Will the Last Jew in Miami Please Take the Deli?

Did the closing of the Rascal House signal the end of Jewish food in Miami? We think not

By Danny Brody

Demographic changes aside, the classics never go out of style. Photo by Richard M. Brooks

The closing of the Rascal House seemed to generate an awful lot of boo-hooing for the golden years and the gone demographics of Miami Beach and its environs. The Jews, conventional wisdom seemed to say, have gone. They’ve been replaced by South Americans and Europeans, with pastas and empanadas supplanting the matzo ball and the cheese Danish, perhaps forever.

Coming so soon before the Passover holiday, the deli’s demise made me examine the so-called vanishing cuisine of the Jews. In fact, it seems the whole idea of the vanishing Miami Jewish culture, especially when it comes to food, is nothing more than a myth. A quick stroll down 41st Street, also known as the Arthur Godfrey Causeway, puts the lie to the idea that Miami is no longer a city with a strong Jewish presence.

Kastner's Market, at number 700, does a brisk business in cholent, a Sabbath special, that consists of slow-cooked flanken, or short ribs, done up with beans, carrots and yes, even the dreaded garlic and onions, which, despite the legend of tasteless shtetl food, has a pungency found in the spices of North Africa and southern Europe. The homemade gefilte fish, another long-disparaged kosher specialty, is a sweet ground-whitefish, sausage-like arrangement that is almost light, and the exact opposite of the sad and syrupy bottled versions of one's youth. Kichels (airy egg “cookies”) and pickled tomatoes abound. Mandelbrot, which are like biscotti, are freshly made every day, as are all the baked goods, including the notorious black-and-whites, almost satiny in their sugary half-and-half frosting. And, of course, chopped liver and Jewish potato gnocchi are classic sides that Moishe, the classic pleasant-but-harried deli man, will be happy to weigh for you.

But delis, you ask? There are at least two great ones, starting with Arnie & Richie's, which hasn't gone anywhere since 1948. The corned beef and pastrami sandwiches are not the ridiculously oversized and overpriced monstrosities that seem to have overtaken South Beach's fake Jewish delis. At $10.95, they are a handful, for sure, but their rich, juicy meat needs no adornment other than a dab of mustard on fresh rye bread, soothing to the taste buds as well as the soul. Yes, these mouthfuls, along with a small bowl of matzo ball soup, are Jewish soul food in the biblical sense.

Skip the Reuben, a fatal concoction if ever there was one, and dig the Nova Scotia or belly lox platters. For $10.95, they come with bagels, rye or pumpernickel and a bunch of raw onions, cucumbers, tomatoes and, of course, cream cheese (also known as Jewish white gold). The customers here are an interesting mix of mothers and babies; older couples who are, as we say in Spanish, chewing water; and 30- to 40-something locals enjoying a Jewish siesta, which doesn't involve sleep at all but does involve indulging.

Down the street, past A to Z Toys (728) — which has a big picture window showcasing the usual dollhouses along with a “Wooden Shabbat Set,” which contains all the goodies, like two miniature challahs — is Sam's Deli & Grill (740). An alta cocker, a Jewish “term of endearment” for an oldster, sits outside nursing a Snapple while reading from a Hebrew book. Inside, cops, city workers and other locals gorge on meatloaf ($16.95), a gigantic portion served with mashed potatoes and gravy (and some allegedly “grilled” vegetables), and the tongue sandwich ($16.95), also an underground favorite.

The common element in both Sam's and Arnie's & Richie's seems to be the enormous flat-screen tuned to CNN. Even if your grandmother is in town, it seems to say, you ought to pay attention to what's going on in the world.

Here in Miami, in our little world, it seems not much has really changed. The demise of the Old World has been greatly exaggerated.

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