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A new photo book celebrates the very Jewish cafeteria culture of a vanished New York
(New York Jewish Week) – Back in 1975, Marcia Bricker Halperin had just graduated from Brooklyn College with the dream of becoming a professional photographer when she stepped into the Flatbush outpost of Dubrow’s, a cafeteria-style restaurant, for a warm cup of coffee.
It was there that inspiration hit. “I was wonderstruck,” Halperin writes in the introduction to her new book of photographs, “Kibbitz & Nosh: When We All Met at Dubrow’s Cafeteria,” describing the “cavernous” space with mirrored walls and a mosaic fountain. “It was the most idiosyncratic room I had ever seen.”
“I sensed it was a vanishing world on its last legs, and that impelled me to document it,” she continues. “On many visits, the tables were empty, sans a painterly still life of condiment bottles and jars in the morning light. I also perceived cafeterias as places that embodied a secular Jewish culture, something that was of great interest to me.”
“I attended a lecture by Isaac Bashevis Singer, who was billed as an “Outstanding Anglo -Yiddish” author, at the Brooklyn Jewish Center on Eastern Parkway in Crown Heights,” Bricker Halperin writes in the introduction. “I adored his short stories, many of which were set in cafeterias, and I regret never finding the nerve that day to tell him about my own cafeterianiks.” (Marcia Bricker Halperin)
Halperin was prescient: She started photographing these once-ubiquitous eateries one decade before the final Dubrow’s location in the Garment District would close in 1985. The chain’s first location was founded in 1929 on the Lower East Side by Benjamin Dubrow, a Jewish immigrant from Minsk. By the mid-twentieth century, the family-owned company expanded throughout Brooklyn, Manhattan and Miami Beach, with ownership passing to the second generation, and then to the third. In Dubrow’s prime, a stop at one of the cafeterias was practically required for politicians such as John F. Kennedy and Jimmy Carter.
Nearly 50 years after her first visit, Halperin’s new book is a tribute to this now-defunct New York City cafeteria culture and the characters she met during the five years she regularly photographed there. The compelling 152-page book features her original black-and-white photos along with essays from Pulitzer Prize–winning playwright Donald Margulies and Jewish American historian Deborah Dash Moore.
“Although Jews were not the only ones to patronize cafeterias, they preferred them as inexpensive places to hang out to bars, which often attracted an Irish immigrant or working-class clientele,” Moore writes in her essay, titled “See You at Dubrow’s.” “By the 1930s, cafeterias were part of the fabric of Jewish neighborhood life in New York City, a welcome alternative for socializing to cramped apartments, street corners, or candy stores.”
Now living in Park Slope and retired from a career as a special education teacher, Halperin talked with the New York Jewish Week about the city’s lost cafeteria culture and what inspired her to capture it with her camera.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
New York Jewish Week: You took these photos nearly 50 years ago. What made you decide to publish them now?
Marcia Bricker Halperin: In the 1970s, there was such good feedback on the work. I was given a show, I was collected by a few people, I had a photo in The New York Times. People wrote me letters in the mail: “Ms. Bricker, I’m interested in buying one of your photos.” At the time, I was in a project called the CETA artists project, a federally funded arts project in the ’70s where I was paid to be a photographer. It was very much like the [Depression-era] WPA project, but one of the great differences with the CETA project was anything you shot, you owned.
So I continued photographing changing New York during those years — some of it by assignment for nonprofit organizations that I worked with, like the Jewish Museum and an organization in Brighton Beach that was resettling the Soviet Jews that were arriving in the ’70s. They wanted photographs to help both the Soviet Jews understand American life and the old Jewish population in Brighton Beach understand Russian life. What a great opportunity!
I was going to be an artist and I did adjunct teaching and different things to make it work. I kind of fell into teaching high school photography and then, from there, I fell into teaching special education — that took over. Thirty-five years later, I retired from teaching. The day after I retired, I took out my negatives and my photography stuff and bought a scanner and all kinds of printers and things.
So, I was a photographer once upon a time and then taught for many years and, overnight, I became one once again.
A man reads the Forvertz newspaper in Yiddish. (Marcia Bricker Halperin)
How did it feel to see these photos again? Had you developed any of them before?
Yes, I printed quite a few of them then. I worked as a darkroom lab technician, so I had an opportunity in the ’70s to do a lot of silver gelatin prints. I would bring in a thick envelope of the imperfect prints to the cafeteria and at that point, everybody knew me. I gave out portraits to people. If I hadn’t shot them, they would gather around me asking: “Do you have my picture? Did you print it?” Especially the staff — there was a very international cohort of people working there and they all wanted pictures to send home to their families.
