Chaim’s New York Jewish Deli

“Shalom!” The man behind the counter wearing a kipah continued, “are you new here? I’ve never seen any of you here before.”

“How did you know we were Jewish?” asked Julia not answering the question.

“Oh, that’s easy,” he replied laughing slightly, “only Jews come in here.”

“What about……” began Timmy turning slightly towards the door?

“Falasha!” he replied which caused Timmy to look at the man more intently. “The crow?” He asked pointing to the door, “the one you just passed?” Timmy nodded his head, “yes, Falasha. There’s a big colony of them in Sneads Ferry. They come over usually on Sundays to fill up for the week, but because its Rosh Hashanah tomorrow evening, they’re coming by today.”

Both Timmy and Julia were lost for words. As for Max, the conversation made no sense to him at all.

“What’s a Falasha?” he asked sounding slightly embarrassed.

The man looked at them. “What kind of Jew is he?”

“He’s not,” replied Timmy, sounding defensive, “Max is Catholic. He’s my best friend.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” replied the man sounding genuinely apologetic. “It’s good to have friends outside the Jewish community. It reminds us that we live in a secular world. Anyway,” he rubbed his wings together, “my name is Chaim and this is my deli. Welcome again, shalom! Oh, by the way,” he had forgotten to answer Max’s question, “Falashas are Ethiopian Jews. They actually trace their heritage back to Queen Sheba who was married to King David.” Max appreciated his explanation and Chaim continued. “What can I get for you today?”

“Well,” said Julia “I’m trying to copy a recipe from a magazine that called for gefilte fish in pastry.”

“The Jewish Cooking Monthly?” he asked straightening his kipah which was beginning to slide down the back of his head.

“Yes exactly!”

“Oh good, Rivka!” he shouted towards the back of the room, “Rivka I have another one of your readers here. Rivka,” he offered as he turned back to the three of them, “is my wife. She’s the editor of the magazine. She likes it when I tell her that a reader of her magazine is in the store.” As soon as he finished his sentence the curtains covering a doorway at the back of the store were pushed aside and out came a middle aged Sandpiper with her spectacles down to the bottom of her beak and a wide smile across the rest of her face.

“Do you read my magazine?” she asked Julia, ignoring the other two.

“Someone gave it to me at school,” she said, “and asked if I were a true Jew because I had never tried gefilte fish before.”

She laughed and Chaim shook his head. “My wife’s sense of humour,” he replied walking towards his wife and putting his wing around her shoulder. “She doesn’t mean anything by it. I hope you weren’t offended.”

“Oh no,” replied Timmy and Julia together, “we are always looking for ways to expand our knowledge and thought it must be important.”

“Ha, ha, what I meant is that if you’re not Jewish,” and here she stopped and looked at Max, “are you Jewish?” she asked.

“No, I’m not,” he replied.

“Oh good!” she continued, “because you don’t look Jewish,” and then continued unabashedly, “anyway, if you’re not Jewish you have no chance of liking gefilte fish. It’s one of these things that even if you don’t like it, you have to say you do.” The children were confused but didn’t want to say anything.

“Well,” began Julia again, “the reason we are here is that in your magazine you talked about wrapping it in pastry and that sounded good, so we want to try it that way.”

“Yes, it’s the best way,” Rivka replied, “even people who like gefilte fish, when they try it like this they like it even more.” Rivka paused for a moment, “Chaim, why don’t we get one out of the freezer and give it to the children. Next time, you can make your own.”

“Good idea!” he exclaimed scurrying over to a large chest freezer which he opened with ease and pulled out a package and placed it on the counter. “That will be five dollars,” he said and immediately his wife cut him off.

“What kind of Jew are you, charging children. No, no, this is on us. Chaim, I’m disappointed in you.” Chaim looked disappointed in himself as well and apologised profusely. The children were embarrassed by the whole situation.

Timmy finally decided to co-opt the conversation, “Mr Plotnick, I didn’t think there were any real Jews in Surf City. My mom thinks that Reform Jews aren’t real Jews.”

Chaim Plotnick laughed, while Julia cringed not realising her brother was going to ask that question, while Max salivated at seeing some lollypops in a jar. “Well, there are Reform Jews and there are Reform Jews. Some Reform Jews are more conservative than others like the Reconstructionists. They aren’t really Jews….”

“And then,” interrupted Rivka, “there are Jews for Jesus. They are the worst.”

“We here,” continued Chaim after nodding at his wife, “are what we call Reform, but really we are more Conservative.”

“But isn’t your Rabbi from California?”

“Ha, ha,” he laughed,” oh yes, he is. Krupnick yes, he’s from California and when we needed a new Rabbi because our old Rabbi emigrated to Israel he applied for the job. We interrogated him because you never know about California, but we like him.”

“But doesn’t he play the guitar?”

“Yes, he does, but not in schul. We told him no and we also told him that if he became our Rabbi, he would have to leave his politics and his guitar behind. He could not bring them with him.”

“Our mom thinks that all the Jews in Surf City are like from California.”

Chaim laughed again. “Who’s your mother?” asked Rivka.

“Sybil Blau,” replied Julia and then immediately regretted saying that.

“Don’t know her,” replied Rivka and Julia breathed a sigh of relief.

“Blau, Blau,” said Chaim, “that name rings a bell. Is your father George Blau the Rabbi in North Topsail?”

“Yes, he is,” replied Timmy proudly. “And he’s a good Rabbi.”

“Oh no, not good,” replied Chaim as Timmy and Julia’s hearts sank, “no not good, very good. We tried to get him to come here. Rivka, you remember him, the Rabbi who sings like a lark. Oh of course we wanted him here, but he refused because he didn’t want to come all this way. We were going to pay his moving expenses, but he wouldn’t do it. If he ever changes his mind, please let us know. Anyway,” Chaim rubbed his wings, “do you have any more shopping to do?” And, they did. About half an hour later, the three of them all with lollypops hanging out of their beaks walked out of the door into the bright sunshine. When Chaim had asked them how they were going to carry all their shopping a long way as he put it, Julia had replied Uber to which Chaim shook his head. “They’re not reliable here,” he told them, “It’s best you get a taxi. There’s a stand right out of the door and then turn left. And by the way, the taxi company is run by the Falashas. Tell them you’re a friend of mine.”

“I know Melanie,” replied Timmy though he wasn’t quite sure why.

“Melanie Krupnick?” asked Chaim. “No, that’s not good. The Falashas don’t like the new Rabbi. Better tell them you’re our friend. By the way, the next time you come I’ll introduce to my daughter…..” However, before he was able to finish his sentence, a beautiful young Sandpiper made her appearance. Max gulped and nearly swallowed the lollypop, while Timmy dropped his and then scrambled to pick it up quickly invoking the 5 second rule, while Julia smiled widely.