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How the Lower East Side has changed since the 1988 rom-com ‘Crossing Delancey’
(New York Jewish Week) — The classic and very Jewish 1988 film “Crossing Delancey” is one of those movies that feels both extremely of its time and also completely timeless.
Director Joan Micklin Silver’s film has all the classic rom-com trappings: A woman who’s torn between two men (and to that end, two worlds); complaints about how hard it is to meet a man in New York City (as true in 1988 as it is in 2022), and a “mother” figure who knows better (here, a Jewish grandmother known as Bubbe, and in this case, she actually does know better). You could pluck all these specifics and drop them into a present-day film — and, if told with the heart and care of “Crossing Delancey,” still have a pretty good movie.
Yet there’s one thing about the “Crossing Delancey” that fully anchors it in the past, and that is its late-1980s Lower East Side setting. While our heroine, Izzy (Amy Irving), lives and works on the Upper West Side, she pays frequent visits to her Bubbe (Yiddish theater actress Reizl Bozyk), her grandmother, downtown. From the moment that Izzy steps off the train at Delancey Street, she’s transported to another world: a bustling Jewish enclave with market-goers shopping for produce, friends and neighbors in the streets kibbitzing and a Hasidic child sitting outside the subway, enjoying a treat from a local bakery.
This dichotomy between the “Old World” of the Lower East Side and the “New World” uptown is the central conflict of the film: Izzy’s inability to reconcile her Jewish roots with her desire to live a secular, intelligentsia lifestyle, as represented by her two love interests (Sam the Pickle Man and Anton, the self-important author).
However, rewatching the film in the present day, I can’t help but wonder: Would Izzy run from the shtetl if she knew that in a few years, it wouldn’t exist anymore? That due to rising rents and a shift in population, many Jewish businesses would meet their end — or, somewhat ironically, be part of the flight to Brooklyn that began in the early-to-mid 2000s? In some ways, 1988 itself was the beginning and the end: It marked the opening of the Lower East Side Tenement Museum, an effort to preserve the neighborhood’s immigrant past, and it was the very same year that Mayor Koch created a new redevelopment proposal for the Seward Park Extension, a canary in the coal mine for the sea change of development the city would see over the next 30 years.
Re-watching the film in 2022, it struck me how the Lower East Side’s bustling Jewish enclave — the same place where my grandparents were born and raised — has since been lost to time, gentrification and re-zoning plans. These days, the neighborhood paints a different picture entirely: giant buildings hog entire city blocks, with construction promising even more sky-high buildings. There’s no specific character to the neighborhood, no story to tell, few places more integral to the city’s fabric than the Delancey-Essex McDonald’s.
Of course, if you’ve lived in the city long enough, you know there’s no getting comfortable. New Yorkers have to, in essence, harden their hearts. We must accept that the local business you love that’s here today very well could be gone tomorrow — even if that business is a Duane Reade. The Lower East Side of today is not the neighborhood of 1988, or 1968 or 1928.
But amongst all of the present-day residential developments, upscale clothing stores and fast food chains, old-school Jewish businesses like The Pickle Guys, Kossar’s Bagels and Bialys and Yonah Schimmel’s Knish Bakery are still thriving. (And, I’d like to think that if you look hard enough, you’ll find some meddling but well-meaning bubbes and yentas, too.)
While we might not be able to fully experience the Lower East Side as the cast and crew of “Crossing Delancey,” here are four places from “Crossing Delancey” that you can still visit, and four that are sadly gone forever.
What Remains Today
Bubbe’s Apartment
154 Broome Street
The interior shots of Bubbe’s apartment, where Izzy fulfills all of her granddaughterly duties, like singing with her grandmother in Yiddish and plucking her chin hairs, were filmed at 154 Broome Street. The 181-unit building sits at the mouth of the Williamsburg Bridge — which is why Bubbe has that spectacular view — and is part of the New York City Housing Authority’s Seward Park Housing Extension. So while you still can visit the exterior of Bubbe’s apartment building today, don’t linger too long — it might weird out the current tenants.
