Hushy Goodfield doesn’t work at Caplansky’s. He consults simply out of the goodness of his heart. Hushy knows meat. Now 74, he spent his life as a butcher. His father was a butcher. His brother Louis too. His sons? Rob and Aaron Goodfield have a shop at Bathurst and Steeles called… Goodfield’s Meats and of course they’re butchers too.
When I was getting started in the Monarch, Hushy stuck his bald pate in the kitchen one day and I recognised him immediately. For many years, Hushy was the manager of Donny’s Meat Market where my mother used to buy her meat. I was sent regularly to pick up her orders and truth be told, his sunny Montgomery Burns-esque demeanor used to scare the hell out of me. But when his head appeared in my kitchen it was like that scene from the Blues Brothers where the boys get their epiphany for putting the band back together.
“What are you up to,” I asked, recognising him immediately.
“I’m retired,” he said.
“Guys like you never retire,” I said. “I could really use your help around here…”
“Why do I need the headache,” he said. Two weeks later he called me to offer his assistance.
Hushy helped train our slicers. He took over helping me buy our meat. In fact, when we went to St. Helen’s to make a deal on briskets, I let Hushy do the talking. The next day, Gary Silva our rep at St. Helen’s, calls me. ”Your father asked me to call you about your order,” he said.
“How do you know my father,” I asked.
“Hushy,” he said.
“Hushy’s not my father,” I told him with a laugh. ”I love him like my father but he’s just helping me get this thing going.”
And so it began. And so it continues. Every once in a while he checks in to make sure we’re doing things right. Not getting overcharged in the (literally) cut-throat meat business. Last week he came in and had a bowl of matzo ball soup. He calls me over. ”Your soup is shit,” he says. ”I wouldn’t serve these matzo balls to dogs.” Clearly, diplomacy isn’t his strong suit but know this: when Hushy Goodfield speaks, Zane Caplansky listens. He calls me that night: “My wife Marilyn is going to come in on Wednesday to teach you to make matzo balls”. But Wednesday is my day off and was the second anniversary of the beginning of this adventure. I really wanted some rest.
I was relating this to Dan Dimatteis. Dan was the Executive Chef at Jamie Kennedy’s Wine Bar for 5 years and now consults to Caplansky’s, among others. Dan has raised our game a few notches in just his first week with us. ”Hushy wants me to come in on my day off to make matzo balls with Marilyn,” I whined. ”Isn’t what this whole place is about,” Dan asked. He was right. He gets it. I came in for a lesson and I’m glad I did. I literally cried in my soup when I tasted Bubby Marilyn’s matzo balls.
“Your latkes are terrible too,” Hushy said. ”Marilyn will help you.”
“Here’s my latke recipe,” Marilyn said walking past me yesterday afternoon. “Don’t screw it up.” She gave me her schmaltz recipe too. Until that moment I didn’t realize that you need to add onions to schmaltz to make it taste right. How would I know if no one showed me?
Dan was right. Caplansky’s is all about keeping the recipes and traditions of previous generations alive. I never said I knew it all. I never said I was perfect. In fact, I’m humble enough to take advice from people who know what they’re doing. Hushy and Marilyn (the perfectly named “Goodfields” – from which good things will grow) took time from their lives to help me be better at what I do. Why? Because they love me. Because they want me to be successful and they want to help keep these traditions alive. This is love. According to Scott Peck, author of “The Road Less Travelled”, when you take the time to help another person grow, you demonstrate your love for them.
I’ve tried to hug Hushy a few times but it isn’t easy. He doesn’t hug well. The way we talk to each other you might even think we were angry at each other. Nothing could be further from the truth. He is the master. And I’m doing my best to learn his ways. Wax on. Wax off.
Here’s a thank you to all the Bubbys and Zaidys, mothers and fathers who take time to teach the succeeding generations about what it used to be like. Here’s a special “thank you” to The Goodfield’s for showing me the way. Hushy and Marilyn: I love you too.
