By Hannah Edgar | Chicago Tribune
Since originating at the Skirball Cultural Center in Los Angeles last year, “I’ll Have What She’s Having: The Jewish Deli” has bounced around Jewish educational institutions and history museums across the country.
It was only a matter of time before this ode to a uniquely American Jewish cultural institution made its way here, the land of Kaufman’s, JB’s, Manny’s, and dozens more.
Arielle Weininger, the chief curator of collections and exhibitions at the Illinois Holocaust Museum and Education Center, which is hosting the exhibition through April, is local deli royalty herself. Her cousin Bette Dworkin runs nearby Kaufman’s Bagel & Delicatessen, in Skokie, after the family bought it from founder Morrie Kaufman in 1984. Her family made it into the exhibition’s photo wall, pictured at a Passover Seder with Dworkin.
“I had to take a little moment of family pride here,” she says, pointing to the tableau.
“I’ll Have What She’s Having” includes plenty of memorabilia original to Skirball’s original exhibition. But with the exhibition’s arrival in Skokie, Weininger and the museum’s curatorial team found ways to augment it with relevant Chicagoland history — the birth of Vienna Beef at the 1893 World’s Fair and Election Day at Manny’s rightly get shout-outs — and explorations of area delis’ ties to the Holocaust.
Chicago’s oldest extant delis nearly all got their start in the war or postwar period. Chain migrations of Jewish refugees to major urban areas meant there was a growing appetite for the hearty Central and Eastern European, i.e., mostly Ashkenazic, fare that’s remained the (rye) bread and butter of Jewish delis.
Plus all those immigrants needed jobs. Kaufman’s became a hub for Holocaust survivors, on both sides of the counter. So did The Bagel in Lakeview; owner Danny Wolf, who died last year, was born in the Theresienstadt concentration camp. Auschwitz survivors founded both the now-defunct Thorndale Deli in Edgewater and Hungarian Kosher Foods in Skokie, the world’s first all-kosher supermarket.
But when Weininger set out to create a comprehensive list of Chicagoland delis past and present, she quickly realized she’d bitten off more than she could chew. First of all, how should she define “Jewish delis”? And given the spotty paper trail of mom-and-pop businesses, how could her list possibly be authoritative?
Still, she went ahead with the directory, guided by some “guard rails.” Weininger decided a business was eligible if customers could dine in, and if it served more food items than a single product. (Mere bagel stands were a no-no.)
Crowdsourcing proved a bigger help in creating the directory than any press record possibly could. Weininger solicited suggestions and photos from various Chicago-area Facebook groups. The avid discussion in the comments sections primed her for the deeply held opinions and entrenched partisanship she’d encounter when her list went live. So, she added in a comic disclaimer placard to ward off the inevitable “whattabouts”: “We get it. You want to kvetch. Your favorite deli spot isn’t included here … Be a mensch and write it down on an order ticket in the gallery.”
As an added bonus, “I’ll Have What She’s Having” finally gave Weininger a chance to talk about “The Blues Brothers,” whose wicked “Illinois Nazis” weren’t so far-fetched when the movie came out in 1980. The American Nazi Party had threatened to march in Skokie just a few years before, inspiring a landmark First Amendment case and, eventually, the founding of the Holocaust Museum. But a beloved Chicago deli sneakily appears in the movie, too: Nate’s Delicatessen on Maxwell Street, dressed up as the “Soul Food Café.” (It’s where Aretha Franklin sings “Think”; the original sign is briefly visible in an external shot with bluesman John Lee Hooker busking outside.)
The very real story behind Nate’s is likewise ready-made for the silver screen. Nate Duncan first got a job at what was then called Lyon’s Delicatessen as a teenager. After years working for a Jewish clientele, Duncan learned Yiddish and, in 1972, took over the business. His Tribune obituary in 2006 cites him as an important transitional figure as the area around Maxwell Street changed from predominantly Jewish to African American. To convince Duncan to let them film inside the deli, “Blues Brothers” producers offered to finance a new sign for Nate’s, which hung outside the deli until Duncan reluctantly sold the storefront to the University of Illinois Chicago in 1994. It’s now on display in the exhibition.
Nearby, visitors can take in a reel of other deli pop-culture highlights. That includes the infamous scene from “When Harry Met Sally” — though it took some creative thinking to include it while keeping the exhibition family-friendly.
“Directional speaker. That’s our answer,” Weininger says.
“I’ll Have What She’s Having” leaves viewers with a mixed prognosis of the Jewish deli’s future. It pays tribute to notable closures — et tu, Carnegie Deli? — and the list of erstwhile delis on Weininger’s list is longer and denser than her list of holdouts.
But where there’s tradition there’s also innovation. The exhibition shines an especially bright spotlight on Sam & Gertie’s, an Uptown joint that lays claim to being the “world’s first vegan Jewish deli,” with seitan corned “unbeef” and cured tomato “läks.” (It’s even earned a nod from PETA.)
Nor have purist visitors pooh-poohed the notion of a meatless, fishless, dairyless deli, at least in Weininger’s earshot. For the most part, she says, visitors leave “I’ll Have What She’s Having” curious — and hungry.
“It’s this wonderful piece of Jewish culture that I think people find really heartwarming. Like a bowl of matzah ball soup,” Weininger says.
Hannah Edgar is a freelance writer.
