Deli Done

A piece of my childhood is dying today.
If you grew up in Hollywood (Florida) and you're a jew... you know the Deli Den. If you went there on a Sunday, or rather, were dragged there by your parents, you were BOUND to bump into someone you knew.

The food wasn't good. But it was familiar. Being sick as a kid meant mom would bring home a pint of that matzah ball soup with the really thin noodles. Again, not good, but home.

When I think of the Deli Den, I picture my dad eating there. I can see him eating something disgusting, and offering me a bite. The place was always really loud. It was sprinkled with elderly folks shouting at each other. It was like going to temple, minus all the hebrew and praying and whatnot.

I once met Joe Dimaggio at Deli Den. He was sitting there. This giant of our culture, sipping coffee with his lawyer. The man who had been inside Marilyn Monroe, was also inside Deli Den. I went up to the notoriously aloof Dimaggio and asked for an autograph. He signed it. I still have it in my room, on a Deli Den napkin.

The hot open faced turkey was decent. Again, not particularly good.

That's what I think is so strange about the place. People went there for 40 years, and no one really liked it. Mediocrity was the order of the day, and we accepted it. What it should go to waste?