Neighborhood first
Every buying decision starts with one question: what does Corona actually want to cook this week?
A Corona family started Sea Town with a single fish counter and a chalkboard. Today the market is six counters under one roof, run by neighbors who could tell you where every cut came from.

Real fish, sin cuentos.
Sea Town started as a tiny fish counter on 104th Street, run by a family who couldn’t find the seafood they grew up with anywhere in the neighborhood. So they started bringing it in themselves — cleaning every fish at the counter, marinating every cut and stocking every spice the way their abuelas taught them.
A few years later they moved to the corner storefront on Roosevelt Avenue, added a produce island, then a butcher counter, then a bakery — always in response to one question: what does the neighborhood actually want this week?
Today, Sea Town is six counters under one roof, run by the same family and a team of bilingual neighbors. The doors open at 8am, the music goes on, and the second the lights come up the produce floor smells like a Sunday in the country.
“We didn’t want to open another supermarket. We wanted to build a market that felt like the one our family had at home.”— Méndez family, founders
A short history of the market — counter by counter, year by year.
The first version of Sea Town was a single seafood case run by the Méndez family — twelve feet of ice and a chalkboard with the day’s catch.
After four years on a side street, the family takes over the corner storefront on Roosevelt and adds a produce island and a butcher counter.
A neighborhood panadería partners with Sea Town to bring fresh pan dulce and tortillas to the back of the store every morning.
The founders’ kids step into the day-to-day, expand the dairy and frozen section and add bilingual signage across every aisle.
Sea Town launches its first real website and starts publishing the weekly circular online — same store, same family, just easier to find.
Every buying decision starts with one question: what does Corona actually want to cook this week?
You can ask anyone on the floor where the fish came from, how to cook the cut, or what the abuela would recommend.
Every sign, every label and every conversation runs in English and Spanish — and we’re working on more.
No fake markdowns, no shrinkflation, no fine print on the weekly specials. The price you see is the price you pay.
Doors open every day at 8am. Stop in for a coffee, a fillet, a bag of plátanos — whatever your kitchen is asking for.