Essex Market
108 Essex Street
This one is a little complicated. The original Essex Market, where Bubbe shows off her Korean-language skills, still stands today. (If you get off at the subway at Delancey Street, you can’t really miss it.) But that iteration of the market closed its doors in 2019 — in order to relocate to a building across the street so big and so glassy it would make Michael Bloomberg blush. In addition to apartments, office space and a movie theater (it’s a truly mixed-use building for our modern times!), Essex Market does boast local, independent vendors, such as Essex Olive & Spice, Porto Rico Importing Co. and Puebla Mexicana food. Per the New York Times, only one of the market’s vendors decided to forgo the move, opting instead for retirement. But you might want to pay a visit to the original Essex Market while you still can — even if only to give it one last look. Following the move, Essex Market initially housed some avant-garde art installations, but it has since seemingly closed its doors for good. According to Gothamist, it’s to be razed to create — what else? — more condos.
Seward Park Handball Court
Essex Street between Grand and Hester Streets
From the moment Sam and Izzy meet, he makes no effort to hide his ardor. In fact, I’d say he uses every weapon in his arsenal to demonstrate his interest — even going so far as to try to impress her with his handball skills when she unexpectedly drops by the court. (You might also clock his CUNY sweatshirt, as I most certainly did.) The handball court is still there, should you decide you want to play a pickup game, but sadly the court’s colorful mural depicted in the film has since been painted over.
Bonus: Gray’s Papaya
2090 Broadway
While this article is focused on the film’s Lower East Side locations, and with good reason, we’d be remiss if we didn’t point out that one important New York institution Izzy visits triumphantly remains: The Upper West Side Gray’s Papaya. There, Izzy celebrates her birthday with a friend and a hot dog — the right way to do it, in my opinion — when a woman bursts in singing “Some Enchanted Evening,” for everyone and no one in particular. It’s one of many of the film’s classic New York moments.
What’s Been Replaced
Steinberg’s Dairy
21 Essex Street
When Izzy emerges from that train at Delancey Street, director Silver takes great care to immerse us in this world. The camera stays on Izzy as she walks from the subway to Bubbe’s apartment, passing a host of local businesses along the way. Among them is Steinberg’s Dairy, which once lived at 21 Essex Street. Steinberg’s Dairy, which also had an Upper West Side location, offered staples like herring, egg salad and vegetarian chopped liver for less than a dollar back in 1941. Today, if you’re in the area, you can grab a drink at the punk rock bar Clockwork, which opened in 2013.
Zelig Blumenthal
13 Essex Street
Izzy also takes us by Zelig’s Blumenthal (also known as Z & A Kol Torah), where three older women sit outside, enjoying the sights and sounds around them. Once a popular Judaica store, it unexpectedly closed its Lower East Side doors in 2010 after 60 years in business. At the time, then-owner Mordechai Blumenthal made the decision to relocate the store to Flatbush due to a dwindling Orthodox population and foot traffic in the area, and a landlord who made clear he “wanted him gone.” It’s unclear if the Flatbush location remains open today, but a vintage clothing store called Country Of has taken up its original spot.
Posner’s Pickles (AKA Guss’ Pickles)
35 Essex Street
Posner’s Pickles, as run by Sam the Pickle Man in the film, was never exactly a real place to begin with. Filming took place at the world-famous Guss’ Pickles, which first opened on Hester Street in 1920, before relocating to Essex Street, where there were once over 80 pickle vendors for locals to choose from. After a stint on Orchard Street, Guss’ Pickles followed in the footsteps of so many others by then, leaving Manhattan to open up shop in Brooklyn’s Dekalb Market in 2017. While Guss’ Pickles is today based out of the Bronx, their delicious pickles are available to order no matter where you are in the country, via Goldbelly. Today, 35 Essex Street is home to Delancey Wine — appropriately named, but doesn’t offer possibilities for a slogan like “a joke and a pickle for only a nickel,” as Posner’s Pickles did in the film.
Schapiro’s Kosher Wines
124 Rivington Street
For 100 years, Schapiro’s Kosher Wines proudly served the Jewish community as the only kosher winery in New York City. It’s where Bubbe chides Izzy for her lack of interest in Sam, and while today the pair couldn’t have this conversation outside Schapiro’s, they could grab brunch at the restaurant Essex. Home to New York City’s “longest-running Brunch Party,” Essex salutes its Lower East Side roots with dishes like potato pancakes and Israeli couscous.
