The phone rang.

"Someone from The New York Times is on line two," my staff member said, eyes wide with excitement.

I barely glanced up from the dish I was plating. "Tell them I'm busy."

She blinked, incredulous. "But... it's The New York Times."

In our kitchen, every dish tells a story passed down through generations. Picture our chefs tenderly layering fresh herbs between grains of fragrant basmati rice, crafting the coveted tahdig. As the golden crust forms, their eyes gleam with pride—a triumphant moment that turns every meal into a celebration. Tahdig, a golden-crusted masterpiece, is the crown jewel of Persian cuisine. The patient simmer of Ghormeh Sabzi, a time-honored stew, fills the air with the distinctive aroma of fenugreek and dried lime, while tender chunks of beef melt into a sauce perfected over centuries.

Even though my two locations are only thirty minutes apart, it feels like I’m running two entirely different businesses. In White Plains, the pace is slower. People take their time—they enjoy their meals, sip their wine, and catch up on life. It’s the kind of place where you get to know people. When someone walks through the door, they greet me by my first name. There’s comfort in that kind of familiarity. It’s not just about food; it’s about connection. Guests feel at home, and I love being part of that.