By Jules Watson
So yesterday, I cavalierly strolled over to Zabar’s, the happiest place on Earth, in the pouring rain, to grab some of their seductive and utterly sensational smoked salmon for Yom Kippur weekend.
It was as packed as the old 1/9 line headed up to the Bronx in the eighties.
I pulled my ticket from the dispenser and curiously the iconic red neon counter said 82 but my number was 45.
I say to the guy next to me, ”That can’t be right.”
He replied “Yeah it can”
I said, “I don’t see 40 people on the line.”
He said, “Oh, they’re in here, they’re just all wandering around waiting.”
I said “Well, I’m not sure I’m gonna see any smoked salmon for this evening”
And he said, “You think this is bad, tomorrow’s gonna be worse.”
I exited the mecca, disappointed and hungry.
With renewed determination the next day I headed back in, again in the rain.
My number was 59, and it was 9:00 a.m.
An hour and forty five minutes later with my soggy ticket in hand, ((I admit I went for a walk to kill time) my glorious number was called, and … VICTORY!
I heard a man call out “Two pounds, THIN”
This reminds me of a woman standing next to me on the Rosh Hashanah line last week who said impatiently, “Let me get a pound of nova and make sure it is VERY THINLY SLICED”.
The entire line
froze in fear.
As the temperature dropped.
A word of warning.
Don’t ask the slicing geniuses at Zabar’s to thinly slice your smoked fish.
They are the actual Gods of fish slicing. They are artists.
With fabulous personalities to match.
Don’t insult these golden surgeons of salmon and sable.
When you get home and open your glistening package the buttery exquisite fish will be so thin it will be translucent, and you will thank the Lord.
Good idea to say please and thank you while you’re at it.
And don’t cut or try to cheat your number on the ticket line at the fish counter either, especially during the holidays.
Bad bagels-and-lox karma!
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Thank you for the advice, Jules. I really enjoyed this. You are an incredible story teller!
I really enjoyed this. Sadly, I no longer purchase much at Zabars. other than coffee. Almost everything is now put in single-use plastic clamshells. Only 5% of all plastic placed in recycling bins is actually recycled. Zabars should go back to their beloved legacy that used paper and cardboard packaging.
I wish everyone supported your anti plastic clamshell movement. Shorter lines for me !
And the prices! Everything seems about 20% more expensive since the pandemic.
Not all mavens cut thinly as I have experienced over the last 15 years and therefore I always have to request extra thin to avoid the few times it has come thick !
Growing up my weekend job was to go to the local “appetizing” store and buy
“a quarter pound of nova, sliced thin”. If my mother could not read the New York Times through each slice I was a total failure. When each slice was placed on a half a bagel with cream cheese that was enough to feed a family of four.
No longer living nearby, I got really homesick reading your post!! I would have spent all my waiting time upstairs!!!! Miss Zabar’s and ALL you people!!
I’ve given up on Zabar’s pre-made bagels and lox. $12.95 now and just not very good at all. But the fresh cut fish can’t be beat.
Thank you for this wonderful article, Jules! And a heartfelt thanks to you, Zabar’s, for who you’ve always been — and continue to be — in our neighborhood.
Several decades ago, there was a spectacular elderly man named Sam Cohen who worked at the fish counter. He was so well-known and beloved, he got an editorial obituary in the New York Times. Once he appeared in Metropolitan Diary; a customer reported that she asked Sam how much salmon she would need to feed 5 people. Sam said “One pound.”
The woman replied “Okay, I’ll take two.” I’ve never forgotten it, and decided 2 is the Jewish 1. Sam understood.
I will always remember standing in line one afternoon to get my pound of luscious buttery thinly-sliced Nova and finding Mandy Patinkin standing next to me requesting the same and more. The people in the line continued to simply wait and order their fish when their number was called. Some of us, of course, did listen to Mr. Patinkin as he ordered.
“Surgeons of Sturgeons”
This is not a Zabar’s story but I think you might get a kick out of it. I grew up in Huntington, Long Island in the 50’s – 60’s. There were no appetizing stores near us back then. My father was a working man and my mother kept a tight rein on the food budget but ever weekend we did have fresh bagels and lox. My mother would go to the “German Deli,” a classic, Long Island establishment which made their own salads daily and sold all sorts of cold cuts as well as a pretty decent lox. One day my mother went to get the weekend’s lox and, money must have been tight that week, asked for ⅛ pound. The counter guy looked her, smiled and said, “What, are you having a party?”
You don’t tug on superman’s cape. You don’t spit into the wind. You don’t pull or mess with the old Lone Ranger And you don’t mess around with the fish mongers at Zabars.
Apologies to Jim Croce