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Mother’s Day is always busy in the deli but this year we have something special planned. Because everyone (except me) loves surprises, I won’t spoil it for you.  Just know if you’re at the deli on Sunday for Brunch you’ll get more than just great food and service.  Way, way more.

Truth be told, there are surprises I like.  Not the 5 am alarm company surprise or the Kitchen Manager’s “I’m quitting in the middle of Mother’s Day service” surprise but the nice tax refund one is good.

This Mother’s Day Surprise will bring a smile to anyone’s face and you’ll be talking about it for years to come. Join us and see.

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Thunderin’ Thelma is being featured on FoodTV’s “Eat Street” show Wednesday night.  To celebrate, we’re throwing a viewing party in the deli.  If the weather’s nice we’ll be on the patio with a big screen and a big blue food truck.  Come join us as we celebrate Toronto’s first great food truck on a great tv show. All welcome.

Viewing time in the deli 9pm.  At home 10 pm.

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When I was a little boy, I mean like 2 years old little, my Nana and Papa, Thelma and Sam, respectively, took me to New York. When I returned, my parents asked me what I did there.  I can still see and hear my Nana telling this story over and over through my life.  She would use a very small sing-songy voice as she imitated, lovingly mind you, my answer to that question. “We went to a restaurant and… a restaurant and… a restaurant and…”.

When I was six my parents took my brothers and me to London and Amsterdam and Israel.  My brothers kept journals but my parents had me dictate my thoughts and ideas to them.  My folks recorded my words exactly as I said them.  ”Today we went to the market and saw the chickens and the bread being made,” reads the first line of that journal.

It’s in my blood.  This love for food, for people, travel and for the restaurants and the restaurants and the… you get the idea.

I tell these stories as much for my own appreciation as to enlighten you too about who I am and how I think and feel.  It doesn’t make me special.  It just is.

What makes me special is that 41 years later I went back to New York and guess what I did?  I ate in restaurants. I saw live music. And I attended a Broadway show. My interests have clearly broadened with the passage of time.

Porter Airlines put me on an early flight and the hotel, The Standard East Village, let me check in early.  I dropped my bags and headed for a coffee at Abraco, lunch at Freeman’s and a shopping trip to Astor’s Liquor Wonderland.  My pal Gregory had suggested each of these places and the man hit the trifecta.

I ended up going to Abraco three times in the four days I was there.  It is the smallest and happiest coffee shop in the world.  What makes it so awesome is that Jamie and his crew are waaaaaay cooler than me but they don’t lord that fact over me. They love what they do.  They’re amazing at it and they’re happy to share their gift with me.

Freeman’s is down an alley in the Lower East Side and serves awesome cocktails and totally solid American food.

Devils on Horseback followed by Smoked Trout on toasted rye w boiled eggs and grainy mustard. I sat at the bar where Raphael shook me up a couple of fine cocktails: a Rustic Sour and his own creation called a New Mexican Handshake.

Afterwards, I made my way back to the hotel for a nap. When I woke I walked around the corner to Bianca for dinner.  Instead of having to wait the 45 minutes indicated, George let me in quickly when I showed him a picture of Tia, my FB friend who suggested the place.  Very good Italian fare and great value.  Deep fried gnocci, perfectly cooked chicken livers and a simple spaghetti totally finished me off.

Friday was epic. Breakfast at Shopsin’s in the Essex Market.  Mark Shopsin is notorious for his rules, his temper, his ridiculous menu and his fantastic food.  Only the latter two were on display during my visit.  Shopsin himself was delightful and helpful.  Luke Kaplan worked the floor and took great care of me. He was concerned that 6 Mac and Cheese Pancakes with chorizo and hatch (green chillies) would be too much for me. Especially since I got some sausages on the side.  I ate five and all the sausages with the maple syrup and home made hot sauce.

To digest I walked to Mercer St and met a friend who was also in town for the weekend. Rebecca navigated us by foot up to the High Line – an abandoned railway line that’s above grade and converted into a park. Before heading up the steps we collected a picnic worthy of far greater people than we: lobster rolls, clam chowder and sushi. It was windy as hell but wonderful.

After dropping her off at her place I headed over to Ippudo, a Ramen place near my hotel. Loved it. Mostly I loved watching the really beautiful woman across from me eat her noodles. There’s something very sexy about watching a beautiful woman eat.

Clearly I needed a nap and drunk on noodles and lobster and mac and cheese pancakes w chorizo and hatch I made my way back to the hotel and crashed.  At 5.30 pm I got ready for Round 4: Mile End Deli.  Noah Bernamoff and Rae Cohen opened their acclaimed deli in Brooklyn just after I opened on College St.  We are often grouped together, most famously by the Wall Street Journal in an article about “Artisinal Deli as a New Global Food Trend”. Awesome or what?!?

