I’m very sorry to report that due to overwhelming demand, Caplansky’s dive bar deli will be closed until Thursday Nov 27.  Please accept my apologies for any inconvenience this may cause and know that it hurts me more than you – if that’s any consolation.

It seems like we’ve been hit by a “Perfect Storm” of media coverage starting with the Toronto Life and followed by Now Magazine, Joanne Kates’ Globe and Mail review, Blogto.com and finally the National Post on Friday.  We’ve simply been selling too much too fast and the current batch of meat simply isn’t properly pickled. It takes three weeks for our meat to be properly cured and we’ll need until Thursday to get back to that level.

In my wildest dreams I never imagined we’d be this busy.  Its gotten to the point where the kitchen simply can’t make food fast enough and I’ll have to accelerate plans to move to larger digs.  I pray customers will bear with us and be patient in this time of growth.  

All of that being said, I confess that a few days’ break will do wonders for the mental and physical health of my staff and myself.  Once I put out a proper sign on the door, I’ll be busy cleaning my place and my car and might even get to the gym for the first time in ages.  Although I consider myself a hard worker, I have never worked with the kind of intensity of the last 6 months.  I love what I do but I’m only human and the incident with my back last week indicates I need some balance in my life.  I hope you’ll understand.

J.D. sent me this link this morning…

http://www.blogto.com/toronto/the_best_delis_in_toronto/

We didn’t run out at all today.  In fact it was a perfect day with new faces, regulars, alte kakers and their little ones too.  I love the families who come.  Such warmth. And so odd for a place like the Monarch. Now… a day offish.  I’ll be there doing prep but I won’t be in any hurry about it.

I’m finding out that success brings its own challenges.  Yesterday, Canada’s top food writer, the Globe and Mail’s Joanne Kates wrote a wonderful review of our little place and as a result we will run out of meat later today.  Yesterday was incredibly busy and I expect today to be more of the same.  I hope that those we disappoint will be understanding enough to give us another try.  The problem is that it takes time for the meat to cure and if I’d known about this three weeks ago we’d be okay but following on the heels of Toronto Life and NOW Magazine mentions, we’re close to having to close for a few days just to give the meat time to cure.  

Irving Abella told me last night that running only adds to the mystique.  He may be right but I still don’t like it.  It really does blow my mind to have him, his wife Madame Justice Abella, Joe Rotman and Lionel Shipper in my deli. Frankly I’d rather have happy customers than mystique but I’ll take what I can get.

Don’t get me wrong:  I appreciate the recognition and am grateful that people like what we do.  However, this kind of attention has consequences and never having gone through this before, I can report that I am being pushed to my physical and mental limits.  If I can get through today I’ll be able to rest a little tomorrow and then do it all over again on Tuesday.

Yesterday I went to work with the weight of the world on my shoulders and guess what happened? My back seized up.  In my life I’ve never felt pain like this.  I made it home and into bed but despite my best efforts I couldn’t get up.  Even rolling onto my side took 8 distinct arm, leg and chin movements.  I lay there for 8 hours until Rachel came over with drugs, pizza and sympathy.  The drugs helped me get up to pee and the pizza was the first thing I’d eaten all day but it was the sympathy I enjoyed most.

“You’re really lucky to be closing tomorrow,” she said.  And she would have been right if she was speaking to a sane person.  I remembered that I had 500 lbs of meat coming today and no one to receive it.  After a poor night’s sleep I hobbled into work where the meat truck was waiting.  I opened the beer keg hatch and received box after heavy box of briskets.  I then rinsed the cure off a batch of meat and carried carrying Rubbermaid garbage bins 1/4 full with water back and forth to the cool room.  After that I carried cabbages upstairs, shredded them and returned them downstairs.  Then I bought and roasted a box of chicken bones for stock which is now gently simmering on the stovetop.  Before leaving to do some shopping I set up a batch of mustard to ferment overnight and I’ll go in early tomorrow to make soup and mustard. 

In between and during each of these tasks I gave apologies and explanations to disappointed customers. This is my least-favourite thing to do.  Responses ranged from understanding to incredulous. 

When I told Rachel about my day she got upset at me.  ”You have to take better care of yourself,” she said (and she really has no idea how heavy the boxes or water pails were either).  She even made threats I won’t repeat. But she is right.  I’ve hired a couple of new people and hope to be able to resume my morning JCC workouts and then be at the deli from at least noon to 8 or 10 daily.  A dead deli man is no good to anyone except the worms and his detractors (redundant?).

In any case I’m obviously driven, although not so much by the fear of failure as the desire to succeed in my dream of bringing a great deli back to this wonderful city’s downtown core.  I often fantasize about my Nana and Papa and my Bubby and Zaidy sitting in my deli (of course not at the same table because they didn’t care for each other).  I told a friend the other day that I want to create the best deli this city has ever seen.  This my vision.  I want a dining room with a stage and a catering business with a truck. I want to see families and hear their laughter.  I want to experience the delicious silence of fressers fressing. There will be hiccups and hang-ups.  There will be bumps and slumps and growing pains. But if I were a betting man, sore back and all: I wouldn’t bet against me.

Okay.  Hate me if you will: we have to close on Wednesday in order for the meat to cure enough.  Yes, I’ve doubled up on my supply and yes I’m working double time just to keep up but you’re making it hard because you’re eating more than I ever anticipated.  I always wondered about the concept of the “self-hating Jew” and now I think I get it.  

See, ideally it takes three weeks for the meat to cure which means that I have to anticipate demand three weeks in advance.  Did I know that so many people read Toronto Life or what that would do to my little deli?  Did I know Now Magazine would list us as one of the 200 reasons Toronto Rocks? Did I know we’d be a topic of discussion on CBC radio’s Metro Morning? Of course not.  Am I an idiot? Um, don’t answer, that was rhetorical.

Can you imagine how awful I feel looking at the faces of disappointed customers? It breaks my heart.  A family came in last night after we’d run out of meat.  ”This is the second time,” they said.  Their daughter, maybe 10 years old started to cry but there was nothing I could do except apologize and give them my number to call before they come.  

The new smoker is chugging day and night and my people are working to exhaustion to keep up.  The good news is that those lucky enough to have their orders fulfilled leave with smiles and pledges to return.  

To all the others we’ve had to turn away and those who will come down on Wednesday only to hear my story and get an apology, please know: I am truly sorry.  I appreciate your patience and forbearance.  ”Pain,” according to the Buddha “is part of life. But suffering is optional.”  I know we’ll get through this and be able to satisfy your cravings.  No one need suffer for lack of smoked meat.  Not on my watch.

I just want to give a shout out to the fine folks at Cookshack.  My new (used) smoker arrived on Thursday and its been running constantly ever since.  Hopefully this is the end of running out and disappointing people.  

Is there any difference in taste, you ask.  I think the briskets are smoking more evenly unlike before where the bottom ones would be far smokier than those on top.  However, there is a huge difference in the texture and juiciness of the meat.  If you liked us before, you’ll love us now.

In fact, I was slicing sandwiches at a private function on Sunday and I was amazed at the number of people who hovered around my cutting board as well as those who came back for seconds and thirds. Even the ultra-thin, ultra-chic crowd had more than a few nibbles (no bread of course).  The comments? If my over-inflated ego wasn’t in jeopardy of bursting from all the wonderful press I’ve been getting (apparently we’re one of 200 reasons T.O. rocks according to Now) I’d tell you more. Suffice to say: they almost cleaned me out of food and I brought plenty.  

If Cookshack be the fruit of love: smoke on.  That was for you Mr. Pelech.