Sorry for the silence, beloved readers.  It’s nothing personal or I should say: it’s not you, it’s me.  Too cliche? I love cliches because they’re all true.  And since I love truth more than you can understand, cliches are a simple way to express a simple truth, simply.

It’s late and I’m very very tired.  Not from being up so long but from being up so long. Yes, you read that right.  I’m trying to be ironical.  You see, I’m just past the 3.5 year mark of restaurant ownership and it’s hard to maintain your energy, or “stay up” for so long without rest.

But rest awaits me in Havana the day after the day after tomorrow.  It has been so long. And thanks to Maria G., I’m going for two weeks instead of one. My iPhone will stay here.  I’m bringing books.  In fact, I’m bringing a Lonely Planet guide.  To most this is just a guide book but at one point in my life it was my bible.  Rather, my Bible.

Between 1992 and 1997 I worked and travelled my way around the world.  Can’t remember if I’ve told you about that time in my life.  Probably have but it bears repeating.

Started in Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore and then Indonesia. Doubled back through Malaysia and Singapore and then more of Indonesia. Hopped down to Sydney where I lied my way into my first restaurant job waiting tables at Il Paradiso in North Sydney. Got another job as a steward on a catamaran that sailed out of Darling Harbor taking weddings, parties, anything (if you’re Aussie, you’re laughing at my musical reference) aroound Sydney Harbor. Under the bridge. Past the Opera House. Throught the Heads and back. I loved those jobs.

3 months hitchhiking in New Zealand., mostly on the South Island. A return home for Mark and Claire’s wedding followed by a quick family attack on New York (New York withstood the assault but we did some damage). And onto London where I found work as a Bartender at the Big Easy BBQ Crab Shack.

I had a great life in London. Great friends.  Gorgeous girlfriends. Great flat with funny roommates and Teddy the dog. My Nana visited me in London but that’s another story you’ve already heard.

After London it was Paris (deep sigh – I adore Paris) and onto Dachau in Germany where a dear friend lived.  Then onto Budapest and Prague where my mother joined me. Together we travelled through the Czech Republic and Poland before meeting my sister Meredith in Russia.

3 weeks in Russia and then a 7 day train ride from Moscow to Beijing.  3 months in China including a week with family in Hong Kong, 2 weeks in Tibet, 2 weeks in Nepal and then 6 months in India where I opened and operated a small chai shop in the foothills of the Himalayas.  I couldn’t make this shit up even if I wanted to.

All the while Lonely Planet Guides were a constant and incredible source of ideas and information. It feels great to have one in my hands again.  I bought a used one just like old times. We’d trade the one we carried over a border with someone going in the opposite direction.

Back then just about everything I owned I carried on my back.  I owned no keys.  Carried no debt.  Employed no one. Drove nothing. I was poor by all standards except one: I had a wealth of time and I spent it lavishly.

Believe it or not, at least one day per week I need a break from all that lavish time spending.  It’s hard being perfectly self-indulgent.  Takes a lot out of a guy. On those days “off” I’d lie on the grass in front of churches and read. Or I’d sit in cafe’s and drink tea and sample every unrecognizable desert until I’d had my fill and read. Or I’d ski. Until I blew my knee out there was nothing I couldn’t ski. Or I wrote letters. Scads of letters.

I have no agenda in Havana.  Nothing on my “must do” list. Mojitos? Of course. Hemingway? Not really. Cigars? Only as gifts. Well…

It’s been so long since I had nothing to do and no where to go.  So long.

I love this stuff. A number of the better restaurants and catering companies in Toronto ask us to cater for them and their staff. Tonight it’s Marigolds and Onions.

Al, the owner, came to the deli in December and booked us. These guys are top drawer and I’m honoured to be asked. When we showed up tonight Al told me that his son called him after his plane landed from Vancouver. Al’s son wanted to stop by Caplansky’s before coming to the party. “I told him not to worry,” Al said “Caplansky’s coming to us tonight.”

Here I am blogging as guests start arriving. Service doesn’t start for another hour but it’s a good opportunity for Kristen and I to see how the big kids play. Total pros.

Gonna keep this short but I know I haven’t posted in too long. The weird part is that there is so much going on to tell you about. It just hasn’t come together yet.

Hang tight. I’ll tell all soon.

