There’s an abundance of delightful Jewish-deli merchandise out there, and I would venture to say that I own about 10% of what’s available! Wherever I travel, I strive to find a decent (or rather, medium-lousy) cup of coffee, a hearty bowl of matzo ball soup, and a bagel. My go-to spots include Canter’s Deli in the Fairfax district of Los Angeles, Schwartz’s in Paris’s Le Marais, and Beauty’s Luncheonette in the Jewish Quarter of Montreal.
However, my cravings extend beyond just the food—though a plate of crispy latkes seems to have a miraculous ability to remedy everything from a pesky cold to jet lag and even heartbreak. In these complex times, I feel most connected to my heritage when I indulge in familiar dishes like cabbage soup or tsimmes, reminiscent of what my Russian Jewish ancestors might have eaten in their shtetls generations ago.
After finishing my meal at these historic delicatessens, and typically feeling stuffed while packing leftover food I’m not eager to take but do so out of concern for the server’s disapproval, I inevitably find myself examining their merchandise. At this point, I’ve collected enough Jewish-deli baseball caps from various locations to make Larry David proud—and yet the one cap I cherish most is from just about 20 blocks from my childhood home: Zabar’s, of course.
Zabar’s—recently in the news due to the passing of its long-time owner, Saul Zabar, the “smoked fish czar,” who passed away at the age of 97 after over 70 years in charge of the store founded by his parents in 1934—is distinguished among Jewish delis for numerous reasons. Notably, they defy the usual “consistently mediocre coffee” stereotype, offering brews strong enough to get you through even the longest Passover seder. Moreover, the deli’s iconic orange merchandise has garnered a trendy status over the past decade, embraced by a mix of fashionable figures including frum-meets-high-fashion designer Batsheva Hay (who has been known to wear a Zabar’s cap) and even gracing a $500 Coach sweater in 2022.
