“Little Tashkent
on Brighton Beach”
How a chain of Uzbek grocery stores
became a New York landmark
Tashkent Supermarket started as a single storefront on Coney Island Avenue. Ten years later, it has grown into a chain of five Uzbek grocery stores with a hot food bar, spread across New York City. Gazeta team visited the most well-known of them — in Brighton Beach — to find out how the business operates, what draws thousands of shoppers, and why people make the trip from all over the city for plov, manty, and fresh-baked bread.
Over ten years, Tashkent Supermarket has grown from a single store on Coney Island Avenue into a chain of five locations across New York City. Gazeta team visited the most well-known of them — in Brighton Beach — to see how the business operates and why people come from all over the city for plov, manty, and fresh-baked bread.
In Uzbekistan, we welcome our guests with plov, take them to the bazaar for fresh produce, show them ancient cities, and share traditions shaped by thousands of years of history. It's why our country is so often called hospitable and warm. We take pride in helping visitors feel at home.

Some Uzbekistanis have carried that spirit with them thousands of miles from home. In New York, one of the world’s most demanding cities, Tashkent Supermarket has been serving customers for over a decade. NYC Mayor Zohran Mamdani has publicly praised the manty here, and actress Sarah Jessica Parker expressed her excitement over the opening of the fifth location in Manhattan.

Gazeta team visited the Brighton Beach store and spoke with manager Fazliddin Asrorqulov about how the chain operates behind the scenes, how traditional Uzbek recipes have found their place in the United States, and how the store manages to keep prices low enough that a full meal costs just $10–15.
The heart of the neighborhood: “Little Tashkent”
The Brighton Beach Avenue store isn't the first in the chain, but perhaps the most beloved. It’s located on a corner beneath the elevated train tracks, at the busiest intersection in the neighborhood.

Manager Fazliddin Asrorqulov says the location was chosen deliberately. A large share of New Yorkers rely on public transit, and this corner never quiets down — from early morning to late at night, people are constantly moving through.

“On one side, a direct path to the beach. On the other, the subway. And above you, the train. This is where people exit the station — the most crowded spot in Brighton. In New York, many people don’t cook at home. There is no time for it. Everyone is busy. They come in, take what they need, and leave,” he explains.
Brighton Beach has long been known as “Little Odessa,” a nickname earned through decades of immigration from the former Soviet Union, with the largest waves arriving in the 1990s. The first supermarket location opened in 2012 on Coney Island Avenue. It was a small store with little more than the basics, which gradually found its footing. Five years later, in 2017, the Brighton Beach store opened its doors.

“Brooklyn is home to a lot of our people, to many Russian speakers who are already familiar with Uzbekistan, with Tashkent. The name clicks right away,” says Asrorqulov.
Most customers are locals from the surrounding neighborhood. But the manager believes it is not just convenience that keeps them coming back. There is something else at work, the kind of hospitality that Uzbekistanis are known for, translated into small, everyday gestures. If a customer cannot find what they are looking for, a staff member will walk them there, help them choose, and send them off with a warm goodbye.

“The customer always comes first. Always with a smile. That is why people who come once always come back,” says Fazliddin.
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These days, the corner gets called “Little Tashkent” more often. People come here specifically for plov ladled from enormous kazans, a traditional Central Asian cooking pot, steamed pumpkin manty, and freshly baked bread from recipes rooted in Bukhara, Samarkand, and Tashkent.
Inside the store
The Brighton Beach location is divided into roughly 16 to 20 departments, including security at the entrance, checkout, meat, desserts, bakery, grocery, produce, two kitchens, and the hot food bar. The warming trays and refrigerated displays hold over 210 dishes, salads, pastries, and desserts.