Noah and Rae were holding a Friends and Family soft opening party at their new location in the East Village.I brought Kevin, another friend from home visiting NYC that weekend and we fressed like champions.  You’d never know that I was on meal number four the way I smashed a beet gazpacho, Roast Beef on Weck and smoked meat poutine.  And I’m totally stealing the Roast Beef too.  That was a fave of mine when I was a kid.

How’d I miss that one? Duh.

Kevin went on his way to another movie in his festival plan and I went back to the hotel for nap #2.  I had a 10 pm reservation at The Dutch and I had every intention of keeping it.  The Dutch is the HOTTEST new spot in the city.  Reservations are impossible.  So how’d I get one the day before? Buddies Norm and Jay at home hooked the brother up.

Unfortunately they didn’t have the dishes I was suggested to order so I had to settle for the Seafood Tower.  Settle?  Hahahhahahahaha. I was in my glory.  In fact, a gentleman passing my table stopped as they will in this town. “You’re eating like a king,” he said. “You are a king,” he said walking on.  

And you know what, motherfuckers? I think he was right. Not better than you. You must know by now that I am as much a motherfucker as the next guy but at that moment, I felt like I was on top of the motherfucking world.  I know I walked home but my feet never touched the ground.

Oh man: I forgot the best part.  Well not the best part but a really good part. After demolishing the tower, the one that was fit for a king, Patrick the Manager came over and we chatted.  He knew I was from Toronto and suggested a few places I might visit in Brooklyn when I went the following day.  He was charming without being too familiar.  A serious pro.

He offered me a digestif which I sipped as I enjoyed my table and looked at the pretty girls and watched the waiters and bussers and bartenders do their thing.  It was an amazing scene.  The waiter offered me pie.  Norm had strongly recommended it but it wasn’t going to happen. “No thanks,” I said.  ”Just the cheque.” “There will be no cheque tonight, Mr. Caplansky,” he said showing me his palms and smiling a pure and perfect smile.

Crazy, eh? The motherfuckers comped me.  Then I walked him as if on clouds blah blah blah.

Strangely enough, when I woke on Saturday morning I didn’t feel hungry.  I went for a walk to try and waken the tiger within.  A coffee at Abraco nudged the tiger but the sight of Russ and Daughters lit a fire under him. Matjes Herring, whitefish salad and a bagel lox and cream cheese with tomato, red onion and capers (don’t forget the salt and pepper) make the perfect picnic in the park along with the Saturday Times and a big latte served by a gorgeous girl with great tits.

Noah wanted to get to Fette Sau early so I kept it light and headed back to the hotel for another nap.  Napping isn’t just for 2 years olds anymore.

I took the subway under the river and met my new friend Noah at the best BBQ place I’ve ever been. Pork cheeks, lamb shank, sausages, pork chops, brisket, potato rolls, pickles, sauerkraut and baked beans. Fette Sau was really the only place on the whole trip I was dying to try and it didn’t let me down.

Even better than the food was the chance to get to know someone I’ve respected and admired from a far.  Noah’s an amazing guy.  14 years my junior and without any restaurant experience he knew things that took me years to figure out.  He has a wonderfully generous attitude along with integrity, sincerity and kindness.  Plus he’s funny.

It felt like dinner with an old pal. Noah drove me back to Manhattan where I was meeting Rebecca and her friends at the Kathleen Edwards show.

Sunday was quite simple. Cousin Neal picked me up at the hotel.  In fact, his boys Sam and Max came in and helped me with my bags.  They loaded me in the car and the four of us went to meet Neal’s lovely wife Carolyn and her friend Lisa.  We all had breakfast at the Popover Cafe.  Here the meal took a backseat to the company.  The kids are just sooo much fun.  Like their mom and dad, they’re smart, funny and very loving.  The kids don’t know me too well because they live in New Jersey but it just felt like family to me.

After breakfast we said goodbye to Lisa and the 5 of us went to Spiderman on Broadway.  I arranged tickets through one of my investors although I hadn’t expected comps.  It was a very generous gift – more so because the show was a blast.  Again, it was the kids that made it special.  Sam sat next to me and Max next to him.  We had incredible seats and when Spidey threw his web it landed all over us.  The kids screamed (the good kind of scream) and it made me feel so good to share this with them.

After the show we hugged and said our good-byes.  Neal drove me to Newark to catch my plane home.  It’s three days later and I remember each moment vividly.

That’s one of the things I like about recording my thoughts.  Like when I was 6 in Israel, its a way to remember how you felt at a particular time and place.  It reminds you who you were then. A kid who is impressed by stewardesses and restaurants or a man who eats like a king and swears like a sailor.

