Uncategorized
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.
—
The post A new photo book celebrates the very Jewish cafeteria culture of a vanished New York appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
Uncategorized
FIFA Takes No Action Against Israeli West Bank Settlement Soccer Clubs but Fines IFA for ‘Discrimination’
Soccer Football – FIFA Club World Cup – Group D – Esperance de Tunis v Chelsea – Lincoln Financial Field, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, US – June 24, 2025, General view of the FIFA logo before the match. Photo: REUTERS/Lee Smith
FIFA has rejected formal complaints by the Palestinian soccer federation to suspend its Israeli counterpart but has fined the Israel Football Association (IFA) on disciplinary charges related to “discrimination,” “offensive behavior,” and “violations of fair play,” the international governing body of soccer announced on Thursday.
At the 74th FIFA Congress in Bangkok in May 2024, the Palestinian Football Association (PFA) presented a proposal to sanction Israel’s soccer teams, including its national team, because of what they claimed were international law violations committed by Israeli forces in the Gaza Strip. The proposal also called on FIFA to take action against Israeli soccer clubs that the PFA claimed were based in Palestinian territory, particularly settlements in the West Bank.
The PFA further said that FIFA should address what it claimed was IFA’s failure in taking decisive action against alleged discrimination and racism. The Palestinian fedeation has claimed for years that Israel violates FIFA rules by allowing teams from settlements in the West Bank to play in its national league.
FIFA’s Disciplinary Committee ruled on Thursday that it will not take action against Israeli soccer clubs in West Bank settlements because of the “unresolved” legal status of the West Bank under international law.
“FIFA should take no action given that, in the context of the interpretation of the relevant provisions of the FIFA Statutes, the final legal status of the West Bank remains an unresolved and highly complex matter under public international law,” the committee said in a statement. “FIFA should continue to promote dialogue and offer mediation between the Palestine Football Association and the Israel Football Association at an operational level. In this context, FIFA will continue to facilitate structured engagement and monitor developments.”
However, FIFA’s Disciplinary Committee has fined the IFA 150,000 Swiss francs – which is almost $190,000, – for committing “grave and systematic violations of FIFA’s core principles.” The IFA is being sanctioned for “offensive behavior and violations of the principles of fair play” as well as “discrimination and racist abuse.” The fine was issued following FIFA’s investigation into complaints about the IFA’s handling of discrimination and racism in soccer. FIFA said the Israeli association had not taken enough action against repeated racist behavior by supporters of certain Israeli soccer clubs, including Beitar Jerusalem, and offensive and politicized public statements by Israeli soccer officials and clubs.
“The committee finds that IFA’s conduct has created a perception of impunity and selective enforcement, which is incompatible with the principles of fairness and universality that underpin the sport,” the panel announced. “In particular, by failing to condemn or remediate discriminatory practices and exclusionary policies — particularly those affecting Palestinians — the IFA has become institutionally complicit in a system that violates the core values of the game.”
One-third of the fine must be used to implement “a comprehensive plan to ensure action against discrimination and to prevent repeated incidents,” with a focus on certain areas including monitoring and educational campaigns. The IFA must also display a “significant and highly visible banner,” approved by FIFA, that says “Football Unites the World – No to Discrimination” alongside the IFA’s logo at its next three A‑level FIFA competition home matches.
The committee said it “cannot remain indifferent to the broader human context in which football operates,” and that the sport “must remain a platform for peace, dialogue, and mutual respect.”
Uncategorized
Move over Thomas Edison, this deli savant is the Garden State’s newest inventor
First, in 1876, Thomas Edison opened up his “invention factory” in Menlo Park, New Jersey. Then, in 1941, Alexander Graham Bell’s Bell Labs moved its headquarters to Murray Hill at the northern end of the state.
In 2021, another wide-eyed tinkerer set up shop in Jersey City, though his inventions would be molded out of rye, wheat and cured beef, not aluminum and tungsten.
The maverick’s name is Jason Stahl, a 48-year-old father with a career in publishing. He operates his food business under the name Hank Schwartz’s Delicatessen and Appetizing, cooking out of a ghost kitchen in Jersey City. And he does things with smoked fish that would make your bubbe blush.