On Friday Aneesa came downstairs to let me know someone wanted to see me at the bar. “He says he has something for you,” she said. Cynically I figured it was a sales person. You can’t blame me too much because the day before that LivingSocial had sent me an iPad2 that I didn’t order to keep track of their Instant Deal redemptions that I didn’t agree to.

With my cynicism safely tucked in my pockets I went upto the bar.  Just one guy sitting there. Didn’t recognize him.  ”You may not remember me, ” he said like all sales people do “but I used to go to the Monarch.” Whatever.  Can we move along to the part where I tell you I’m not interested and you go away? “You once gave me a coupon when you ran out of meat,” he offered hoping to stoke my cynically impatient memory.  No dice, Bub: I don’t know who you are.

“I think I have something that belongs to you,” he said and reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of iPod earphones.  Dude, LivingSocial sent an iPad2 and I wasn’t interested.  Earphones? Really?

Only now in writing this do I appreciate how truly cynical I’m becoming and how badly I needed this man’s gift.  Maybe sensing my impatience he followed the earphones with a slim Blue iPod. “Is this yours?” he asked.  ”Was it stolen?” he wanted to know.

Holy shit. “Yes,” I said realising that the man in the long white beard and red suit really is Santa.  Not really. This guy was in his mid 40s, no beard and dressed slightly nicer than me.  No red suit. But like Santa he did produce a Christmas Miracle.

“Where did you find it,” I asked finally holding the long lost device. He told me his name is Lawrie and one of his employees bought it off someone on the street.  He checked the name and saw it was registered to me.  I was floored.  In one smooth gesture Lawrie took the cynicism out of my pocket, shoved it down my throat and made it taste kind of good.

“You’ll let me reimburse the person that bought it,” I said.  ”Don’t worry about it,” he said.

“At least you’ll let me buy you lunch,” I said. “I’ve eaten,” he said. “I just want to pay it forward,” he said referencing the brilliant Hayley Joel Osment/Kevin Spacey movie with the unfortunate ending.

I was telling Tenzin earlier in the week that my faith in Karma relieves my instinct for revenge.  Even so, I have a tendency to hang onto hurts as if I could have avoided being stolen from, betrayed or taken advantage of if only… If only… Intellectually I know this is nonsense.  There are people who will steal, betray and take advantage if given the opportunity.  And there are also people like Lawrie.

Thanks Santa.

Adam McKinlay’s awesome. I put out a call for help this weekend and he answered it. I called his cell to make arrangements to meet at the deli at 9 am to load in. Strangely (or not if you know me at all) I really wasn’t sure who he was and didn’t look at his profile on the Book of Faces which would have been the natural thing to do.

So when he said “I’m Jess’ friend” I heard: “I’m Jeff’s friend.” I totally zoned out on the “former chef at L’Unita” part. If you read my last post, you’ll surmise that I have a lot on my plate. Anyway, I know a Jeff and he has a friend who cooks. And that’s who I thought was meeting me on this cold rainy morning.

When Adam showed up I still had no clue. Maybe it was the beard or the 4 hours of sleep or whatever it was but I just whiffed on this one. As I said: I have a lot on my mind. We go about packing up the truck for the last day of the Roller Derby World Championships at Downsview Park. However, no one noticed that the fry baskets were left behind until we got to the park – a long distance away.

I asked Adam to go back to the deli with my car to pick up the baskets and a few more things. In his absence we were pretty slammed and poorly organised. Within minutes of his return a sense of calm and order overtook the three of us. Laughter was heard and we had a really good time.

“Where did you say you worked,” I asked. Clearly this guy is no journeyman cook. He’s the real deal. “L’Unita,” he said. “And before that at Lucien.” OMG. This was Adam. Adam! What an idiot I am. We’d hung out at Jesse Vallins’ place a few times and I’d seen him at Lucien a couple of times too. I started laughing almost uncontrollably. I was embarrassed and really happy all at the same time. Adam from Lucien. If he’d said that from the first… doesn’t matter.

The menu today was a little messed up because we ran out of smoked meat on the truck yesterday. It was busy. Very busy. To compensate we tried two new things: a grilled cheese sandwich and a grilled salami sandwich – both on rye. “Maybe we could do the salami on these onion buns,” Adam said pointing to the buns we serve the bbq brisket on. We had lots so I agreed. Whenever anyone ordered that sandwich I offered them cheddar cheese. It looked sooooo good.

