Grebler invited me to a “research screening” of the film adaptation of Mordechai Richler’s “Barney’s Version” earlier this evening. This post began taking shape during the movie.  Duh.

I read the book many years ago and loved it although I couldn’t remember most of the details beyond the fact that Barney Pinovsky had multiple wives, was a bit of a rogue and that he’d messed up his relationships through his rogueish behaviour.  Seeing the movie tonight, I thought he was more ‘charming asshole’ than ‘rogue’ but maybe that’s how Paul Giamatti (brilliantly) played him. An unapologetically charming asshole at that. Maybe that’s why Barney’s a national hero in Italy.  For my purposes, this matters not.

What does matter is that he has the courage to be himself and not care so much what others may think.  Of course, Barnery Pinovsky is a fictional character, Zane Caplansky is not.

A couple days ago, someone blogged about coming to the deli with a group of Twitterers (Tweeps) and referred to me in her blog as Zane “Caplansky” Caplan.  I sent a nice note thanking her for her kind words and let her know that I’d legally changed my name to Caplansky.  Thus her reference was factually incorrect.  However, she chose not to edit her blog and that bugs me a little.  I’m not “Caplansky”.  I’m Caplansky.  What’s the difference?  Why do I care?

Two years ago, just before my 40th birthday and just before opening my sandwich shop in the Monarch Tavern I changed my name. On the most basic level, I felt that “Caplansky’s” sounded like a better deli name than “Caplan’s” and if it was to be authentic I should have the same name as my business.  But there were deeper reasons.  Unlike Barney, I had difficulty feeling good about expressing my inner charming asshole.  Zane Caplan wanted everyone to like him.  Zane Caplansky calls influential food writers “fuckers” if he feels they’re being unfair.

I imagine my great-grandfather, Benjamin Caplanski, probably changed his name in order to fit in better with Canadian society.  Changing my name back and spelling it my own way, was a way for me to express that I fit in just fine the way I am.  I could finally be myself and feel good about that regardless of whether I fail or succeed because those terms “failure” and “success” can only be subjective.

Believe me, operating a sandwich shop out of a dive bar on Clinton Avenue isn’t anyone’s idea of being a success except mine.  That’s because it was me being me.  There was neither social prestige nor great wealth.  Just pure authenticity.  In fact, when I was a little boy and was asked what I want to be when I grew up, I used to say I wanted to own a restaurant.  The fact that I’ve been able to outgrow that space and open something wonderful on College Street is similarly the realisation of a long held dream.  This may not be what anyone wanted for me but its more than I could have ever hoped for for myself.

Zane Caplan never felt good about himself.  He was always trying to please others and win approval.  His relationships were co-dependent, his successes short lived and his failures excruciating. Zane Caplan needed to seem perfect and almost destroyed himself in the process.  Zane Caplansky isn’t perfect and doesn’t care who knows.  I fuck up and I blog about it.  I live out loud.  If I fail or succeed on your terms I really couldn’t care less.  What matters is that I’m true to myself and never stop growing into the most charming asshole I can be.

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.

Waking up just now I found the red light flashing on my phone.  The calendar had a reminder blinking entitled “It Begins”.  What begins? Exactly two years ago today I started serving smoked meat sandwiches in the Monarch Tavern.  It seems like much more than two years worth of memories, aches, pains, laughs, loves, staff, customers, suppliers and media – oh, the media.

“It” all started so humbly.  That first day it was just me and Jessica Roher and Megan Sullivan.  That’s not exactly true.  There was also Charlotte Holmes without whose inestimable support and love none of this would have happened.  Megan and I were in the kitchen.  We hand cut the fries and fried them twice.  We used a little mandolin to make coleslaw with a recipe that hasn’t changed.  I can’t even remember if we served soup that first day but I think we did.

What I do remember was that I arrived at about 5 am, turned on the Bradley 4 brisket smoker and saw the light flicker briefly before it failed.  Welcome to show business, Caplansky.  Aaaaakkk!  I called Charlotte and told her the bad news.  Woman of action that she is, Charlotte rented a car and drove to the Bass Pro Outlet way up north and bought me a new 6 rack digital smoker.  She also talked them into taking my failed machine back in exchange despite the fact that I didn’t even buy it there.  I still can’t explain how she accomplished this except, clearly, her pretty eyes and rosy cheeks could charm even the most hardened sporting goods manager into doing what she wanted. God love her.

