That’s what motorcycle people sometimes say to each other instead of “ride safe” or “hope you don’t die”.  I love my bike – it’s the best mental health supplement I have.  When I pull away from the curb, all the worries and concerns of the day are left in my dust.  That is, until hear about fellow riders and good friends who got into a spill.

Hey Jeff Peters: glad to hear you had your lid on in Ohio.  I hear you finally got a “halo” – the hard way.  Just do what they tell you and get better soon.

For someone who just loves to participate I must report that winning has a certain appeal too.  After a grueling day of hand-slicing meat for over 1000 people I was informed that the winner would soon be announced from the podium.  I didn’t budge.  ”I’m not moving until I hear my name,” I said firmly but quietly.  Unfortunately the PA system didn’t work so it took a lot of waiving and shouting for me to realise that I’d won and it was time to raise the cup in victory.

The Stop’s Chris Brown gave me a nice bottle of sparkling wine which I promptly shook and popped with appropriate flair.  I filled the cup to overflowing and shared it with my crew.  ”Victory tastes good,” Naomichi said.  He’s right. Moments like these are important to savour because they don’t happen all the time. “Life is difficult” are the first three words from one of my favourite books.  So? When life presents opportunities to party, Caplansky parties.

“We can say it.  I don’t know what it means but we can say it,” says Woody Allen’s character in Love and Death.  When I was 19 I had to endure my cousins Hart and Jordan riffing on lines from that movie as we travelled together in Greece.  Over and over and over.  Strangely enough I laughed every time.  Good times.

Tomorrow I’m leading the Caplansky’s Team at the “Deli Duel” in support of The Stop.  Among the three competitors I have the most to lose because mine is the only deli involved but that doesn’t matter.  In fact, one of the basic truths of my existence as a Deli Man is the constant comparisons with others.  Schwartz’s, Pancers, Centre Street, Carnegie, Katz’s even drek like the Corned Beef House so I’m kind of used to this.  When people ask me how my meat compares to others’ my response is always the same.  ”I do my best and leave the qualitative analysis to others,” I say.

So it will be tomorrow.  A crowd of people will come and fress and cast ballots.  We all do this in support of a great cause.  I hope we have fine weather and that everyone has a great time.  If you’re free, the event takes place at 1pm at the Wychwood Barns at Christie and St. Clair.  I’d love to see you there.   From what I hear, all the cool kids are coming so you’ll be in good company.

Okay… I was going to leave it there but I just can’t.  For whatever reason I’m compelled to go deeper.  If you’ve been following along at home this won’t surprise you.

I have a funny attitude to competitions of any kind.  Do you remember the “Albert” Canadian Tire commercials?  I was Albert.  I was always small and weak and not very athletic particularly compared to my brothers.  We grew up in a townhouse community in North York where there were a lot of kids and a lot of organised sports.  Road hockey and touch football were the most popular and we used to pick teams by appointing two captains and letting each alternate in picking team members.  Not only was it humiliating enough that I was always the last to be picked but arguments often arose because “we had to have him on our team last time – you guys have to take him this time.”  Seriously, I would stand there looking at my shoes and listen to this.  Of course, discussions often arose about excluding me altogether but my brothers wouldn’t allow that.  ”If he doesn’t play, neither would we,” they’d say.

So I’d play.  I’d rarely touch the ball but I played.  Best of all, I loved playing.  Worst of all this pattern repeated itself when I went out for NYMFA tackle football and even playing on an ice hockey team in a D League at the Ice Gardens.  Truth be told I was an exceptional soccer goalkeeper until my age group hit puberty and everyone grew.  I remained relatively small and since taller goalkeepers were most sought after I switched to football.

Anyway, these experiences were character building. They taught me to enjoy participating without needing to win.  They showed me that I’m the last thing from a quitter.  From a business perspective I shouldn’t be in this Duel.  But from a personal perspective, I simply couldn’t resist.  Its just so much fun to be involved.

