The Immigrant Table · Luis Almazán of Xinachtli

Vancouver, BC · Mexico City → Canada
Heirloom corn, memory, and the work of keeping tradition alive.

Luis is the founder of Xinachtli, a small-batch tortilla project here in Vancouver. He grew up in Mexico City, surrounded by corn that tasted like something alive — complex, aromatic, grounding. When he moved to Canada, he realized how much he missed it. Not just the flavour, but the feeling of home tied to it.

Most tortillas in North America are made with industrialized corn: hybrid, processed, grown with chemicals. Luis wanted something different — something closer to what he knew. So he began importing heirloom, high-altitude corn from Mexico and making his own tortillas.

Over the past six years, he’s also been growing these traditional varieties at the UBC Farm, on a small plot run by Maya elders. It’s slow work, patient work — work rooted in care.

Photographing him felt like watching someone open a series of tiny treasure boxes. Every husk had its own shape, its own colour. Some soft, some sharp, some almost luminous. There’s something humbling about seeing how much history can live inside a single ear of corn.

Luis’s work sits at the intersection of longing and craftsmanship: when you miss something deeply, you find ways to bring it back into the world. His tortillas — the textures, the smell of warm masa, the quiet rhythm of pressing them — carry that story.

This series, The Immigrant Table, is about exactly that: how food becomes a bridge between where we come from and where we are now. How memory shows up through taste. How something so simple can hold so much.

Luis’s work is one of those rare things that feels both old and new at the same time. I’m grateful to have photographed it — and excited to share the next stories soon.

The Immigrant Table · Bardia of Delara

At Delara in Vancouver, chef Bardia prepares a dish from home — something rooted in memory, tradition, and the rhythms of Nowruz, the Persian New Year. It’s a dish tied to his home, to the sound of his mother chopping herbs with a dull knife, and to the scent of steaming rice filling their kitchen in Tehran.

Bardia grew up visiting Tehran’s Tajrish bazaar, where herbs were piled like small green mountains — dusty, fragrant, alive. He remembers washing them in the kitchen with his mother, the scent of fresh herbs lingering on their hands, and the quiet rituals that shaped their meals.

At 19, he left Iran for Canada. What followed was a path that bent and shifted: studying engineering, working at IBM, building a practical life — and then undoing it. Leaving it. Choosing the unknown.

He and his wife moved to France so he could cook, learn, and start again. Food became the thread that held everything together — a bridge between worlds, between past and present, between what he left behind and what he was learning to create.

He recalls holding his new Canadian passport for the first time — feeling both the ache of what he had lost and the weight of everything he had built since. Cooking, for him, has always been tied to this duality: grief and possibility, memory and reinvention.

Delara is part of that story. A space for Middle Eastern cuisine in Vancouver, built from the ground up. A place where cultures meet, where ingredients feel familiar and new at the same time, where the food is an echo of home and a celebration of what’s possible in a new one.

I loved witnessing Bardia in the kitchen — the joy, and the community. And seeing his aunties cooking in the back made the kitchen feel like home in a true sense.

Photography & Words: Sophia Hsin
Restaurant: DeLara, Vancouver
Chef: Bardia Ilbeiggi