A special “Thanks” to all my friends and family who enrich my life by going a little further than they need to just to look after me. You share your time and thoughts and ideas to make sure I have a great time and live a great life.  Many of you were mentioned here but many more were not.  ”Things will come and go.  They can be replaced but people matter most of all,” my mother says. She’s right. Thanks peeps. I love you all.

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No one’s sitting next to me. A good start.

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Last night I went to a new restaurant.  I was alone but had high expectations because I’d just read about the place in a write up by a prominent food writer.

I sat at the bar as is my want. It was early and the place wasn’t very busy. I liked the room and was greeted by a staff member with one of those smiles that makes you smile back and keeps you smiling till you feel like an idiot and have to force yourself to stop.

The bartender greets me warmly.  He has too many creepy tattoos but I overlook that.  ”Would you like anything to drink?” he asks

“I’ll start with water,” I say. “Something fizzy.”

“We have Q Water,” he says.

“Does it have bubbles,” I ask.

“Oh, maybe you don’t know what Q Water is,” he says. But I do know.  In fact I hate that company but it has nothing to do with the product.  When I was building my restaurant they called me to see if I’d meet with their rep to discuss installing their water system.  I agreed.  They called back to ask if I understood that P Water systems start at $5000 and did I think I could afford that.  ”You know what,” I said. “My business clearly isn’t of interest to you. Let’s forget the whole thing.” From time to time they call me to set up an appointment but I politely decline.

I digress.

I interrupt his description of the P Water system to ask a question. “Does it have bubbles,” I say, a little annoyed now.

“Yes and it costs $2.50 for all you can drink,” he says.

“Let’s have some then,” I say wanting to be sarcastic or sardonic but just wanting something wet in my mouth to wash away the dust of a hard day in the deli.

“Ever been here before,” he asks.

“First time,” I say.

“Do you live nearby,” he asks.

“I do,” I said. “Right around the corner.” I’m looking at the drinks list now.  Some really nice beers.

“What do you normally drink,” he asks.

“Depends what I’m eating,” I say.

“Good answer,” he says.  Now I’m feeling like we’re not friends, never will be friends and maybe I even hate him a little.  He describes the various beers and I order the one that I think will go well with the steak I’ve identified as my date for the evening. Here you order sides separately and as I’m looking he suggests the one with the thing in it that I hate.

“I think I’ll order this other one,” I say.

“That other one is my favourite,” he says. Now I’m plain angry at him. I don’t change my order.  A few minutes later my steak comes.  Its a nice piece of meat and cooked perfectly but not seasoned at all.  I ask the walking ink blot for salt and pepper.

He brings a pepper mill and a little dish of salt.  I remark to myself that I’m disappointed that they don’t use fancy salt like sel gris or Maldon Salt or at least Kosher salt.  This stuff has the granularity of table salt.  I sprinkle some liberally but it doesn’t seem to affect the flavour.  I wonder to myself if my salt sensitivity is off because I’m used to saltier foods.  I sprinkle more on.  Not salty at all. I lick my finger and poke it in the dish.

“Excuse me,” I say. “This is sugar.” The bartender reacts with revulsion and sincere apology.  He goes and gets a dish of salt.  Upon his return with the Maldon Salt (I know, right?) he tells me that my next beer is on him.  I salt my food but can’t eat another bite ‘cuz its too fucking sweet.

“Are you ready for that beer,” he asks.

“No, I’m going to call it a day,” I said.  ”Just the bill please.” When it comes he took care of the beer and the P Water but I didn’t think this was right.  Earlier this evening I told a friend about what happened and she agreed they should have given me another steak. While I know they should have and if I’d have said something I’m sure they would have but I didn’t want to be THAT guy (even if I clearly am THAT guy).

And here’s why I wrote that header on this post:  I said nothing because the place is new. Starting a restaurant is really hard. People make mistakes.  Dude knows he fucked up. Should I write to his boss and demand a free meal? Should I get him fired? Of course not. That would expose me as the asshole that few people know I really am (I’m really not an asshole. I thought I was, but I was mistaken)

In writing this I’ve taken great pains to make the place unidentifiable because it must not be judged on bullshit like this. I’ve always said that you have to love a place to venture in within the first 3 months of it’s opening because stuff like this always happens. They’ll work out the kinks.  They’ll season the steaks better. They’ll know when to offer suggestions and when not to.

It is so easy to criticize.  To pick apart someone else’s mistakes and hold them up to ridicule.  Can you believe that asshole didn’t know the difference between salt and sugar? Yeah, I can believe it because he’s new and he’s just been told 6,582 new things.  He’s trying his best.