I’m reading Kurt Vonnegut’s “Breakfast of Champions”. It’s great for me because its written in short choppy bits that lend themselves to bathroom reading.  At the beginning of Chapter 7, our hero Kilgore Trout finds himself in the men’s bathroom of a massage parlour called The Sultant’s Harem.  Someone has posted the question “What is the purpose of life?” in pencil on the tiles by the roller towel.  Personally, I’m not sure that pencil would work on tiles but this is a work of fiction so let’s just let that slide.  Trout has nothing to write with, “not even a burnt match” but if he did here’s what he’d have written:

“To be

the eyes

and ears

and conscience

of the Creator of the Universe,

you fool.”

I fucking love that. The whole thing.  It makes me laugh out loud. Ha!  Maybe that’s why Vonnegut was one of the greatest American writers of our time and I own a deli and write a blog that 5 people read.  I thought there were 7 but it appears my salty language pissed a couple of them off.  Assholes.

Richard Cooper is one of my investors.  ”I’m having a party tonight at Rodney’s,” he said yesterday following our third Shareholder’s breakfast. “You should come.”  Rodney’s? I love Rodney’s.  Plus Richard’s son David is an old friend whom I haven’t seen for too long.  In fact, David did Caplansky’s first website.  I figured this would be a good opportunity to catch up.

What a blast!  Richard’s father Sid was there. Sid, a builder and philanthropist and my Uncle Ernie Goodman, a developer, have been best friends all their long lives and one can only imagine the trouble those two caused in the day.  Even in his advanced years, you get the impression that Sid is still ready to tear it up and at the same time he’s a complete gentleman.  Anyway, it was a great party.  It was kind of like a Rogues Gallery of the not quite ‘Alte-Kacker’ set.  Kind of like the kids of the Alte-Kackers.

Funeral magnate Michael Benjamin was there and we joked that our businesses are complimentary.  The Belzberg brothers Brent and Murray were there.  Their affection for each other was heart warming.  I saw Kenny Tannenbaum whom I travelled with in Europe when we were 19.  Michael Sax came after dropping his son (Author and James Beard Award winner but most importantly my friend) David off at the airport.  Myron Gottlieb was there.  My cousin Dr. Teddy Shapiro was there. And then I saw Rodney.

I went over to say hello as Rodney was talking to Richard Cooper.  Rodney is someone I’ve always admired.  Like me he started modestly but his is the kind of business I aspire to have: the highest quality and consistently busy.  We had a great chat.  He told me a great story about going to Ben’s in Montreal.  Ben himself was on his stool near the door and just as I was doing now, Rodney went over to ask The Man for some advice.  ”My father paid a nickle more for the better beef,” Ben told him.  In fact, Rodney said, “that was all he said”.  Sounds Forest Gump-ish and I liked it.  ”So,” I said to Rodney “what’s your advice for me?”  ”It’s not about you, Caplansky” he said smiling that big East Coast grin of his, folding his big, meaty arms.  ”It’s about the beef.” He said a number of other things too but that will remain between us. Suffice to say he’s as generous as he is gregarious.

And with that I hopped on my bike and rode to Enoteca Sociale for a light dinner with Tenzin.  When I was the Manager of the Magic Oven Tenzin was my Assistant as well as my successor.  When I opened Caplansky’s two years ago I asked him to join me but the time wasn’t right for him.  He’s very loyal to our former employer so I never pushed too hard.  However, the Dupont location has been taken over by a new group and Tenzin is ready for a new challenge.  His timing couldn’t be better.

I told him that having him join us allows me to step back into the kitchen to implement our new menu.  Dan DeMatteis and I have put together an updated card that I couldn’t be more excited about and it’ll take a lot of hard work and some new equipment to pull it off.  Dan’s such an incredible talent and working with him has been a blast. As Rodney said, its all about the food and that has to be my highest priority.  It is and will always be.

The scene at Enoteca was cool and the food was excellent.  Although, with the oysters, lobster and jumbo shrimp I was still digesting, I didn’t have much of an appetite.  The lovely Lauren Wilton greeted us at the door and I waited at the bar next to very hot Hoof server Julia (last name and telephone number unknown – hint).  Old friend Ezra Braves 0f Ezra’s Pound fame and wife/lawyer Heather were dining with her partner/lawyer Joel Guberman and his gorgeous friend Jennifer.  Ezra’s Pound is located next to the Magic Oven and I knew Ezra from his first days there.  In fact I told the story of how Ezra helped make it happen for me.