Since then we’ve had our ups and downs – kind of like life.  ”L’chaim” means “to life” and its what we Jews say when we raise our glasses.  I’ve come to learn a few things about life and I’ll share some of those here and now:

Life is painful.  There are disappointments and injuries.  There are betrayals and heartbreaks. Nothing ever turns out as one expects – sometimes better, sometimes worse.  But that’s part of the mystery of our existence: most of it is out of our control.  How we respond to these unexpected circumstances defines us.  Truth be told, I’m only proud of how I’ve responded to adversity 80 to 90 % of the time. But this is my challenge: to learn to accept myself as I am, to grow into the kind of man I want to be and deal with life’s painful moments, disappointments and betrayals as well as I deal with life’s joys. This brings me to my second observation.

Life is joy. The day before yesterday a young woman came into the deli at about 3pm for soup and a sandwich.  She seemed to be enjoying her sandwich more than your average guest and I couldn’t help but comment how happy it made me to watch her enjoy my food.  ”That I’m here is a real compliment to you,” she said.  ”I had a baby three weeks ago and this is the first moment I’ve had to myself.  All I wanted was to come here and eat this.”  Joy? This is how joy feels to me and to her.  How about Richard Meloff, who insisted on holding his new son for the first time in one hand and one of my sandwiches in the other just as his father did with him.  I met Richard’s mom and dad who confirmed the story.  This is joy.  We hosted David Sax’s book launch where we shared the joy of the evening with the best deli people and fressers (eaters) in the city.  In August we will host Michael and Beth’s wedding and in October Nancy Nightingale’s son’s Bar Mitzvah. This is joy.

Life is delicious.  Two years ago today I never imagined being welcomed into the warm embrace of Toronto’s food community as much as I have been.  In that time my friendship with guys like Jesse Vallins, Ron Grebler and more recently Greg McDonald has taken me to some of this city’s best eating places.  Sometimes we get treated special but most of the time we just eat really really well.  My relationship with the fairer sex has been filled with delicious moments too.  Lara rejected the “foodie” label in favour of “eater” and she wears it well.  Lara was a huge influence on me in the first months of my deli life.  Lara, Charlotte, Rachel, Rebecca and I shared many memorable meals.  I owe a debt to each of them for listening to me vent about the pains and joys of my life in the deli. Each taught me about life and my place in it.  Each helped me grow a little towards becoming a better man.

Life is difficult.  I’m not good at relationships.  I’m not good at handling the feeling of being taken advantage of.  I’m gullible. I have difficulty trusting people.  I’m really bad at handling anger.  My apartment is a mess.  I’m a cry baby.  My eating habits? The worst.  ’Nuff said.

Life is hopeful.  I know I can get better at all the things I suck at.

Life is grateful.  If you’re reading this I thank you.  If you’ve eaten in my restaurant I thank you.  If you invested your money I thank you.  If you’ve written about me, talked to your friends about me, posted comments on my blog, hired me to do catering for you I thank you thank you thank you.  If you complained, I thank you too because you helped me get better.  If you posted anonymously online how bad the food or service was without ever saying anything to anyone in the restaurant you can go fuck yourself.

Life is beautiful.  Yes, I’m a bit of a plagiarist and a ham and an asshole at times but more often than not I really feel the beauty of life.  I love what I do, the people I do it with and the people we do it for.  For all its ups and downs.  For all its pains and sorrows and stress.  For all its deliciousness, joy and gratitude I thank God for the opportunity to experience the richness of our existence.  It ain’t easy but it sure as hell beats the alternative.

P.S. Happy Birthday Naomichi Kobayashi.  You are the best meat slicer and staff member I have ever known.  My gratitude to you knows no bounds. The fact that we share this special day means it was ‘beshert’.  Find that in your little electronic dictionary, my friend.