Around 36 people work the hot bar alone, serving and restocking throughout the day. The store employs more than 200 people in total and, as Asrorqulov says, the work “never stops” — doors are open from six in the morning until midnight, seven days a week.
Most dishes are rooted in traditional Uzbek recipes. “Plov cannot be changed,” Asrorqulov says firmly. Some items have been adjusted for local tastes, for example, less oil and fat than you would typically find in Uzbekistan. Pumpkin and spinach manty are customer favorites.
Bread is baked in-house, following regional recipes tied to specific regions of Uzbekistan: Tashkent, Bukhara, Samarkand styles, as well as patir, obi-non, and lepyoshka. Each variety has a dedicated baker who trains the next generation of staff.
Everything in the store is halal. If any ingredient in a product raises concern, the item never reaches the shelves and is sent back to the supplier. Meat comes from the chain's own halal slaughterhouse in New Jersey, certified to USDA standards. Sausages and cured meats are produced under the store's own label, Baht.
“We control the entire process, from production to delivery,” says Fazliddin. Maintaining consistent quality in the United States, he adds, is no easy task. It requires significant investment and constant oversight.
Around 20% of products are sourced from Uzbekistan, including dried fruits, nuts, and linseed oil. Select items from Central Asian brands are imported through distributors across the region. Four to five specialized companies handle logistics. The rest of the inventory comes from other CIS countries and American producers.
Tashkent Supermarket employs around a thousand people across its locations, a team that reflects the diversity of New York City itself. Staff come from Uzbekistan, Russia, Ukraine, Mexico, and many other countries. English is the common language, though at Brighton Beach, Russian and Uzbek are heard just as frequently. New employees who don't yet speak English are paired with colleagues who share their language until they find their footing.
“Our food is the advertisement on its own”
At Tashkent Supermarket's hot bar, $10 to $15 is enough for a full, satisfying meal. The portion of plov costs two to three times less than it would at a restaurant. Fazliddin credits the affordable prices to the scale of production and the chain's own supply base.

“To keep prices low, you need to produce more. And most of what we use comes from us,” he says.

Most of the meat used in the kitchen comes from the chain's own slaughterhouse, which gives them direct control over both cost and quality.
Orders can also be placed for delivery. Tashkent Supermarket works with Grubhub, Uber Eats, and DoorDash, and larger locations have their own couriers who deliver orders directly to the door.

The store has its own team handling social media and promotion. The manager, however, believes the real driver has always been the food and the service itself.

“Our products, our dishes, our staff — they became the advertisement,” he says.
In New York, Fazliddin adds, word of mouth does its work. By the time food bloggers found the store and their videos spread across social media, Tashkent Supermarket had already made a name in the city.
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NYC Mayor Zohran Mamdani put Tashkent's manty on the map. In an interview, when asked for food recommendations in the city, he named the store as a must-visit.

“I recently had some manty at a place, I think that was called Tashkent, in southern Brooklyn. Incredible meat dumplings. Check them out,” he said.

When asked whether the mayor's endorsement had any impact on sales, the manager responded with a smile. “We never have enough manty as it is. They are always sold out.”
On any given day, the store draws a diverse crowd. Gazeta journalists spoke with a few of them.
Lila grew up in Uzbekistan, lives in Brooklyn, and comes here almost every day.

“I miss my homeland. There is a longing for home. I won't hide it,” she says, browsing the meat counter.

“I know that everything here is always fresh, clean, and well-prepared. And halal, that comes first.”

Sam and Mary were visiting for the first time, stopping in on their way to the beach. They knew little about Uzbek cuisine and were simply curious to try something new.

Another shopper, a local, comes regularly and always orders the manty. He first tried them at Uma's, an Uzbek restaurant in Rockaway Beach, and has been looking for them ever since.

“The fruit here is always incredible, too. Great selection, great quality,” he adds.
Every location has posters of Uzbek cities on the walls. The atmosphere, Asrorqulov says, is meant to feel like Uzbekistan. When a new customer tries the food for the first time and asks what it is or where it comes from, employees take the time to explain. That, in his view, is what the chain is really about — introducing people to Uzbek culture through food.

Text by Otabek Turdiyev, Farzona Khamidova, Viktoriya Abdurakhimova, and Bakhodir Abdullayev.

Translated by Zilola Toirova.

This material includes photographs provided by fans and Gazeta.


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