Back then I had this wonderful smoked meat and nowhere to go.  Being broke didn’t leave me too many options.  I was telling Ezra about my hopes of opening my own shop and outlined my three options as I saw them.  I could find a postage stamp of a place and do strictly take-out. I could see what the “Toronto a-la-carte” program offered (I’m so glad I didn’t touch that piece of shit idea with a 10 ft pole).  Or I could move into the defunct kitchen on the second floor of the divey Monarch Tavern on Clinton St for little or no money.  ”If you can get a kitchen for free, grab it,” Ezra said.  I literally left his cafe, went to the Oven and called Louis (Prince of Darkness) Cristello at The Monarch.

The rest, as they say, is history.

“You want to know how crazy I am,” Terry Saltsman asked me earlier today. Of course I wanted to know.  Dwelling on my own craziness gets dull after 42 years so its nice to hear about someone else’s mishugas (craziness).  ”I’m in Berlin a couple of weeks ago working on a TV show,” he said.  ”Would you believe I checked your blog?  You really should write more often.”  That is crazy.  Flattering but crazy.  He seems otherwise normal.  Has normal seeming kids.  Loves my borscht so he has good taste and he’s an above-average tipper. Seems like a really nice guy.  So what’s with the deli blog obsession?  Surely Berlin has enough distractions that the thought, ‘gee, I wonder what that Caplansky is kvetching about these days’ really shouldn’t occur to him. But it did.

Why are you reading this? Yes, you Terry Saltsman and the other 7 people who read this dreck.

I confess that it embarrasses me when people tell me they read this stuff.  I had a guy walk in a while back and he said something I’ll never forget.  ”I read your blog,” he said “so I know a lot about you but you know nothing about me.”  Of course that’s not true.  I know he has too much time on his hands but I was so taken aback that I just shrugged and showed him to a table. He wanted take-out.  What do I know?

Seriously, why are you reading this?  If you’re looking for the Meaning of Life you won’t find it.  That was just a ruse to lure you in.  Actually, I lie.  You will discover the Meaning of MY Life.  And if that serves as a distraction or even temporary relief from your own souris (worries) then at least I’ve accomplished something here besides teaching you the miniscule Yiddish I know.  As for the Meaning of YOUR Life, good fucking luck.

So what’s the Meaning of MY LIfe?  Simple really:  I believe my life is about growing to become my best self.  I’ve observed that I keep making the same mistakes until I learn the lesson and make changes.  Sort of like my man Charlie Brown.  He lets that little bitch Lucy hold the ball for him to kick and every time he tries to kick it she pulls it away and he winds up naked on his back.  No matter how many times it happens he believes her when she promises that this time it will be different.  Idiot.  The only way to win is not to kick the damn ball.  Then at least he’d keep his clothes, his dignity and get to stay on his feet.  Poor Charlie.

I was just like him for so many years.  Kept trying to kick someone else’s ball.  Play by someone else’s rules.  Fuck that noise.  Do I sound angry?  I’m not.  In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.  I swear as a means of expressing myself and at the moment, I’m really fucking happy.  Do you know I got my mouth washed out with soap for swearing when I was a kid?  Of course you don’t.  It was humiliating and only made me more angry (kids swear because they’re angry).  At least my Bubby Doris was strong enough to fire the culprit. That’s why I talk this way: because I can. And that’s why I’m happy:  I am finally strong enough to be the man I always wanted to be. Okay, maybe I wanted to be a slightly thinner one than this one but I’m getting there.  Life is a process.

Speaking of processes… a new menu is on the way.  The first draft is done and now we’re testing and retesting the recipes.  Can’t tell you how excited I am.  That’s a lie too.  I’m really fucking excited. Clues? Nope.  But it should be ready in time for our 1st Anniversary on September 5 and I promise you’ll love it.