After that, the pictures lay fallow for all these years. I protected them and stored them very carefully. When I had the opportunity to come back and put together a sample book, I started looking through the negatives and I said, “Oh, my God, I don’t remember that picture.” It was a time warp to see some of these photos taken in the 1970s. In Manhattan, the ’60s had happened, but Flatbush in Brooklyn was the “Old Country.” It hung onto the past for a while and some women dressed like they were still in the 1950s.
Dubrow’s Cafeteria, Kings’s Highway 1975. The photographer appears in the top left corner. (Marcia Bricker Halperin)
Dubrow’s closed just ten years after you started shooting there. Could you feel at the time that cafeteria culture was ending?
I kept a journal at the time. When I went back 42 years later to look at it, I had written: “One day I’m going to show up here and this is going to be closed.”
There were other cafeterias in Manhattan and the Bronx and they had all closed. I’ve collected like every article ever written about cafeterias, and there’s one from 1973: “Are cafeterias going to be gone?” So it was fairly well known that this was a vanishing kind of establishment in New York. The automats ceased having the little boxes, Burger King bought them out, they tried to modernize and it got pretty sad. Sometimes during the day, the huge cafeteria would be empty and people would say, “This business can’t survive.” So I knew I was photographing in the vein of needing to document the things that are there and will be gone. It was one of the things that propelled me to get out there and photograph.
Today, things are different. There’s food courts and wonderful little coffee places. There are many businesses, especially here in Brooklyn, trying to perpetuate “grandmother foods” and there are restaurants that are serving “reinvented Jewish-style foods.” So there are some continuations, but in terms of the huge, opulent cafeteria spaces — grand professional murals, intricate woodworking, food with a crazy amount of preparation, 300 items, 30 different cakes — no restaurant could possibly survive like that. The only thing that still exists are my photos of them.
Men and women converse around empty tables at Dubrow’s on Kings Highway. (Marcia Bricker Halperin)
What was the Jewish culture of Dubrow’s and Flatbush like at the time?
Growing up, we went to a little old “Conservadox” synagogue. We were the kind of family where my mother kept a kosher kitchen at home, but on Sunday nights we’d go out to the Chinese restaurant. Dubrow’s menu was “Jewish-style” but it was also a place you could go out and have your first shrimp salad sandwich, which became their most popular food. They were famous for shrimp salad!
These cafeterias were all started by Jewish immigrants. But they were democratic for everyone — there was ham on the menu, shrimp. You could choose whether to have just meat or have a meat meal and then have a cream pie for dessert. That was your choice. With cafeteria-style, like religion, you pick and choose what you want and what you want to observe.
When I would go there, all the older people would ask: “Are you Jewish? You don’t look Jewish.” I’d say,“I’m Jewish. I know a few words of Yiddish, my parents speak Yiddish at home.” They would be satisfied with that. There was this sense that it was a club a little bit, it was a Jewish establishment. Not that everybody wasn’t welcome, and everybody socialized with everyone else.
Socializing was a big thing there, not necessarily eating. Many of my pictures are people sitting around — sometimes it’s a coffee cup on the table, most of the time the table is empty. They were there to meet their friends and talk. Some people said it replaced the synagogues. The old men would go to Dubrow’s and have a cup of coffee with their friends in the morning and gossip and talk.
“Kibbitz & Nosh: When We All Met at Dubrow’s Cafeteria” will be published on May 15, 2023. The photos are on exhibit at the Edward Hopper House in Nyack, New York through June 25.
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How to make quick and easy Sephardi pumpkin patties for Hanukkah
In the United States, pumpkin pie is almost mandatory at Thanksgiving, while pumpkin makes occasional appearances in sweet breads and sometimes a creamy soup during the fall and winter — all the way through Hanukkah. Pumpkin also holds a special place in the stomachs — and history — of Sephardic Jews. This versatile fruit is used in cakes, soups, stews, puddings, jams, pastries and pancakes — including latkes. It can be savory or sweet and baked, boiled, roasted, steamed or stuffed. And, yes, it’s a fruit much like avocados, tomatoes and squash.
Pumpkins have been around as a cultivated food for a surprisingly long time. Native Americans grew them for nearly 6,000 years before pumpkins became one of the first New World foods introduced to Europeans by Spanish explorers in the early 1500s.
During the 16th century, the Jews remaining in Iberia were nearly all conversos, converts to Christianity, with many secretly hanging onto their Judaism, often through food. During the 16th and 17th centuries, these secret Jews continued to flee Spain’s inquisition across Europe to the Ottoman Empire and throughout the Mediterranean and Middle East, bringing with them their love of this new ingredient, pumpkin. As Gil Marks notes in “The Encyclopedia of Jewish Food:” The presence of pumpkin in early Mediterranean dishes is usually a sign of Sephardi influence.” You can read more about the history of Sephardim and pumpkin here.
