Park Slope Reader

Angela Xu

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.