In a previous life, when I managed political campaigns for love and money, I used to implore candidates not to mention anyone except their spouses in their victory (or defeat) speeches.  I learned first hand how painful it feels to be left out of the list of “thank yous”.  It happened more than once.

In this context, I’ve thought a lot about my previous post.  I didn’t mean to imply that Paul was our only superstar. Of course I stand by what I posted but I want everyone who works at Caplansky’s to know that we are all superstars in our own way.  It may be easy or convenient to highlite the contribution of an outgoing team member like Paul but that doesn’t denigrate or diminish the contribution that we all make.

From time to time I may mention someone who does something exceptional or funny or interesting but I’ll do my best to resist playing favourites in this blog or in the deli.

Today is Aussie Paul Hlaihel’s (don’t even bother with the pronunciation) last day at Caplansky’s.  I realise that I seem to vent and write and discuss the difficult cases and overlook the bright lights on the team so today I doff my cap in Paul’s direction.  From his first day with us we all could see he’s something special.  And when his family visited from Down Under it gave me tremendous pleasure to let them know how much their son and brother means to us here.

Paul is a pro.  He’s great at his job because he cares about it and he imbues his work with his larger than life personality.  Paul makes it fun to come to work because you know that as long as he’s there, all will be well.  But its more than.  He was the life of our staff Christmas party as mc of the Cappie Awards and helped us all laugh at ourselves and each other.  He’s one of these people that everyone likes and likes to have around.  And he puts a lie to the idea that I’m impossible to work for.  Paul and I never had a moment of conflict because he knows when to bear down and hustle and when to dial it back.

Paul doesn’t cut corners or give customers less than his best even when he’s not at his best.  We all have bad days and even bad hair days but the pro’s rise above all that.  They can smile through the pain.  Customers love Paul as do his coworkers.  For my part, I let him know that should he ever want to return, there’s always a place for him at Caplansky’s.

Enjoy your summer in Greece, young man.  You will be missed over here but we are better for your contribution.

I’ve blogged earlier about the miraculous Jessica Roher but I’m not done.  My ecstatic ‘welcome back Jessica’ post was totally justified and here’s why:

As you may or may not be aware, February (denial) was brutal business wise and when Doug showed me the numbers in March (anger), they hit me hard.  Its hard to describe this turn of events.  We started so hard and fast that seeing an empty restaurant in February was terrifying.  I think it had a lot to do with expectations because I thought January would be slow but it wasn’t at all.  February was a different story.  ”They stayed away in droves,” some funny person once said.  I didn’t know if we’d pissed everyone off and they weren’t coming back or if this was simply a seasonal adjustment.

Fortunately it was the latter and in March people came back.  Business was good, however, in March the problem shifted from lack of sales to out-of-control labour cost as we tried to find the right team in the kitchen with little success.  This continued into April (bargaining) and early May (depression) until the “whole kitchen quit” episode which I see as the turning point.  Actually, there was another turning point earlier.

As I mentioned Jessica is now our bookkeeper.  This means that she works in the dungeon-esque basement office usually alone or sometimes with Doug.  The nice thing is that I can go and talk to her or them in private and work out whatever anxiety I have to work out.  During one of these work out sessions in April and in between the hair pulling and gnashing of teeth Jessica looked at me with heartbreaking eyes and uttered the phrase no man ever wants to hear: “What happened to you?”

Since we’ve known each other and worked together in three different businesses over 4 years Jessica knows me better than most and has the maturity and guts to tell me the way it is. In fact, during my anger phase back in March I actually yelled at her over something really stupid.  ”Ok,” she yelled back “You get three strikes and that’s number one.” Take that Caplansky.  A month later she cornered me with the phrase no man wants to hear and continued “At the Magic Oven you were the best manager ever.” she said.  ”That place ran that place like a clock.  Why can’t you do that here.”

