A Place to Share, Not Just Eat
When I think about the heart of what we do at Sufi Mediterranean Cuisine and Balboa International Market, it always comes back to one thing—bringing people together. Food is at the center of that, of course, but there’s something even more powerful that happens when people sit down at a table, side by side, and share a meal. That’s why community tables have always mattered to me—not just as a business owner, but as someone who values connection on a human level.
Growing up, shared meals were a central part of life. It wasn’t just about feeding your hunger—it was about laughing, storytelling, arguing, and bonding. It was about feeling like you belonged. When I started Sufi and expanded Balboa Market, I wanted to recreate that same feeling for others. I didn’t just want customers—I wanted neighbors. I didn’t just want tables—I wanted community.
The Power of Sitting Together
Something special happens when strangers sit together at a long table. I’ve watched it happen hundreds of times in our restaurant: two people who didn’t know each other at the beginning of dinner are clinking glasses by the end. Sometimes they realize they’re from the same city back home. Sometimes they’re both missing a piece of culture and find comfort in the same flavors. Sometimes it’s just a simple smile over a shared plate of food that makes someone’s night a little better.
That’s the beauty of a community table—it breaks down walls without needing to say a word. There’s no need for introductions or name tags. You share the same space, the same smells, the same bites. That common experience is enough to start a connection. And in today’s fast-paced world, where we’re all staring at phones or rushing through our meals, those moments of genuine human contact are rare—and needed.
My Inspiration Comes From Home
The idea of a community table didn’t come from a marketing trend or restaurant handbook. It came from home. From the way my parents would always set an extra plate, just in case someone dropped by. From the way my family welcomed guests, no matter how late it was or how small the kitchen. Back then, hospitality didn’t need a reason. It was just how things were done.
When I opened Sufi, I thought about those nights at home—the laughter, the stories, the shared dishes in the middle of the table—and I knew I wanted to offer that same experience to others. Not in a forced way. Not as a gimmick. But as an honest invitation: Come, sit, eat, and feel like you’re part of something.
Food Is a Universal Language
We serve Mediterranean and Middle Eastern cuisine, and while not everyone who comes through our doors is familiar with these dishes, the beauty of food is that it doesn’t need translation. You don’t have to speak the same language to understand the warmth of fresh bread, the joy of perfectly grilled kebab, or the comfort of a fragrant stew. These dishes tell stories, and at a community table, those stories get passed from one person to the next.
I’ve seen someone try a dish they’ve never heard of, only to hear another guest explain its origin and significance. That small exchange turns a simple dinner into something deeper. It’s cultural sharing in the most natural, welcoming way.
Business with Heart
Of course, I want our market and restaurant to succeed. I want people to love the food and come back. But for me, real success goes beyond that. It’s when I hear someone say, “This feels like home.” Or when a regular brings a friend and tells them, “You have to sit at the big table, it’s the best part.” That’s when I know we’re doing something right.
Javid Javdani the pharmacist could have stayed on that path. It was a stable, respected profession. But something in me always wanted to build a space where people could feel connected—not just through medicine, but through meals, through community, through something more personal. That’s what led me to Balboa Market, to Sufi, and to the belief that tables—especially shared ones—can be a form of healing too.
Looking Ahead, Staying Grounded
As our business continues to grow, I always come back to this core value: don’t lose the feeling. Don’t lose the warmth. Don’t forget the purpose. Community tables remind me of that. They’re a physical symbol of what we’re about—welcoming people in, feeding them well, and giving them something meaningful to walk away with.
Even as we cater large events or bring our food into people’s homes through other services, that spirit of connection stays with us. It’s not just about what’s on the plate. It’s about what happens around it.
There’s a lot I’ve learned over the years in business—from supply chains to staffing, from licensing to customer service. But one of the simplest lessons has also been the most powerful: people want to belong. They want to be seen. They want to sit down, share a meal, and feel like they’re not alone. A community table offers that. It’s not fancy. It’s not complicated. But it matters.
That’s why we’ll always make room for it—because at the end of the day, what we’re really serving is connection.