Nasrin Rejali cooked her way from the streets of Tehran to Billionaires’ Row. No mean feat. Arriving in the U.S. by way of Turkey in 2016, she’s managed to parlay successful pop-ups into her very own brick-and-mortar, planting a culinary flag for her culture, traditions and cuisine. Nasrin’s Kitchen is not overthought, self-conscious posturing or a history lesson—it’s honest, delicious food, plain and simple.
The restaurant is on the second floor of a dowdy 57th Street townhouse, around the corner from the Plaza Hotel and Central Park. Aromas and the murmur of happy diners do much of the level-setting as you ascend the stairs. The room’s marble walls and columns are obviously incidental—a condition of Rejali’s new home rather than a feature; the Persian touches throughout are an infusion of hospitality and hominess and warmth to the cold, pale, stone surroundings.
Service is, in a word, proud. Servers are happy to share the space with you but not obsequious. They’re gently directive when you want help, hands-off when you don’t. The drinks here play backup, not lead. There are a few wines and a handful of Person beers that are light in ABV but tasty. If you like hot tea, that feels like the house specialty. You’re not obliged to try, but it does feel hand-in-glove.
On her restaurant’s site, chef Rejali states in bold that cooking is an expression of love, and it’s not hyperbolic to say you can practically taste her assertion. These are home recipes rooted in inherited traditions born across the world, refined over decades. But don’t mistake this for a self-serious or didactic experience; nobody is sermonizing here. The menu is simple, cheerful, inviting. The food is easy to understand and everything sounds delicious. It’s sumptuous fare; a beautiful array of spices and textures. Think: smoky kebabs, crisp tahdig rice and warming stews. Each bite presents flavor and texture contrasts: earthiness from nuts, umami from long braises; pops of sweetness from fruit, acid bite from pickles. Plating stays unfussy, which keeps your attention where it belongs.
It’s surely unintentional, but the existence of this restaurant on this street in this building is the perfect metaphor for the vitality and robustness and incredible determination that immigrants bring to our country. For her part, Rejali just wants to cook for you, to share her passion and dedication. That’s the gift here: not trend or theater or politics, but an honest expression of pride and, yes, love.