members who had been working at Rose Water nearly since its very beginning, he didn’t have a person in a manager role to lean on. He was the one that took care of liaising with wine producers and farmers, as well as leading his staff. He was also often found working one of the serving rotations or on door duty. The result was a work-life balance that skewed heavily toward the former.

“We were trying to do something that wasn’t hyper fussy, but super well-considered in terms of where our product comes from, trying to use all sustainable meats, going organic when possible when it comes to produce. For the size of the place, we tried to have a well-curated list of natural wines that included producers from around the world. With the level of what we were trying to do, a lot of work went into that, and doing it basically by myself as the manager, that’s a lot,” said Tucker.

Though the exhaustion of running a restaurant is one reason that Tucker was seeking to move on, there was certainly a financial component as well. In recent years, Rose Water had become less profitable than it once was, something that Tucker chalked up to a few potential explanations. Although there was once a reliable dining out culture that was centered particularly on local modern American cuisine, this trend has shifted: people are increasingly ordering takeout, and aren’t eating out as much. Those who are interested in food have taken that interest to their own kitchens, an outgrowth of “foodie” culture where preparing more gourmet meals at home supplants going out to restaurants. 

“It’s become more expensive to eat out for a variety of different reasons,” said Tucker. “That has everything to do with rent and minimum wage–things that are good reasons. I also believe that people who are interested in food have learned how to cook. Stores like Union Market or the Park Slope Food Co-op, which is as popular as ever, and Whole Foods, are now places where you can go in and buy not only quality ingredients, but a vast array of spices and all sorts of things.”

Competition is another factor as to why running a restaurant in Brooklyn has grown more difficult. In 2000, there were very few dining options across central Brooklyn, so if people wanted to eat out and lived in Prospect Heights, Crown Heights, or Windsor Terrace, they’d likely flock to places like Rose Water or al di la Trattoria, rarities in the then-restaurant desert of Brooklyn. But today, Brooklyn is filled to the brim with a diverse selection of places to eat. There are fewer reasons for people in neighborhoods surrounding Park Slope to leave for dinner. 

Despite the decision to close has certainly been bittersweet for Tucker, he’s looking forward to enjoying nights and weekends off for the remainder of his work life. He’s chosen to leave the restaurant industry altogether, and has taken up a position at a nonprofit youth soccer program that he’s been volunteering at for the last decade. Tucker won’t be doing the coaching, but will instead, be taking his leadership skills to helping grow the business side of the organization. Though Tucker has been offered a full-time position there on numerous occasions, he’s always had to decline. He was busy, after all. 

As for the Rose Water storefront itself, Tucker disclosed that a few longtime employees are looking into pursuing another project with the space. 

“With any luck they’ll be carrying on doing something,” said Tucker. “It won’t be exactly the same, but it might involve parts of Rose Water and parts of the name–we’ll see. They’ve got some bridges to cross first. If they’re not able to do something with it, chances are, I’ll just empty the place out and walk away. I have some time on my lease, but I’ve chosen not to negotiate another term or finish out that last year.”

Tucker long knew that the day would come where he would choose to walk away from Rose Water. He always knew that he wanted to walk out in front, by way of his own decision. He wanted to make the announcement himself, have people come and share a last meal and reflect on old memories, and, in his own words, “ride off into the sunset.” It’s by no means been easy, but as it always has, the show must go on until that meal.

“It’s been a lot of grief for me. And I’ve had to wall off some of the emotions. But my plan is to have my family of five be the last table to sit down for a meal on Thanksgiving, if we can do it, that is. Who knows? We might end up at Wendy’s.”