What a wonderful day.  I think we’ve finally turned the corner.  Of course, only time will tell if this is true but it sure feels that way.  The day started with an email I received confirming a certain someone will be joining our team.  WooHoo!!! Why am I so excited?  You’ll have to wait a few weeks to find out because I want to make sure this works before formally announcing anything.  But when I do, you’ll totally get it.

We ran a bbq cheesesteak special at lunch and a delicious salmon special at dinner.  Better yet, we finally got away from the plain dinner veg we’ve been serving (sautéed peppers and zucchini) and started serving the “seasonal veg” that we list on the menu.  Fresh Ontario asparagus.  Green beans in butter and lemon.  The plates just looked great and our guests were loving it.  As were the staff.  It just feels better to work with people who care about what they’re doing and we finally have those people in the kitchen.

This turnaround happened in less than a week.  In fact, last Friday we lost three kitchen staff before 10am.  Jason didn’t show up to work which caused Angry John to quit and Dennis decided he’d had enough as well.  We didn’t panic.  There was no gnashing of teeth.  We just got down to work.  I strapped on an apron, put on a hat and got my tuchus in the kitchen.

I’m happy in the kitchen. Friday may have started badly but guests wouldn’t have known it.  Saturday, our busiest day was a breeze.  Sunday the floor staff commented they haven’t heard laughter from the kitchen in months and it was reflected in the food.  It was joyous. Special thanks go out to Frank, New Jason and Dan who all stepped up and kicked ass. Did I mix that metaphor?

The smoked meat is finally consistently wonderful.  We’ve had a problem with saltiness over the last few weeks as we’ve been adjusting our curing technique to solve the under-curing problem but thats a thing of the past.  I could hardly be happier.  Well, I could have a life outside of the deli.  That would be nice and its not too far off.  Actually, my bike should be ready tomorrow and I can’t wait to kick it into gear and ride off into the sunset.  It is a wonderful stress reliever – work issues melt away as I crank the accelerator and roar off.  Its all painted and I simply can’t wait to ride.

Underneath this fat, Jewish, deli-man exterior beats the heart of a badass biker dude.  I even have a full black leather suit I bought for my trip down to pre-Katrina New Orleans.  In fact, I was telling Greg about that trip last night when we made a road-trip to Camp 31 in Paris Ontario for some bbq.  It was wonderful to get out of the city and breathe country air.

Which brings me to tonight.  Mike Hopkins, who plays every other Thursday at Caplansky’s as the Spanish Waiter along with John the clarinet dude sounded so good people were dancing on the patio.  As I stood and watched, young Molly MacGregor opened her arms and invited me to dance.  (relax: her parents were right there) I accepted and we stepped into what I thought was a foxtrot. You may not know that I took dance lessons for over a year and was never quite able to figure out which dance went with which music.  Never figured out the steps much either much to the frustration of Lola my instructor.  And so it remains.  ”Um, that’s a Tango,” Molly said.  At least I’m consistent, eh? “Let me lead,” she said and wise guy that I am I let her.  So there I was, being led around my patio by a beautiful young lady way more than half my age on a cool summer evening listening to delightful music on a tummy full of Andrew’s salmon with braised cabbage.

Life is good.

I had the best time tonight at the wedding of David Sax and Lauren Mallach.  This is not an exaggeration.  It was easily the best wedding I’ve ever attended.  It was the loveliest, warmest, most joyous celebration of life, love and family that I’ve been honoured to be invited to.  As you may know, David Sax penned “Save the Deli” (and recently won the James Beard Award for it). Our lives have been intertwined for over two years because of our mutual interest in keeping alive an important tradition.  In that time, he has become my friend and a major source of inspiration and support.

After meeting and spending a few moments with Lauren I took David aside.  ”What’s wrong with you,” I asked.  ”Get a ring on that finger.”  Even though my own marriage didn’t work out, that doesn’t mean I’ve lost faith in the institution.  Having come to know them both I’m not sure which is more fortunate.  Having seen them together more than a few times, it is my firm conviction that they deserve each other and every happiness life has to offer.  And they sure know how to throw a party.  It feels like forever since I went to a party and had such a great time.

