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.

Chelsea, though, is a whole different world. Everything moves fast. People are in and out, and you’ve got to stay sharp to meet their expectations. It’s a place where things have to click perfectly—every plate, every drink, every detail. There’s no time to second-guess anything. Balancing both locations means constantly switching gears—sometimes it feels like I’m two people living two different lives. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Running a restaurant today, though, is more complicated than ever. It’s not just about food and service anymore—it’s about surviving in an environment where the odds feel stacked against you. Big restaurant chains have the power to negotiate better deals with vendors, landlords, and distributors. They get longer payment terms and discounts that smaller places like mine can only dream of. It’s frustrating, knowing that we’re all playing the same game, but with very different rules.

Banks don’t make it easier either. Getting a loan comes with all kinds of hoops to jump through, and small businesses like mine are often treated as risky. And with the rising costs of utilities, insurance, and labor, it feels like every decision is heavier than the last. I’ve seen good people—friends—close their restaurants. Not because they didn’t care, but because they just couldn’t hold on any longer.

Still, cutting corners has never been an option for me. In Persian culture, hospitality is everything—you offer your guests the best you have, even when times are tough. That’s something I hold onto tightly at Shiraz Kitchen. It’s not just about filling plates—it’s about making people feel seen and valued. Even with inflation and rising costs, we’ve stayed committed to quality. Our guests notice the difference, and that’s what keeps them coming back.

In today’s world, things feel like they’re shifting constantly. We’ve entered a new era, where personal views and emotions are more present than ever. These dynamics have found their way into businesses, shaping experiences in ways we’re still learning to manage. It’s a process—a careful one—of understanding how we can navigate these new realities while staying true to who we are. Every day is a chance to learn, adjust, and grow, as we figure out how best to move forward in this evolving landscape.

Every day feels like a balancing act—two locations, two different worlds, and all the challenges that come with them. Some mornings feel like a battle. But I’ve learned over the years that the secret is to keep showing up, no matter how hard it gets. It reminds me of those early days, when I wasn’t sure if we’d make it, but I kept going anyway—because every step forward meant we were building something real.

In the end, this is what I love—creating places where people feel welcomed and cared for. Whether it’s in White Plains, where guests know my first name, or in Chelsea, where everything runs with precision, our goal is always the same: to make every guest feel at home, even if it’s just for a moment. And that’s what makes it all worth it.