How the world’s greatest lox slicer celebrates his 93rd birthday
Zabar’s is home (at least once per week) to the Forward’s lox columnist. Photo by Getty Images
About three years ago, I invited all my co-workers at the lox counter to celebrate my 90th birthday dinner at The Cottage, a local Chinese restaurant, walking distance from Zabar’s. What a nice tradition it would be if I did this every year from then on, I thought.
A special table was set up for the seven of us at the restaurant; Deven, Mikey, Thomas, Tito, Ray, Ian and me (six Latinos and one Jew). James, who would have been the seventh Latino, couldn’t make it. It was a lovely evening — good food, fun talk and plenty of beer.
One year later, COVID-19 reigned. The general manager at Zabar’s, feeling that my age put me at unnecessary risk working at the store, placed me on a temporary layoff from my Thursday and Friday stint as a lox slicer. I hadn’t been to the store or had contact with any of my co-workers for quite a while by the time my 91st birthday rolled around, and that, coupled with the continuing pandemic situation, was probably why I didn’t invite the guys out to celebrate my birthday.
In March 2021 I returned to work. Perhaps because business was slow or because COVID-19 was still lingering in New York City, I was offered only one day a week, Thursdays, but even so I was glad to return. Strangely enough, Thursdays seemed to arrive rather quickly. When I showed up for work, it felt like I was there yesterday rather than a week ago.
When January 2022 arrived, many people continued wearing masks and Zabar’s still required it of all employees. By the end of the year, Zabar’s lifted the mask requirement and things returned to some degree of normality. Many customers still wore masks and do to this day. But it was like old times seeing the faces of my co-workers once again.
So, I decided to revive the tradition that failed, and I invited all the guys to dinner for my 93rd birthday, at The New Cottage, a Chinese Szechuan restaurant on 78th Street and Broadway, a clam’s throw from Zabar’s.
Although I’ve always wanted to invite the guys to dinner at my home in Pelham, so I could cook a Chinese dinner for them, I’d been unable to find a time when they would all be able to make the trip comfortably. This was the next best thing.
I also reached out to Jerry Zse and Linda Greenberg, two people I enjoyed working with at the lox counter, to see if they wanted to join us.
Jerry was held in very high esteem as a lox slicer, both by his co-workers and customers. He was considered by many to be the best lox slicer at Zabar’s during his tenure. They came from everywhere to have Jerry slice their lox. Jerry couldn’t make the party, but Linda was excited to hear from me and said she would come.
Linda and I started working at Zabar’s at the same time, and the fact that she was the only woman behind the lox counter made her special.
Linda and I hit it off from the get-go. We were both Seinfeld fans and the two of us would occasionally go to her apartment after work to watch the show. Sometimes, we went to Carmine’s restaurant on Broadway, sat at the bar, ate calamari and drank bloody marys.
We decided to meet at the restaurant at 5:30 p.m. on the day of the dinner, a while before the rest of the guys, so we could catch up.
In she walked, curly hair, plunging low-cut V-neck dress. We hugged, looked at each other, and for a brief moment took each other in. We sat down at a table, ordered a bottle of white wine and talked, acknowledging how wonderful it was to see each other again.
Remembering that I wanted to order the dinner, I excused myself, approached the restaurant manager and ordered items I might have made myself had I been hosting: crispy chicken wings, cold noodles in sesame sauce, beef with orange flavor, and so on.
The guys strolled in — seven of us sat at a table for nine. First, there was soup, then appetizers and then the mains, all served in a proper time span. Plenty of wine and beer. We sat, enjoyed the food and each other for almost three hours.
Linda stole the show. She reminisced about her time at Zabar’s, and told stories about co-workers and customers. After she’d left Zabar’s, she said, she entered the world of real estate and now owned properties in Manhattan, Montauk and on the Jersey Shore, where she owns and lives in a house she calls “The River House.” She invited a small group of us to a party she’s throwing there in July.
The guys couldn’t seem to get enough of her. “Where did you get the money to acquire all those properties?” they asked. “How did you learn about real estate?” “Would you like to slice lox again”? “Where do you live”?
She answered all the questions in great detail, ending many of her answers with the recurring refrain, “What the F–k!!”
A Zabar’s customer, dining at an adjacent table, recognized Linda, approached our table, and asked why she wasn’t at the lox counter anymore.
An hour into the dinner, I concluded that this was no longer my birthday party; it was a “Welcome Back Linda” party. It was almost like I wasn’t there. But that was OK with me; that way I could concentrate on enjoying the Szechuan and Cantonese cuisine.
Eventually, the guys ran out of questions for Linda, but Linda and I kept talking — even after the guys had said goodbye and left. We ordered another two glasses of wine, and talked about when we would see each other again.
There’s something about the Zabar’s lox counter — friendships made there were built to last.
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