Last night the shoe was on the other foot.  The Sax/Mallachs chose Caplansky’s to host their Out-of-Towner party.  I usually don’t have fun at parties I’m hosting but I enjoyed that one for two reasons:

1. Abby Ainsworth did a fantastic job organising and executing the event allowing me to just play host.  Abby’s been managing our Catering and Special Events for the last few months and this was her biggest challenge yet.  She chose the right team, gave great instructions and managed the event perfectly.  I couldn’t be prouder of her and our entire team for what they did last night. Special shout out to Robb Zaina who wowed everyone with his deserts.

2. The guests had a great time.

I’m trying to feel good about the job I do without the need for approval but these people are special.  Their approval means more to me than anyone else’s.  Seriously.  The Sax family has played a bigger role in helping build my business than I can or wish to express.  They’ve been there for me since Day One at the Monarch (along with cousin Eric Katz) and every step of the way since.  We hosted David’s book launch and catered their Chanukah party.

Julia and Michael were both effusive in their praise and David and Lauren were too.  Daniel, David’s younger brother, seemed to have a great time too although the sun seems to shine whenever he’s around.  You know the type.  Actually, his speech tonight was the best “Best Man’s Speech” I’ve ever heard (although Howie Grossfield comes a close second for his work at Rob Braudy’s wedding many years ago).

Anyway, tomorrow is another day on the farm and if I don’t get some sleep I won’t be any good to anyone.  However, when I greet the Sandman in a few moments, I’ll be smiling.

Its a rude awakening when your best server calls in sick and the other guy calls in abusive.  The “other guy” leaves a message saying “you better come take care of your restaurant”.  I arrived a few moments later expecting to find a mess but everything was just fine – except him.  This guy is in a state and its not Kansas.  He’s almost literally spitting venom.

“Why don’t you go home,” I tell him. It was a directive intended to save his job, not a suggestion.

“I wanna see if you have the balls to talk to me right now,” other guy says. Ho!

“Let’s go,” I said.

We head out the back door and other guy lays into me in the most nonsensical way.  ”I’ve never had any problem with you,” he says.  ”But other people…”

“Which other people? What are you talking about specifically?” I ask.  He can’t offer specifics.  In fact, I know he’s stood up for me among the staff in the past telling people that on a relative basis, I’m not that bad.  Awwwww, shucks.  But now he’s angry but can’t tell me why.  I’m told I suck as a restaurant owner, a total screw-up but he can’t provide specific examples (I could help him here but why make this easy?).  I’m told the place runs better without me with all evidence to the contrary.  I can’t figure this out until he tells me he’s got other issues and stresses going on in his life.  Ok, its personal.  We all have times like these.  He tells me he loves this restaurant and that I’ve created an essential service for the city.  After a few moments of discussion he shakes my hand, pats my back and we head back in.   I offered to give him the day off.  ”It’s okay,” he says “I’ll cover the patio.”

A few minutes later the slicer gets an emergency call that a relative has taken ill.  He leaves and I jump on the slicing station.  Not more than 20 minutes later, the other guy comes upto me at the slicing station.  ”You want specifics, this is what I’m talking about,” he says.  ”We don’t have any salad,” he’s really angry about the salad situation.  I don’t understand but I’m knee deep in smoked meat and need to focus on my work.  A few minutes later he comes back to the slicing station.  ”I’m going to screw you and walk out,” he tells me.  True to his word, the other guy leaves screwing me and a bunch of my unfortunate customers on the patio.

Oh, and this last bit took place in front of my brother and Mark Carney , Governor of the Bank of Canada.

Jazz hands.

I was in bed last night when something compelled me to get up and write that “Doug” post.  Clearly I wasn’t resting comfortably but after unburdening myself of those feelings I slept very well.  I woke early and headed into what would be an awesome fantastic day.  A day that helped me answer my own nagging doubts about why I do this.

Around 11 am the inimitable Andrew Tile brought 33 students and staff for their Second Annual Caplansky’s Graduation party.  Andrew is a stand up guy, someone whose smile lights up a room and puts people at ease.  His students have special needs and its a very big deal for many of them to eat in a restaurant.  Its truly an honour to be the restaurant of their choice.  Andrew organised everything such that it went off without a hitch.