Holy shit, she was right.  The mistake I made was that I didn’t think I had the skills to manage Caplansky’s.  This wasn’t a staff of 15, we were 50.  Everything was 4 times bigger than I’d ever experienced.  I thought I needed other more experienced people to run the place.  I hired two floor managers, a catering manager, a bar manager, a kitchen manager and a prep manager.  After Jessica’s intervention I fired or eased each of them out and replaced them with Assistant Managers who report to me.

The last piece came together when the kitchen staff quit in early May and I strapped on an apron and got back to the stove.  That same day I sent a semi-desperate Facebook message to Dan DeMatteis.  The message was simple: “I need your help”.  We had dim sum a few days later and I laid out the odyssey of the last ten months as honestly as I could.  Dan agreed to join us on a consulting basis with the understanding that he would review our recipes, help create a repertoire of lunch and dinner specials, train staff, organize the kitchen for cleanliness and efficiency and help find the right person to take over full-time.  If you’ve eaten our food lately, you’ll know what a stunning success he’s been.

Yesterday Jessica comes in to the office and we had a great chat about the current state of affairs.  Things aren’t perfect. We had a flood on Tuesday that destroyed the chest freezer.  The display fridge has been broken for weeks and the replacement is promised on a daily fucking basis without appearing.  The air conditioning hasn’t worked since the idiot Sasha installed the new furnace in December.  Clearly, we have our issues and struggles but Jessica said the most amazing thing to me. “You seem so calm, even kind of happy despite everything,” she said.  ”I think I’m learning that this is what comes with the territory,” I said.

In the restaurant business we don’t get nice, quiet days or if we do it’s a really bad sign.  Every day is fast and furious and thats what I love about it.  Stuff breaks.  Shit happens. Ray Liotta walks in sits at my bar. I fucking love it.

Jess then puts it all in perspective.  ”It’s like the 5 stages of Grieving” (the Kubler-Ross model) she said. You’ll notice I’ve inserted each stage roughly next to the month when it occurred.  ”But what am I grieving,” I asked.  Long silent pause.  Then I remembered something I’d said to Andrew Soren, Bev W and Joel Solish over a wonderful dinner at Parts and Labour on Queen WWW.  ”Zane Caplan is dead,” I told them as we were discussing my last blog post and the whole issue of changing my name.

Now it made sense.  All this time I was letting go of my past, saying good-bye to the person I once was.  Seems you can’t rush these things.  There’s a process involved but it all works out in the end. Thanks Jess.

Epilogue to this post:

I got home late last night feeling like Leo DiCaprio in that movie about the big boat and the iceberg, all ready to write the above when I received a message from a disgruntled customer.  Below is an unedited (except I’ve removed his name) cut-and-paste of our exchange.

Him:
had an awesome lunch today. Ate nothing, drank nothing, didn’t even talk to a single staff member for 15minutes upon arrival. S’cool though, the Burger Bar seated us right away with an offer of beverages & prompt service. P.S. – Social media’s a bitch.

Me:
Ummmm, yeah, glad you enjoyed the Burger Bar. Next time try Free Times. Way to go.

Him (at 7am today):
Have you seen the Caplansky’s hate page? Funny shit.
Good business model ya got there. But as ‘Bad ass hipster’ who gives a fuck right?

Him (at 8am today):
So, I am laying down my weapons. It seems you have many apologists who, it turns out, are mutal friends, people I consider buds.

Seems this guy came in and was unfortunately ignored for 15 minutes.  I didn’t get the “social media’s a bitch” bit until he mentioned the “hate page”.  I think what he did was create a Fb “hate page” but took it down some time later.  All because he waited 15 minutes.  Let’s have a show of hands for everyone who has experienced this.  We ALL have.  It happens. He also posted a comment on my blog which didn’t make the cut. Sorry, dude.  Not even sure why he calls me a “hipster”.  I present this simply to give you some flavour of what its like to be me.  He could have brought this to my attention and given me a chance to make it right but he didn’t do that.  Yes, dude, it sucks to be ignored for 15 minutes when you’re hungry or in a hurry and I’m sorry it happened but I can assure you it wasn’t personal.  The next time you come in, then it will be personal.

Or as my father once said: “Don’t go away angry, just go away.”