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The Energy Dilemma: Will Washington Let the Iranian Regime Survive?
A fire burns at South Pars gas field, in Tonbak, Bushehr Province, Iran, in this screen grab from a handout video released on June 14, 2025. Photo: Social Media/via REUTERS
For the first time since the “Second Iran War” began its lightning-fast escalation across the Persian Gulf, a palpable chill has settled over the direct line between the Prime Minister’s Office in Jerusalem and the White House.
While the last 24 hours have seen the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) systematically dismantle the command-and-control structures of the Islamic Republic, a new “Red Line” has emerged — not from Tehran, but from Washington.
Reports circulating early Wednesday suggest that the Trump administration has signaled a sharp hesitation regarding Israel’s planned strikes on Iran’s vital energy infrastructure, specifically the massive South Pars gas field.
As the IDF pushes for total “de-regimification,” the geopolitical friction between two of the world’s closest allies is reaching a boiling point. The question now haunts the halls of the Knesset: Will the American desire for global energy stability stop Israel from achieving a permanent victory?
The South Pars field is more than just a cluster of offshore platforms; it is the respiratory system of the Iranian regime. Holding an estimated 8% of the world’s natural gas reserves, it provides the hard currency that funds the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC)’s regional proxies and its domestic oppression apparatus. For Israel, the logic is simple: you cannot kill the beast while you are still allowing it to breathe.
However, the global markets have reacted with predictable tremors. With the “Second Iran War” already pushing Brent crude toward historic highs, Washington’s reluctance is rooted in the fear of a global “energy shock” that could destabilize the US and world economy. The reported message from the White House to Israel has been one of containment– urging the IDF to “finish the job” on the military leadership. while leaving the energy faucets intact.
But for those who have spent decades analyzing the Middle East, this “half-measure” approach is a recipe for disaster.
Letting the Iranian Regime Survive to Fight Another Day
If the South Pars field remains operational, the regime retains the ability to re-arm, regroup, and wait out the current political storm. History is littered with “half-finished” wars that sowed the seeds of the next generation’s bloodshed. By drawing a red line at Iran’s energy assets, Washington is effectively offering the IRGC a lifeline just as it is gasping for air.
The strategic divergence is clear: Washington is playing a game of global economic management, while Jerusalem is fighting an existential war for the survival of the Jewish State.
The tension comes at a delicate moment. The elimination of Ali Larijani and Intelligence Minister Esmail Khatib signaled that the regime’s political “mask” had been shattered. The “Axis of Resistance” is crumbling, with even longtime “bridge-builders” like Qatar expelling Iranian diplomats in the wake of the latest missile skirmishes.
In the streets of Tel Aviv and the Jewish diaspora, the sentiment is one of “never again.” There is a deep-seated realization that if the Islamic Republic is allowed to survive this conflict with its economic engine intact, the cycle of terror — from Hamas to Hezbollah — will inevitably restart.
“We are not interested in ‘de-escalation’ for the sake of a cheaper gallon of gas,” one senior Israeli defense official reportedly said under the condition of anonymity. “We are interested in a Middle East where our children do not have to run to bomb shelters every six months. That requires the total neutralization of the threat.”
The Geopolitics of Victory
Peace only occurs when the enemy is convinced they have lost. By shielding Iran’s energy sector, the United States is signaling to the remnants of the mullahs that they still have cards to play. It reinforces the regime’s belief that they are “too big to fail” because of their grip on the world’s thermostat.
Moreover, the “Energy Red Line” risks alienating regional allies who have finally begun to pivot away from Tehran.
If the US appears to be protecting the regime’s assets, the incentive for Gulf states to fully align with the Abraham Accords framework diminishes. Why risk everything for a “new Middle East” if the old one is being kept on life support by Washington?
The Choice Ahead
President Trump, who has frequently touted his role as a “disruptor,” now faces his own paradox. He can choose the short-term stability of the global energy markets, or he can support the long-term stability of a world without a nuclear-armed, terror-funding Islamic Republic.