The lunch rush seemed to sustain itself for a good couple of hours. Sarah Z rocked the floor and Jason the new guy in the kitchen was awesome (along with Robb Zaina who is always awesome).  Old friend Rob Archambault stopped by on his birthday.  Jared Greenspan hung out on the patio with Matt and Monarch regular Gabe the stock analyst stopped by for a fresser.  Sister-in-law Claire Helen Wilkinson Angus Caplan (I’m not making that up) also soaked up some rays with Heather Moyes the (incredibly hot) Olympic Champion Bobsledder and subject of Claire’s film doc.

Could it get any better?  Well it did.  Ron Grebler and Gregory MacDonald met me at the deli at 5pm and the three of us made a pilgrimage to Buster Rhino’s BBQ joint in Whitby.  We got there around 6.30 and were happy to find Joel Solish, Andrew Revesz and Zofie (last name unknown) waiting.  Luckily Darryl and Scott stayed late just to feed us and Darryl’s wife Beth and their kids were the perfect hosts.  I didn’t want to impose and expected to eat and leave but we sat around and chatted for hours.  It was bliss.  Great friends old and new shared an incredible meal and an incredible experience.

If you’re looking for the best bbq I’ve had since Herb’s Real Pit in Cherokee N. Carolina, go to Buster Rhino’s in Whitby.  The ribs, the brisket and pulled pork were all first rate – I ate my fill and brought home loads for the freezer.  As I sat there schmoozing with these lovely people it occurred to me that THIS is why I do this.  If I hadn’t been in the restaurant business, I wouldn’t have met Joel who introduced me to Darryl.  I wouldn’t know Ron (who is Andrew Tile’s cousin) or Greg (a chef who plays with Sloan) or Andrew (who is from Montreal but doesn’t use that against me) or Zofie (who gently kissed her bf Andrew even though his mouth was on fire from habanero oil) either.  Claire Helen Wilkinson Angus Caplan I would have known but may not be in touch with her.  That’s complicated.

I also want to say “thanks” to everyone who reached out to me as a result of what I posted last night.  My cousin Adam even offered to change my tires.  Can you imagine?  That’s love.  To be honest, it sort of embarrasses me to know people actually read this stuff because I don’t hold back.  Thanks for listening, thanks for caring and thanks for sharing my life.  It wouldn’t be nearly as much fun without you.

Doug is my Accountant and I love him because he does more than crunch numbers.  He’s part therapist, part biker buddy, part sounding board as well as a great number cruncher. Doug has made order from the chaos of my books (Ikea boxes) but more importantly he’s helped me feel okay about the chaos. Doug specialises in restaurant accounting.  He’s opened lots of restaurants and come to the rescue of even more.  Restaurant owners, he assures me, just want to get it done.  But we need to manage and that’s where he comes in.

Restaurant management is about percentages, he says.  Your food cost and labour cost should be within a certain percentage of your overall sales.  Same with occupancy costs.  For me, labour cost has been way out of whack.  I won’t even tell you what it is because its embarrassing.  I’m working hard to try and turn a profit because at the end of the day, if I don’t, all is lost.  And I’ll be honest with you: its been a challenge to be profitable on a month-to-month basis.  So much so that I expressed to Doug today that I’m not sure its worth it.

I’ve been hobbling around on what I believe is a fractured bone in my foot for two weeks now because I can’t find the time to get it looked at.  I’m driving on winter tires because I don’t have time to get them changed.  My motorcycle is waiting to be picked up and ridden but I can’t find the time to get it despite the fact that I’m paying for the insurance already.  I haven’t unpacked half of my stuff in my new apartment and I moved in December.  I miss my friends’ anniversary parties, birthday parties and so on because I work 6 and a half days a week. And there are people who tell me I’m “never there anymore”.

Am I whining?  Yes, this is whining.  I hurt.  I’m frustrated. And I get hate mail from people telling me that I suck and that I mistreat my staff.  Every other month I don’t even pay myself in order to make ends meet.  I feel exhausted and fed up.  Who needs this?  Who wants this? Is this a life?  But I get to be Caplansky, right? I get my name in the papers, I get to be on tv, the talk of the town.  Big fucking deal.