After serving a few of these griled salami on onion bun with honey mustard and cheddar Adam got an idea. “Hence forth this sandwich should be known as ‘The Bingo’,” he said. I smiled. Totally. Every time a customer asked for a salami sandwich I offered them cheese. “Bingo” I called out. Adam would respond in kind and a sandwich was born.

Genius comes in many disguises and at its own pace and place. I believe we rarely recognize genius except in retrospect. Today this was not the case. Genius worked with me in the delimobile I named after my grandmother on a cold and rainy day in December as we fed the people taking part in the World Championships of Roller Derby. God bless us all.

Yesterday was spectacular. Today was no slouch either but yesterday was the bomb. We scored the deli equivalent of racing’s “Trifecta” by nailing a strong day in the dining room, an incredible delimobile event and Christmas Party catering, wait for it… all at the same time.

This is why I left the Monarch.  I knew we had an opportunity to grow beyond being a sandwich shop on the second floor of a legendary bar and do something really special. The best part is that we don’t have to sacrifice quality as we grow.  The quality of the meat in the dining room, Thunderin’ Thelma and in the law offices of Derstein Penman was by all accounts: delicious.

Like the Queen’s Park Press Gallery Christmas Party this coming Wednesday, we’ve catered the Derstein Penman Partay three years running.  I love showing up and seeing familiar faces.  I still love slicing meat.  I love watching people enjoy my food for the first time or for the umpteenth.

What’s new is this truck business and the World Championship of Roller Derby going on at Downsview Park.  Women on roller skates competing against each other in a physically punishing display that stimulates appetites among competitors and spectators alike? Cue Thinderin’ Thelma. When I was a kid my mother forbade us from watching Skinny Minny Miller and others bash the crap out of each other in televised Roller Derby.  We watched anyway.  Now I’m earning a living feeding these athletes? Awesome.

This is the stuff of hot cockles: the realisation of dreams long held but not loudly discussed.  We did it. Not without difficulty or stress or thoughts of giving up.  And against the odds too.  Of course, the key is to keep doing it and to never let up.  I get that.

The restaurant business is tough.  Starting one in a recession? That’s tougher still.  Doing it with $4,000 in my pocket? Actually that’s no biggie at all.  As Bob said: “When you ain’t got nothin’, ya ain’t got nothin’ to lose, bitches”.  I added the ‘bitches’ part.

Don’t get me wrong.  It’s not over.  What’s that other cliche (aphorism really)… ‘not the beginning of the end but the end of the beginning’? The business of Caplansky’s is growing nicely but arrogance and conceit will not grow in the hot cockles of this heart.  I’m only as good as my last sandwich. Only as strong as the weakest member of my team.  Only as hot as the mustard… okay, I’ll stop now.

I’ll close with the advice of one of my investors: don’t let a few good months go to your head.  Thanks, Richard.  I won’t.

Craig Sutherland has a good heart and a bad mustache.  You’ll recognise Craig with or without his handlebar ‘stache as a meat slicer at the deli.  I’ve written about him previously when he was photographed by Ed Pond (who single-handedly revived the smoked cheesecake at Caplansky’s, by the way).

Please donate to Craig’s Movemeber campaign by clicking here: http://mobro.co/mustasheforadonation

As a teaser for their performance of la Boheme at the Tranzac on Thurs Fri and Sat this week, Rebecca Khalil and Christopher Mokrzewaki gave a short performance at the deli today. I love this stuff. Thanks to Nancy Hitzig for hooking it up

My Nana, me at 4 and baby

This photo was on my Nana’s dresser when she died.  I was there too – in the room, holding her hand not on the dresser.  It was a moment I’ll never forget.  About 8 months before that moment I’d decided to leave.  Move away and call a “do over” on my life. Clearly, things were not going my way.

Then I found out she was dying and I knew I’d regret leaving her to die without knowing how much I loved her.  I’d made mistakes before and she always forgave me but this was a for keeps.  This was the end. The whole enchilada or in her case, the whole blueberry pie.  So I decided to stay and see her through.

I rented an apartment on Vaughan Rd. and visited her as often as I could.  I wasn’t working so I went over a lot.  Her nurse told me I was her favourite visitor.  It was an awful time for all concerned.  It’s hard to see a grand lady wither and die before your eyes.  Of course it’s easy to exaggerate someone’s virtues and flaws after they’re gone but my Nana was one of a kind.  ”Your Nana always tells it like it is,” she’d say and she was right.  She was always (usually) right.