The stakes couldn’t be higher. We have seen what happens when the world chooses “management” over “victory.” It results in Oct. 7, 2023; it results in 1979; it results in a perpetual state of siege.
Israel is ready to finish the war. The only question remains: Will Washington let them win?
Amine Ayoub, a fellow at the Middle East Forum, is a policy analyst and writer based in Morocco. Follow him on X: @amineayoubx
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Can James Talarico’s faith-forward politics invigorate the Jewish religious left?
(JTA) — In a recent interview for his New York Times podcast, Ezra Klein asked Texas State Rep. James Talarico why the Christian right puts so much focus on abortion and gay marriage.
“I’m Jewish, but when I read the New Testament, I always come away a little bit amazed that politicized Christianity is so worried about gender and sexuality, and so unconcerned with greed,” said Klein.
Talarico, 36, answered in the religious language that has made him not just a political darling in Texas, where he hopes to do the unthinkable and flip a Senate seat from red to blue, but a national figure.
“You’re preaching to the choir,” Talarico responded with a knowing laugh. “Absolutely. Concern for the poor, concern for the oppressed, is everywhere. Economic justice is mentioned 3,000 times in our Scriptures, both the New Testament and the Hebrew Scriptures. This is such a core part of our tradition, and it’s nowhere to be seen in Christian nationalism or on the religious right.”
His response was what the Texas Tribune has called “archetypal Talarico fare”: a blend of religion and “progressive, populist politics.” It has also made him the standard-bearer for a resurgent religious left, which includes more than a few Jews, in Texas and beyond, who have longed for a liberal politician who can speak from and to the language of faith.
“We need the kind of religious values [that] tell us that we are all made in God’s image,” said Joshua Shanes, a historian at the University of California-Davis, explaining why he’s excited by Talarico’s candidacy. “Religious values tell us that the government should be there to create a social safety net and create a healthcare system that helps everyone, and progressive taxation.”
The majority of Jews have tended to consistently support such positions, and vote accordingly. What Talarico adds to the mix is the faith-first rhetoric of the budding minister – which he is, pursuing a degree in theology at a Presbyterian seminary.
While mainstream Democrats will invoke their religious faith on the campaign trail, they rarely make it a signature. When the late Rabbi Michael Lerner, in the pages of his Tikkun magazine in the 1990s and early 2000s, called for the need of a religious left as an alternative to the Christian right, he found few Jewish allies. Jews were long wary of a Christian right that seeks to erase the line between church and state, and, like many liberals, tended to favor what the writer Cynthia Ozick has called the “unadorned public square” — a politics where religion remains a private matter.
Jewish conservatives, meanwhile, had long made peace with the Christian right, sharing its views on public funding for parochial schools and uncritical support for Israel.
In polling done in 2024, however, the Pew Research Center and other surveys indicated that younger progressives are open to candidates whose religious faith motivates social justice commitments, as long as it doesn’t translate into restrictive policy.
Perhaps noting this trend, Pennsylvania Gov. Josh Shapiro, in his recent autobiography, centered his religious Jewish identity in describing his political philosophy. “Now more than ever, we yearn for and need a world defined by faith,” writes Shapiro. “It’s universal, this belief in others to help us through what feels unsettled, uncivil, un-American.”
Shanes, whose specialty is modern Jewish political and cultural history, counts himself among those who were once doctrinaire about a secular public square but who now think Americans crave “the transcendent,” even in their politics. He views Talarico’s political message not just as a novelty, but as a necessity.
“My goal is a humanist morality,” he said, “and I don’t think a secular version of it is going to succeed, not in America.”
Talarico similarly talks about his religion as a source of his political values, but not as a means of coercion. Last year, Talarico opposed legislation requiring the Ten Commandments to be displayed in public school classrooms. “I found it offensive as an educator that we would impose one religious tradition onto all of our students, including students that don’t belong to that particular tradition,” Talarico, who taught language arts at a public school in San Antonio, explained at the time.
“He thinks that protections in the Constitution are good for Christianity, good for Judaism and good for all people and religion, because teaching religion is appropriate in the churches and not in the government,” said Marc Stanley, a Houston attorney, former U.S. ambassador to Argentina and prolific Democratic fundraiser.