Earlier today I was expressing this to Doug.  He listened patiently and smiled when I told him my  fantasy about getting a job.  Something where I could have my evenings and weekends.  In this fantasy life, I take long leisurely walks, sip wine with friends on patios.  I get paid regularly.  Maybe even have vacations. “This isn’t a job,” he said shaking his silver-maned head, shattering my fantasy.  ”This is your life. You’re like a farmer,” he said.  ”You’re supposed to feel this way, it would be weird if you didn’t.” “You go to sleep thinking about your meat, your staff, your customers and your suppliers,” he said.  I nodded.  ”You wake up thinking about your rent, your payroll and the equipment that needs fixing,” he said.  I do.  ”This is your farm.  This is your calling. This is your life.”  Doug gets me and I love him for it.  Plus he only charges me half of what my therapist does.

My goal in year one is to break even while avoiding a nervous breakdown.  Right now its too close to call on both counts.  See me in September and Doug will tell us how we did.

When I logged in here a few moments ago I found the sweetest comment from “Woody Allen Fan” that just warmed my heart.  The timing is perfect too because I saw a message someone posted earlier today saying that they couldn’t understand why we get such great press because they ate at the deli and there was “nothing good about it” – “food or service”.  Yikes!  Nothing good? Nothing? Really? I have no reasonable expectation of pleasing all my customers (some are unpleasable) and I know that we mess up sometimes but stuff like that still bugs me.  Is it weird that I tracked down the poster’s email addy and wrote her a message asking to hear about her experience?

I don’t know.  One part of me says that the fact that I care about stuff likes this drives me to do better.  On the other hand, I work very hard already and do my best.  What else can I do?  How about a little ego booster care of Vince the Prince from Petrolia.  Below is a message I believe he meant for me to share and I take great pleasure in doing so… (you’ll see why)

“My wife and I recently visited Toronto, with a Monday trip to Caplansky’s as the main event.  After driving 3 hours, taking 2 subway trains and a 15 minute walk with our group consisting of my wife,
pregnant daughter in law, son and 1 year old grandson we arrived at our destination.  We were shocked and disappointed to find the restaurant closed for spring cleaning.  Being a typical male, I said to my wife ”Let’s go home right now”.  My son then noticed that the side door was open, being from a small town “Petrolia” where everyone is typically friendly, I took it upon myself to enter the restaurant to case the joint for future trips to Toronto. And lucky me, it just so happened that one of people in the restaurant was the owner, Zane. After hearing our tale of woe…Zane, a true gentleman who understands a hungry mans heart, made the kind gesture to let us have a sandwich despite the fact the restaurant was closed.  He was also very apologetic that the smoked meat was not warm as the steamers had been turned off.   When we asked him how much, he refused to accept payment and even threw in a couple of cokes.  We proceeded to a nearby park where we enjoyed a truly remarkable smoked meat experience.  A most disappointing beginning resulted in a great story and set forward a great day in the city, a travel experience we will never forget.  We look forward to returning on our next visit to Toronto and enjoying an outstanding dining experience.  Sincerely, Vince “The Prince” from Petrolia”

His message is significant for me in many ways.  First of all, the day he refers to, the “Spring Cleaning” closure was nightmarish.  We struggled through another busy weekend with a new crew in the kitchen.  New people always bring challenges such as inconsistencies, mistakes and simply the time it takes to train them.  Fortunately we’ve got some really good folks manning the oars and they did a great job.  Unfortunately, when I arrived at 9am Monday morning I was informed by Dennis the incredible prep guy (his chopped liver is… transcendental) that both morning cooks failed to show up.  ”And we’re out of at least 6 menu items,” he said.

Faced with the prospect of starting the week so far behind and knowing the place could use a good scrub down I decided to pull the plug.  Better to live to fight another day than to push my peeps too hard and regret it later.  But this isn’t a battle, it’s show business and the show must go on, right?  I really feel that way.  If CEO Howard Schultz thinks Starbucks is in the fashion business, what’s so weird about me thinking I’m in show business?  Besides the overblown comparison weirdness, I mean.  Its a well-known axiom that ‘grocery stores are in the food business and restaurants are in the people business’ and its entertaining people (and their taste buds) that I’m all about.

