End-of-the-Season Rituals

Seems every year when I see that return date for going north on my calendar, I start writing post-its to myself to visit some of the places in southern Florida that I will especially miss during the summer months. I’ve always been this way. In my youth, before camp ended in August at Seneca Lake, I would walk those trails I found the quietest and swim out to the farthest buoy. They were some of the unique pleasures I would not be enjoying back in my hometown, with its cold fall, winter, and spring. Yesterday, my first ritual end-of-season visit was to a special Florida lunch place: Flakowitz in Boynton Beach. I don’t know much about its origins, but what I do know is that they serve the best cabbage soup on Fridays, and their pastrami sandwich is superb. My lunch there is always rounded out with half of a cheese Danish.

I strive to find a kosher-style deli wherever I live, and why I do is beyond me. Perhaps it is the deli gene I inherited from my father who, on special occasions—few as they may have been—took me to Cohen’s Deli on Joseph Avenue in Rochester for the Cohen’s Special: a corned beef sandwich on thin rye, a pickle and potato chips served up in a brown paper carton. It was a memorable sandwich and a memorable time with my father. In college, my buddy Jerry and I were regulars at the Montclair Diner, while later on, there was PJ Bernstein’s on 70th Street in Manhattan, around the corner from the apartment I shared with my young family. Then there was Ben’s at Exit 39 on the Long Island Expressway, where we always stopped on our way home to the Hamptons from the City.

I found Flakowitz after scouting out delis throughout the Treasure Coast. It is truly the best: unfancy, a friendly place for wheelchairs and walkers –a must—and utensils come wrapped in a paper sheaf. The staff are as humorless as a subway token clerk in the City, but efficient. The menu rules are very clear: no second cup of coffee after 11 AM. The coffee cake is one serving per table, and sorry, only two meats on a half sandwich. During the season, the lines stretch out the door into the parking lot. The talk among the strangers in line is good enough for a Broadway show—a lot of laughs and discussion about what to order. Today, lunch was a great send-off to the end of the season. My only downer was that the boys I usually dine with—Edmund and Paul—are already up north, so I brought a book to keep me company. I especially enjoyed the half cheese Danish with my coffee. I brought an antacid just in case.