Raised in the Austin suburb of Round Rock by a single mother, Talarico grew up attending a Presbyterian church. His grandfather was a Baptist minister. In 2018, he flipped a swing district in Round Rock, becoming the youngest member of the Texas House at 29.
Even before last month’s Democratic primary, he attracted an enormous online following (for a politician) for videos explaining his religious, liberal worldview. On TikTok, where he posts clips with titles like “Love can win” and “There is nothing more un-Christian than stealing from the poor to give to the rich,” he has 1.6 million followers.
But it was his conversation last month with Stephen Colbert that brought him national attention, and arguably led to his victory over U.S. Rep. Jasmine Crockett in the Democratic primary for the Senate seat. When CBS told Colbert that broadcasting the interview on “The Late Show” would violate “equal time rules,” it ran instead on YouTube, where the controversy drove over 7.5 million views.
That interview also suggests another aspect of his appeal to a religious Jewish left: He disdains Christian nationalism, a movement to codify in law and culture that the United States is a Christian nation. “There is nothing Christian about Christian nationalism,” he told Colbert. “It is the worship of power in the name of Christ and it is a betrayal of Jesus of Nazareth.”
“His entire appeal to a lot of people is that he is using scripture to come at the right-wing Christian fundamentalist element in the state of Texas,” said Art Pronin, president of Meyerland Area Democrats in a heavily Jewish part of Houston.
Talarico’s language has won over even Jewish liberals who don’t regard themselves as religious, but see in his message a necessary corrective to the politics of the Texas Statehouse and the Trump White House.
“He has succeeded in reviving a certain kind of humanism which was, going back to the Renaissance, tied to religious belief, tied to Christian values, tied to Jewish values,” said Robert Zaretzky, a historian at the University of Houston and a self-described “cultural” Jew. “And when I talk about Jewish values, what I have in mind is menschlichkeit … a kind of decency for one’s fellow man. And that is just so evident in Talarico’s words, in his actions, and in the way that he has voted in the Texas State Legislature.”
Zaretzky also sees in Talarico a connection to Jewish tradition, whether it is the prophet Micah — “Act justly and love mercy” — or the Talmudic sage Hillel: “What is hateful to you, do not do to others. All the rest is commentary.”
“That is the essence of Talarico’s message, and something that drives Texas Republicans absolutely crazy,” said Zaretzky. Indeed, many conservative Christians regard Talarico’s views as heretical, because he uses church vocabulary to promote liberal views. Angry evangelicals often refer to him as a “wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
Of course, even a politician in such heady company as Micah and Hillel has liabilities. In December, the Jewish news site JNS reported that some Jewish leaders in Texas were “alarmed” by Talarico’s views on Israel. Among other things, he had decried “the atrocities in Palestine,” and pledged that he wouldn’t “fund these war crimes” and will vote “to ban offensive weapons to Israel.”
Talarico also said he wouldn’t accept support from AIPAC, the pro-Israel lobby that has become radioactive on both the left and far right.
Pronin remembers a town hall back in December, when Talarico repeated his criticisms of Israel.
“It has set up a lot of conflicted feelings in the Jewish community on his candidacy,” he said. “On the one hand, he is a very appealing candidate on many other key issues that we would care about, like health care and the economy. Israel? Not as much.”
Stanley, a Talarico supporter, isn’t troubled by the candidate’s views on Israel, which are becoming increasingly common in the Democratic Party.
“I think that we as a Jewish community make a mistake vilifying people or casting people as anti-Israel or antisemitic because they have the nerve to criticize somebody like Netanyahu,” said Stanley.
In January, in an email to Jewish supporters in Texas, Talarico promised that if he is elected to the Senate he will vote for arming Israel with defensive weapons. He wrote that he supports a two-state solution and removing Hamas from power, and referred to Oct. 7 as “the deadliest day for Jews since the Holocaust.”
“I think it is a very balanced and very bold position,” said Stanley.
And for pro-Israel Jews inclined toward progressive domestic politics, it may be a position that they will have to tolerate, or cede elections to Republicans who don’t criticize Israel, but disagree with them on nearly everything else.