Take his “Smoked Salmon Tartare,” for example. He mixes up capers, lemon, dill,and Dijon mustard so their breezy tartness lightens the Baltic smoke of nova. The pink concoction is a revelation, balancing out the fish’s brininess so that a diner would be tempted to eat an entire half-pound of the stuff in one sitting.
I speak from experience. I first tried Stahl’s cooking at Jersey City’s Riverview Farmer’s Market last fall, where he slings mind-bending, Jew-ish sandwiches, tartare, whitefish salad, olives, and various other noshes on a biweekly basis.
On a sunny day at the Farmer’s Market, a steady stream of customers poured in. One customer, a middle-aged man, asked about Stahl’s brisket sandwiches — Stahl had made shredded brisket and mixed it with horseradish mayonnaise to make a pulled meat sandwich, then layered it with caramelized onion jam.
Stahl was sold out. “Curse you,” the customer exclaimed.
From home cook to deli master
At the market, Stahl spoke softly to the people who came to his booth, greeting customers by their first names and chatting with boys about their favorite sports teams. His gentle cadence and warm smile bely what he says is an anxious disposition that his wife, and his cooking, help to temper.
Stahl says that, until recently, he had been more of a weekend warrior than a professional cook. “I’m not going to pretend I have this amazing culinary background, right?” he said. “I came into this more with a passion, and I’m learning.”
Still, he has hovered close to the restaurant world for a while. He has worked in media for decades, sometimes in food-adjacent roles (most recently as Food Editor at 1-800-Flowers.com). Stahl’s wife, Theresa Gambacourt, manages restaurants and writes cookbooks for a living.
Stahl learned to cook in part from studying cookbooks he got for free as a media professional. In his early days out of college, “I was always experimenting,” he recalled. “I messed up a whole bunch.”
Theresa showed him the tricks she picked up in restaurants, like using infused fats to make a confit. He uses that technique in his zaatar olives, which are submerged in a citrus garlic confit that adds a layer of refreshing depth to the Mediterranean staple.
Over time, his cooking became more and more elaborate. His wife asked the chef at Del Posto, a since-closed Italian fine dining stalwart, if Stahl could stage there; the chef agreed, and Stahl spent every Sunday evening for a year learning the ins-and-outs of the kitchen — including how to cure gravlax and slice meat.
Italy figures heavily in Stahl’s modern deli. His chopped liver, for example, is made with chopped capers and braised with red wine (he makes a mushroom version for those who fear chicken parts).
In around 2019, Theresa gave him Pastrami on Rye: An Overstuffed History of the Jewish Deli for his birthday, and the book planted an idea in his head: “What if we did this?” Stahl asked Theresa about the deli business.
What, she replied, would an amateur cook be able to contribute to such an endeavor?
“I can clean,” he recalls replying. “I’m really good at cleaning.”
Several years later, after the COVID-19 pandemic, he started selling pickles at Riggs Company Provisions, a vendor at the farmer’s market, and Riverview Wines, a nearby wine shop. Today, his pickles encompass classic dill pickles brightened with dried mint, spicy pickles spiked with habanero and Aleppo peppers (the latter a nod to Jewish communities in the Middle East), and sour green tomatoes with dill and celery seeds.
In 2023, the farmer’s market invited him to become a vendor, and he’s been selling there ever since. His repertoire has expanded beyond pickles to include such dishes as chopped liver, homemade sodas, and cured meat and fish sandwiches — all tweaked with the flair of a mad scientist.
Hank Schwartz’s gets its name from fictional characters that Stahl and Gambacourt made up years ago: Hank and Margaret Schwartz, two herrings who escape from a deli and go on adventures around New York City. In this imaginary world, Hank and Margaret hang out with their herring friends, like Charlie Goldberg, a bus driver, and the Crances, a bumbling couple.
A gallivanting, social fish is the perfect mascot for a cook whose relationships and wanderlust drive his cooking.
Take, for example, Stahl’s smoked salmon candy. Though readers in Alaska and the Pacific Northwest might be familiar with the salty-sweet treat, it has not yet taken off in the Northeast. In the Alaskan version, chunks of salmon are brined in brown sugar and salt before being smoked and glazed. Stahl has added dill to his in the past, and the week I tried it, he had rubbed in pastrami spices. The pink chunks were solid and slightly chewy — like firm gumdrops — and redolent of peppercorns, brown sugar and smoke: the type of addictive candy that the children of hipsters might clamor for in a 21st century deli.