From this Sephardi influence, Italian Jews were among the first to robustly incorporate pumpkin into their cuisine, becoming known for their pumpkin-stuffed ravioli and tortellini, puddings and sweet pumpkin fritters (fritelle di zucca). Sephardim who found new homes in what is now Turkey and Greece made many pumpkin dishes, including filling flakey Ottoman pastries to make borekas de kalavasa (pumpkin in Ladino, the language of Sephardim) and deep-fried pumpkin fritters or sweet pancakes, both called bimuelos de kalavasa. There are, by the way, different versions of the name, which include bumuelos, birmuelos and, in Central America, buñuelos.
We can’t talk about pumpkins without bringing up its 21st-century status as a “super food” acclaimed for its nutrient-dense benefits. Pumpkin flesh is fat-free, and high in fiber, potassium and vitamin C. It provides antioxidants and is one of the best sources of beta carotene. All this adds up to being good for hearts, eyesight, weight control and cancer-fighting. Canned pumpkin still has these healthy benefits including 7 grams of fiber per cup, more than two slices of whole wheat bread. In fact, unlike most fruits and vegetables, nutritionally, canned pumpkin is usually as good, or even better, than the homemade puree… and a whole lot less work.
Sephardim recognize pumpkin’s importance during the fall holidays. At the traditional Sephardi Rosh Hashanah seder, one of the special seven blessings is symbolized by pumpkin (or its close relative, squash). At Sukkot, not only is pumpkin a fall crop, but the many seeds symbolize fertility and abundance. These pumpkin patties, bimuelos de kalavasa, are perfect for Hanukkah along with the deep-fried version.
So this year, for your potato latke-laden Hanukkah, let these pumpkins patties bring an easy and tasty bite of Sephardi history to the table.
This story originally appeared on The Nosher.
The post How to make quick and easy Sephardi pumpkin patties for Hanukkah appeared first on The Forward.
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The Gaza International Stabilization Force Can Be the IDF
A Red Cross vehicle, escorted by a van driven by a Hamas terrorist, moves in an area within the so-called “yellow line” to which Israeli troops withdrew under the ceasefire, as Hamas says it continues to search for the bodies of deceased hostages seized during the Oct. 7, 2023, attack on Israel, in Gaza City, Nov. 12, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Dawoud Abu Alk
On December 29, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu will meet with US President Donald Trump to weigh options for implementing Phase 2 of the Gaza ceasefire plan, which was endorsed by UN Security Council Resolution 2803.
The most urgent task in Phase 2 is addressed by the resolution at Section 7. The provision urges the many interested parties — called Member States — to organize an International Stabilization Force (ISF) that will disarm Hamas and demilitarize Gaza.
It won’t be easy. Most Member States are unwilling or reluctant to commit troops to the ISF. Others suggest the ISF should be a mere monitoring group similar to the UN peacekeepers in Lebanon. However, those “blue helmets” did nothing to disarm the Lebanese-based Hezbollah terrorist group, or to demilitarize its zone of operations.
The only fighting force with the demonstrated motivation and ability to execute the mandated mission of disarmament and demilitarization is the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF). The IDF nearly defeated Hamas in October, but stopped at Hamas’ last stronghold when the ceasefire deal was signed.
Section 7 does not mention whether the ISF may be composed of just a single state. The authors expected a multinational ISF, perhaps because they believed the involvement of a few Muslim states would act as a buffer against perceived IDF aggression. On the other hand, the text of Section 7 may be reasonably interpreted to permit a delegation of the ISF’s entire workload to the IDF.
To begin with, Section 7 requires the ISF to “use all necessary measures” to achieve the military objectives of Phase 2. Member States may comply with this clause by empowering the IDF to disarm Hamas and demilitarize Gaza. The wording does not require the use of force to be conducted by a minimum number of Member States.
Next, Section 7 compels the ISF to work “in close cooperation” with Egypt and Israel. Assembling the ISF from the ranks of Israel’s own army would help cement such cross-border cooperation.
The section also instructs the ISF to “train and support vetted Palestinian police forces.” No military unit is more fit for that function than the IDF, based on its decades of interactions with the Palestinian police.
A related operational factor supports the concept of an ISF staffed by IDF troops. The IDF maintains crucial contacts with anti-Hamas militias in Gaza. Those resistance fighters know the complex urban terrain, and they command respect among area civilians. Including them in the ISF mission would be a strong force multiplier.
In an IDF-as-ISF model, the funding mechanism of Section 7 would remain unchanged. Member states and other donors would simply direct their “voluntary contributions” to Israel instead of some other ISF incarnation. A Member State that refuses to contribute funding could be excluded from the multinational Board of Peace, which the UN resolution envisions as Gaza’s transitional government.