Smart, funny, strong, beautiful, opinionated, sophisticated, wise and a great cook. Thelma Goodman was a dominant figure in many of our lives and she remains with us in many ways.  And I honour her by naming the Delimobile after her? Yes. Yes. and Yes.  Nana was a force of Nature. Tomorrow the photo above will hold a place of honour in the deli too.

Why am I waxing poetic about my Nana? The nice people who produce “Eat St.” asked for a pic of the original Thundering Thelma to work into their feature on the Delimobile to air in the Spring on FoodTV.  Now that I see it on my computer screen it just makes me want to connect the dots.  For me and for you, dear reader.

Nana loved to cook for her children and grandchildren.  My parents, my aunt and uncle and my Nana and Papa owned three cottages in Huntsville.  My grandparents’ place was by far the most modest.  In fact, my Nana heated her place and cooked on an old wood stove.

Every morning when she was ready to ‘open for business’ my Nana would raise the west-facing blind in her window.  This was our signal that we were welcome to come and be served scambled eggs, bagels, cream cottage cheese, lox, ripe red tomatoes, red onions, herring, orange juice, coffee, porridge, you get the idea.  All of us would assemble there with friends, guests, and eventually with her great-grandchildren. Kind of like a flash mob now that I think about it.

She worked hard to please us but you’d never know it the way she talked and laughed while filling and re-filling plates and cups.  What a woman she was.  Sometimes I’d stay and help her wash up.  It was a magical time. Yet, for me there was an even more special time with her.  When I was 26 or 27 and working as a bartender in London, my Nana came and spent a week with me.  74 years old and partying it up in England with her grandson.

She even baked a suitcase full of mini blueberry pies (my favourite thing in the world was my Nana’s Blueberry Pie).  Nana froze them raw before departure and triple wrapped them then shlepped them across the Atlantic and through customs.  We walked and talked for days.  Laughed and cried too.

On Christmas Eve she did something very funny.  Nana called the Dorchester Hotel one of the grandest old hotels in London.  She called to make a reservation for us for Christmas Eve.  Of  course she was told that was impossible.  It was Dec 23 and they’d been booked for ages. Using a voice I’d never heard she told the person on the phone the following lie: “50 years ago, my husband and I had Christmas with you and now that he’s gone I wanted to bring my grandson and pass on the tradition to him.” While she sounded old and frail she was anything but.  She was hilarious. It worked.  We high five’d and did a little dance around my living room.

Did she love me? Come on now.  Of course she did.

Now this photo and the awful pink, grey and white frame I inherited with it (“made in Italy for Creeds”) sits on my dresser.  I look at it every day and remember what a remarkable woman she was.  Can’t say I miss her because she’s such a huge part of me but what I wouldn’t do for one more bite of Nana’s Blueberry Pie.

Life certainly is difficult but it can sometimes also be forgiving.  Or at least it can offer the opportunity for forgiveness if you work hard for it.  This past weekend was a good example.  Not since the opening weeks of the deli back in September 2009 have we see crowds like we saw this weekend.

Thanks to CBC’s Dragon’s Den (as well as CBC Radio’s Metro Morning and The Globe and Mail) people came from far and wide to taste the food they saw and heard the Dragons enjoy.  Line-ups lasted from 11 am to 4 pm. It was busy but not crazy or insane.  No one panicked.  No voices were raised.  No one waited more than 20 minutes and the only thing I saw sent back was a basket of fries.

It was wonderful.  Magical even.  Everyone wanted to talk about the show. Most said the Dragons got it wrong while others said I should have taken the deal.  But it was more than just happy customers eating wonderful food.  For me it was redemption.

Two years ago a lot of people came to the deli with high expectations and left disappointed.  Sometimes it was because we ran out of smoked meat but more often it was service-related issues.  I knew Dragon’s Den would offer us a 2nd chance with a lot of people as well as bring in new customers.  It was my best shot at a restaurant “do over” and we nailed it.

When I say “we” I mean the whole team: from the guys who do all the prep to the dishwashers, cooks, slicers, expediters, servers, cashiers, bartenders, manager and me too.  Its taken longer than I ever expected to build it but we finally have a magnificent team who pulled together this weekend and I couldn’t be more proud or grateful.

Thanks to the deli team for making the most of our 2nd Chance.  Thanks to our customers for offering us that opportunity.  And thanks to whoever thought of Daylight Savings for that extra hour of sleep last night. I love you all.