That being said, something tells me the dude with the ink won’t be there when I return. However, that girl and her unforgettable smile better be.

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Yesterday we crowned the winner of Battle of the Bubbies: Borscht. But instead of one winner we ended up with three because…

Arturo Anhalt, owner of Milagro tied with Team Elliott an Jeff. While Elliott does work for me he also used to work for Arturo at Milagro.

Confused? Don’t be. It was a fantastic event w 12 entries and 5 Bubbie Judges (actually 4 Bubbies and a Zaidy).

The whole thing was a blast and I appreciate everyone who competed, attended and judged.

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2 weeks ago, while standing in line at the White Squirrel on Queen West, I got a call from a producer at CBC’s Dragons Den. “If we were to have you back to pitch the Dragons again,” she asked “what would you pitch”.  The din of the coffee shop became nothing. It was one of those surreal moments where time seems to stand still, the Earth stops rotating on its axis and you feel like every word leaving your mouth is not even yours.

These are life changing moments.  I guess you could say all moments are life changers but these ones seems to move things along in unpredictable directions and faster than expected.

To make a short story shorter, I’m going back on Dragons Den tomorrow.  I KNOW RIGHT?!?  Elliott, Kevin, Tari and I are going to do our best to bring home the bacon.  I mean brisket.

Last year the truck was an idea.  Now its reality and a just about all of my big talk has come true.  We’ve had significant interest to franchise the truck.  It’s done great business. We need a commissary kitchen to support it, more trucks and the booming catering and deli business.

Are the Dragons hungry to make a deal? The unfortunate part is that I can’t say anything until the show airs.  However, actions speak louder than words.  To quote a former Prime Minister of Canada: “Just watch me.”

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Let me be clear: you don’t need to be a Bubbie or even have a Bubby to enter our “Battle of the Bubbies: Borscht” on April 22 @ 5pm.  However, you do need to be a Bubbie to be a judge and we have a couple more spots to fill.

I love doing these competitions because they’re a celebration of Jewish food culture as well as a way of introducing new people to the deliciousness of my people’s food.  Plus I love to eat.

Please join us as a judge (if you’re a Bubbie), a contestant, or spectator/fresser on Sunday April 22 @ 5pm.

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At 5 am my phone started ringing.  The display indicated it was the alarm company for the Deli.  Sweet, another break-in.  I arrive on the scene in moments and none of the glass is broken.  However, the upstairs tenants are huddled, waiting for me.  They report that they were woken by an acrid, choking smoke.  Fuck.

Looking inside and I can see the haze.  At first I thought it was the early hour or the schmutz on my glasses but now I can see its smoke.  Now where the fuck are my keys? They’re always in the console of my car except today.  I race home and search for the keys.  Nope.  By the time I return there are easily a dozen emergency vehicles surrounding the restaurant.

Fire trucks, police cars, ambulance, the whole schmear.  They had even popped the lock on the glass door and found the problem: someone left a pot on the stove.  The water had evaporated and it caught fire.  Fortunately, the fire suppression system worked and put the thing out.  However, the system releases a fine powder that need to be cleaned up before you can reopen. More good fortune: we’d been scheduled to remain closed because of Passover anyway but 120 people were coming in 2 shifts starting at 5pm.

In addition, we had a number of catering orders to fill and we couldn’t do anything until the Department of Health Inspector gave us the ‘green light’.  We pulled out the power washer and hosed down the entire kitchen.  By 5 pm, with guests sitting in their seats waiting for Passover Seder #1 to begin, the Inspector was still deciding our fate.

Stressful much.  Because he wouldn’t let us touch food until this point, some of the catering was messed up. A more immediate problem was Seder. “We have no food,” said Ross the Kitchen Manager.  He explained the problem and I got it.  ”Let’s improvise,” I said.  Instead of the bbq Brisket, smoked turkey and roast chicken we’d promised our guests, we served them hot dogs, grilled salami and smoked meat.

To their credit, there was no revolt among the guests.  In fact, I never heard a single complaint.  It was wonderful.  The second seder was even better: everyone had such a nice time.  The food was perfect and I was thrilled with the way our team pulled together.

I’ve now been up for 22 hours and it’s time for bed.  Thanks to everyone who made today special: my team, our guests, my family (especially my mom whose fricassee we served), my friends who came out to support me and sent supportive messages all day. I love you all.  Especially you.

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Last year our first community Seder was a great success.  We hosted about 40 people at each of our two seatings April 7 @ 5 pm and 8 pm, telling the story of freedom from slavery and enjoying the traditions and symbols of the Passover feast.

Spaces are filling up fast so please contact me or Kristen to reserve as soon as possible.