Section 7 states that when Gaza reaches the point of “control and stability,” the IDF must withdraw to a designated “security perimeter presence” in the enclave. Some may fear that awarding the ISF function to the IDF would incentivize Israel to occupy all of Gaza, and potentially extend sovereignty to the domain, with no admission of control or stability. However, Section 7 already stipulates that the withdrawal milestone must be determined jointly by a diverse group of decision-makers, including not only the IDF but the US, Egypt, Qatar, and Turkey.
Finally, giving the ISF role to the IDF would help ensure the Phase 2 goals are met “without delay,” as demanded by the resolution at Section 1. Hamas has already caused weeks of delay by dragging out the hostage return process required by the first phase of the ceasefire plan. The procrastination enabled Hamas to consolidate its power. For example, the terror group recruited more fighters, converted al-Nasser Hospital into a prison to torture dissidents, and wrangled more funding from its terrorist patron, Iran. Consequently, it will now take more time to disarm the group and demilitarize the enclave. Waiting even longer to attain the unrealistic dream of a multi-state ISF would cause even more delay. The setback would not only embolden Hamas but prolong the suffering of Gaza’s war-torn civilian population.
It’s likely that many UN member states would reject this plan, because it’s not what they believed they signed onto. But so far, none of them has put forth a better or more realistic alternative. Moderate states don’t want to send troops, and extremist states like Turkey (which supports Hamas) cannot be allowed to.
No amount of UN resolutions will help Gaza recover from the Hamas-initiated war until Hamas is defanged and its terrorist stronghold is demolished. That dirty work may not be popular, but it must be done. Otherwise, Hamas will continue to exploit Gaza as a launching pad for its ruinous attacks.
Joel M. Margolis is the Legal Commentator, American Association of Jewish Lawyers and Jurists, US Affiliate of the International Association of Jewish Lawyers and Jurists. His 2001 book, “The Israeli-Palestinian Legal War,” analyzed the major legal issues in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Previously he worked as a telecommunications lawyer in both the public and private sectors.
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A Gazan Warehouse of Baby Formula Exposes Hamas Was Withholding Food From Children
The New York Times building in New York City. Photo: Wikimedia Commons
Throughout the summer of 2025, doctors in Gaza repeatedly warned that babies were going hungry due to a shortage of infant formula. These claims were amplified across global media and social platforms, often delivered in dramatic appeals for urgent international intervention. Over time, the narrative became one of the most prominent humanitarian storylines of the season.
The New York Times wrote that “Parents in Gaza Are Running Out of Ways to Feed Their Children,” and The Guardian urged action as babies were “at risk of death from lack of formula.”
Perhaps most widely known were the stories of malnourished children in Gaza whose gaunt images dominated front pages around the world. Families of these young children pleaded for international intervention, saying they had “no formula, no supplements, no vitamins” to feed their babies.
Although some of these children were later reported to have had pre-existing medical conditions that contributed to their malnourishment, much of the media continued to advance a narrative suggesting that Israel was deliberately targeting children by restricting adequate humanitarian aid to Gaza.
Israel, however, consistently maintained that there was a steady supply of infant formula entering Gaza. At the height of the media frenzy over alleged starvation, Israeli records showed that more than 1,400 tons of baby formula, including specialized formulations for infants with medical needs, had been delivered into the Strip.
So where was all the formula?
In Hamas-controlled warehouses.
This week, anti-Hamas activists exposed a storage facility operated by the Hamas-run Gaza Ministry of Health stocked with large quantities of baby formula and nutritional supplements intended for children — supplies that had never reached the families featured in international headlines.
This is the terror organization Israel has been fighting for the past two years, and precisely why its removal from power in Gaza remains a central condition of any lasting ceasefire.
Hamas’ campaign is not driven solely by hostility toward Israel, but by a calculated willingness to endanger its own civilians to advance its goal of dismantling the Jewish State. That strategy has included obstructing or diverting humanitarian aid when it suited its aims — even when the victims were children.
By placing Gazan lives in harm’s way and exploiting their suffering, Hamas weaponized heartbreaking images to sway global opinion against Israel. In the process, it manipulated media narratives while evading responsibility for the humanitarian consequences of its own actions. Tragically, it did so with considerable success.
The same outlets that aggressively promoted the claim that Israel was withholding aid and deliberately starving children by blocking access to infant formula have since gone conspicuously silent. A story that once dominated front pages around the world has virtually disappeared now that evidence has emerged showing that Israel was not the perpetrator.
Hamas manipulated the media — and it worked. By laundering terrorist propaganda through headlines, imagery, and selective outrage, then declining to correct the record once that narrative unraveled, major outlets exposed how vulnerable they are to manipulation when facts complicate preferred storylines.
Hamas has been the agitator all along, recklessly endangering both Palestinian and Israeli lives. It is time the media confront that reality and their role in falsely accusing Israel of starving innocent Palestinians.
The author is a contributor to HonestReporting, a Jerusalem-based media watchdog with a focus on antisemitism and anti-Israel bias — where a version of this article first appeared.