‘This is a true story’
Stahl grew up on Staten Island eating sandwiches at both Jewish and Italian delis.
When I asked him how far a dish can veer from Jewish tradition while still being considered “Jewish,” he compared Hank Schwartz’s to the TV show Fargo, which starts with the line “This is a true story.”
Stahl once interviewed the series’ showrunner, Noah Hawley, who told him that in each episode, a single detail is pulled from a true story — for example, a news article about a dramatic car crash.
“In a way, like, I’m doing the same thing,” Stahl said — one Jewish element anchors each dish on his menu; the rest is up for his own interpretation.
During Super Bowl weekend, when the Seattle Seahawks played the New England Patriots, Stahl came up with a sandwich for each team. “The Seattle” consisted of citrus-cured gravlax (a Scandinavian relative of Jewish lox), scallion cream cheese and pickled cucumbers on pumpernickel with a teriyaki glaze, the latter a nod to Seattle’s Japanese community and its role in popularizing teriyaki sauce. “The New England” was Stahl’s take on a lobster roll — swapping in whitefish for treyf.
Stahl now holds a residency two days a week at the Cliff, a cafe in the same Jersey Heights neighborhood he has been plying with smoked fish and meats for the past few years. The pop-up helps him try out running a brick-and-mortar restaurant while he looks for investors and business partners to help him do just that. Surrounded by exposed brick and artwork, he slaps together irreverent sandwich combinations in front of customers. I tried the Schwartzøbrød, a cousin of the everyman Danish brown bread sandwich. Stahl makes his with a butter infused with lime, lemon and orange zest that glides through the heady flavor of cured salmon.
If there’s one element of the Jewish deli that Stahl seeks to maintain, it’s the deli’s status as a community hub. “In these times that we’re living in, people need more comfort. I feel like a Jewish deli is really needed,” he told me, as is “the warmth of a bowl of matzo ball soup. People just find comfort, they find nostalgia.” He recalled with fondness how the week before, the restaurant buzzed with customers enjoying his food and locked in conversation, rarely looking at their phones.
Stahl’s tight-knit community might be the perfect place for Jewish culinary innovation, for the same reasons that Menlo Park and Murray Hill served Edison and the company of Graham Bell. Proximity to New York affords you rare privileges — ethnic diversity and access to the titans of the Jewish-American deli, in Stahl’s case. But so, too, does distance. The sprawling brick buildings and saltbox houses of Jersey City offer cooks a little more room to breathe and try new things.
“Here, it’s less about the luxury” or “pretentiousness,” Stahl said. “It’s more about the care and the presentation of the food, right? They want to just offer the best dishes possible.”
The post Move over Thomas Edison, this deli savant is the Garden State’s newest inventor appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
Czechs Investigate Fire After Reports of Anti-Israel Group Claiming Responsibility
Police officers and firefighters stand in front of a burned production hall at an industrial area in Pardubice, Czech Republic, March 20, 2026. Photo: REUTERS/David W Cerny
Czech investigators are probing an overnight fire at an industrial complex as potentially being a deliberate attack, officials said on Friday, following media reports that a group protesting against Israeli weapons claimed responsibility.
Firefighters said on X that they had responded to a fire at a storage hall in a complex in Pardubice, 120 km (75 miles) east of Prague. No one was injured in the fire, which spread to another building.
Czech news website Aktualne.cz reported that a protest group said it had set fire to a “key manufacturing hub” for Israeli weapons in Pardubice to end its role in the “genocide in Gaza.”
Czech defence firm LPP Holding in a statement on its website said it had confirmed that a fire broke out at one of its facilities on Friday and it was cooperating with authorities.
The company, with a location in the complex, announced plans in 2023 to cooperate with Israeli company Elbit Systems on drone production.
“At this time, we will not speculate on the causes or circumstances of the incident and will await the official conclusions of the investigation,” LPP said.
Police initially said they were investigating whether the fire was intentional and checking public claims of a “concrete group,” without naming it.
They later said investigators with security services were probing the incident under a section of the criminal code dealing with terrorism.
“Based on what we know so far, it is likely the incident may be related to a terrorist attack,” Interior Minister Lubomir Metnar said.