Rabbi Nancy Kasten, the chief relationship officer at Faith Commons, an interfaith organization in Dallas, says there is “a lot of enthusiasm” for Talarico in the Jewish community. Still, she acknowledges that some of the things he has said about Israel have given critics the opportunity to pounce.
Kasten also said that some of his religious language is “jarring” for Jews, especially in invoking certain New Testament tropes.
She was looking forward to an upcoming meeting with the candidate, and hopes that he will be open to a conversation about how his language on Israel and religion lands in the Jewish community.
“Personally, I want a voice for separation of church and state, which we don’t have anymore,” she said. That said, she added, “I’m happy that there’s a different religious voice in the public square. Ceding that voice to the white, Christian, nationalist voice is harmful, and so I’m grateful that there’s somebody who seems to have the ear of people who speak that language and desire that language in politics and I’m grateful to have someone like that under the circumstances.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
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JB Pritzker once sat on AIPAC’s national board. Now he says he wants nothing to do with it.
(JTA) — Illinois Gov. JB Pritzker blasted AIPAC, the pro-Israel lobbying group, and other special interest groups that poured money into Illinois’ House and U.S. Senate races this week.
A Jewish Democrat who was once an AIPAC donor, Pritzker called the $70 million in outside spending “interference,” and said AIPAC in particular had lost its way as a truly bipartisan group.
“It became an organization that was supporting Donald Trump and people who follow Donald Trump,” Pritzker told the Associated Press. “AIPAC really is not an organization that I think today I would want any part of.”
AIPAC’s spending in a handful of Illinois congressional primaries was often at the center of the races’ coverage. The pro-Israel group claimed victory after none of the “Squad”-type, anti-Israel progressives won the nomination, though two of its four preferred House candidates lost.
Critics panned AIPAC for spending mostly through “shell PACs,” with innocuous-sounding names like “Elect Chicago Women” and “Affordable Chicago Now,” and said that was an indicator of AIPAC’s rapidly diminishing popularity among Democrats.
Pritzker, who is from one of Illinois’ wealthiest and most philanthropic families with a record of giving to Jewish causes, has a long record of supporting Israel. In 2013, he was honored at a fundraiser for Friends of the Israeli Defense Forces. He was once on the national board of AIPAC, and he spoke at a pro-Israel rally in the days following the Oct. 7, 2023, attack on Israel.
He is also a possible presidential candidate in party where a poll this week found that only 13% of members say they have a “positive” view of Israel, and where refusal of AIPAC support has become something of a litmus test.
California Gov. Gavin Newsom, also seen as likely to run in 2028, proudly said last month that he never has and “never will” accept any money from AIPAC.
While many Democrats’ positions on Israel have shifted over the course of the Gaza war, AIPAC has remained steadfast in drawing a red line against candidates who are open to conditioning military aid to Israel. Pritzker would be one of those candidates.
Though governors do not vote on matters of foreign policy, Pritzker came out in support of Sen. Bernie Sanders’ resolutions limiting weapons sales to Israel in 2025, saying it would send “the right kind of message.”
His comments on Wednesday were not his first public criticism of the group that he was once a donor to.
“I abandoned AIPAC more than a dozen years ago,” he said in a New York Times interview earlier this month. “It was an organization that had at one time been bipartisan in nature and really all about preserving a strong relationship between the United States and Israel. But about a dozen years ago, the organization began to lean much more to the right and much more pro-Trump, who had then become a candidate for president, and that disturbed me greatly.”
Pritzker noted that AIPAC was purely a public affairs council, and not a PAC at the time, meaning that it did not give money to candidates. It began donating directly to candidates only after forming a PAC in 2021.
“But the organization became political,” he said. “They created a super PAC. They began to get involved in elections directly and choosing to support candidates who were MAGA and right-wing and Trumpy.”
AIPAC, which prides itself on supporting candidates on both sides of the aisle, has faced criticism for endorsing more than 100 lawmakers who’d voted to overturn the election results after Trump’s loss on Jan. 6, 2021.
“I just didn’t want anything to do with that,” Pritzker said.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
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