There I was on Monday, closed to the public, full of anxiety and feeding my people pizza during a lunch break when Vince the Prince and his family came in the side door.  It went just as he describes although he doesn’t paint himself as colourfully as I would have.  Vince is someone who you’d like to see on Corner Gas or at the bar in Cheers.  His small-town folksy charm belies a personality that’s larger than life.  He makes you feel comfortable with yourself just from shaking his hand.  And he talks with this patter, kind of like a Newfoundlander.  See?  Like I did right there – rhyming things.  His visit and subsequent message put me at ease over my decision.

In the end, I know I did the right thing.  Taking that break allowed us to prepare for what would be another busy Friday/Saturday and Sunday was Mother’s Day.  We had a whack of reservations that day and I can’t tell you how proud I was of our team. Under very difficult circumstances we did really well.  Not perfect but we did our best.  I need to be satisfied with that. I’m learning to be satisfied with that.

As I was leaving the deli around 7.30 pm that evening a new customer got in the last word.  ”Your mother must be very proud of you.”  She said it in the most genuine way as if to say ‘If I was your mother I’d be very proud.’  That, my friends, is why I love my customers and show business.

I guess that’s what this is,eh? Opening up my world to whoever wants to take a look.  Why do I do it? Exhibitionism? Masochism? The need for attention? I’m sure there’s a little of all of those things at play here but the reason I think I blog is simply cathartic.  I enjoy sharing my joys and pains as a way to deal with everything I’m going through.

Let’s not kid ourselves: its interesting (or at least an interesting distraction) to dwell on other peoples’ problems.  If that’s true, then where the heck have I been?  In fact, we got a call at the deli today from an “anonymous fan” who wanted to know why I haven’t blogged in so long.  So? What gives?

Its not easy to admit but I’ve been depressed.

I think my funk has been brought on by a sense of letting people down.  I’ve felt an enormous sense of expectation surrounding the delicatessen and I know I’ve made mistakes.  Almost from the beginning I’ve been aware that this endeavor is more than just a restaurant: its a cultural statement, a product of my love of food, place and people.  Not just mine, either but many many others too.

Of course, I’ve benefitted from  both press and chatter about the cultural significance and challenges of the Jewish delicatessen.  For me this is an incredibly personal challenge and I appreciate the support I’ve received more than words can say.  And with the whole world seemingly watching (even the New York Times spilled some ink my way – twice in three weeks) it felt like things weren’t going well. February was slow.  Slower than slow.  Scary slow.  But March was better and April has been fine too.

This was the line I heard: “Yeah but Caplansky’s is different”.  I stopped mid-shuffle.

“‘Scuze me fellas,” I said “can you repeat what you just said.”

“We’re talking about smoked meat,” one said dismissively.

I didn’t know what to say.  I’m not sure I’ve ever overheard someone I don’t know talking about me before.  So I just said it: “I’m Caplansky.”  These guys just erupted in what felt like a verbal orgasm.  They even gave me a few Alice Cooper-ish ‘we’re not worthies’ a la Wayne’s World.  After showing i.d. to prove myself to be myself I continued my bathroom shuffle with tears in my eyes.  It would be so much easier if I didn’t care so much what people think.

Okay.  I know the following is a bad way to end a blog entry but this is my world and it doesn’t always go as I’d like so why should it go nicely for you?  In my own defense I can’t think of a nice way to finesse what you are about to read into a nicely flowing paragraph.  Death is never nice.

I got a call this morning from the sales manager of our main food distributor informing me that Joel Cohen, our beloved rep, suddenly passed away of a heart-attack on Friday.  Joel was a mensch of the highest order.  The entire Caplansky Team send our condolences to his family.  I regret I didn’t take the time to get to know him better as did our baker Robb Zaina.  When I gave Robb the bad news he told me he had lunch with Joel on Thursday.

Okay, Joel, this one’s for you: as of today I’m going to make enjoying this experience a priority.  I miss you already. Rest in peace – alla va sholom.  You’ve earned it.