The State of the Los Angeles Jewish Deli

Canter’s Deli, an LA icon, has had the same Fairfax location since opening in 1953. (Lea Zaharoni / News Road)

Delis once defined the American Jewish experience, but in recent years, they’ve declined. What does the future hold for these once thriving institutions? 

Near Beverly and Fairfax in West Hollywood, an orange building, wider than it is long, stands. Its retro marquee reads, 

OPEN ALL NIGHT

Canter’s

Restaurant

Bakery

Delicatessen

It holds the energy of the entire intersection on its back, with its old school sign stretching a whole story above its roof. Canter’s existed on Fairfax as a symbol of LA’s history, unchallenged. Until a Supreme store moved in next door. 

Since our ancestors immigrated to North America in the 20th century, Ashkenazi Jews have treasured a sacred combination of Eastern European Jewish delicacies and uniquely American diner culture: the Jewish deli. From coast to coast, the deli is a fundamental part of American Jewish life. But, as any Jew older than fifteen has noticed, the deli is dying. 

When Eastern European Jews began immigrating to the United States by the thousands at the turn of the 20th century to flee persecution, they found delicatessens established by German immigrants. With similar styles of meat preparation — smoking, pickling, pulling, etc. — Jews began to carve out their own niche. By the 1930s, New York City alone was home to over 1,500 kosher style Jewish delis. Today, around two dozen remain. 

Delis of yesteryear were homes to coteries of Jews, young and old. My very own grandmother Suzanne Zaharoni remembers the community surrounding Factor’s Famous Deli in the late 60’s when she worked as a waitress there. “It was a Jewish community,” she said. “Every morning, 7 o’clock brought the crowd of old Jews with their regular orders. Later in the day, their children and grandchildren came in for lunch.” This image is perfectly in line with the reputation of the old school Jewish deli — old Jews kvetching over lox and bagels, children and grandchildren running between vinyl booths, waitresses calling customers by name and asking questions only close friends would think to ask — a happy chaos. 

The Nosh of Beverly Hills, est. 1975, proclaims a signature combination of “deep knowledge of New York deli culture and cuisine with a special SoCal twist.” (Lea Zaharoni / News Road)

But, eventually, these children and grandchildren grew up. They had never been taught these classic recipes like Romanian steak or cholent. Instead, their parents and grandparents simply took them to the deli, where they ordered the appealing pastrami sandwich instead of the traditional gefilte fish. Baby boomers, Generation Xers and millennials started to lose their parents, and a gaping hole was left where their potent culture once was. All that remained was an Americanized version of Ashkenazi culture, and even that was dwindling what with the gentrification of traditionally Yiddish areas, an increasingly cutthroat restaurant industry, and the pressure to modernize for a divergent youth. 

Though many of the most traditional aspects of Eastern European culture have gone from the public consciousness, there is great merit to be found in what did stand the test of time. Canter’s Deli has been on Fairfax since 1953, and is kept alive today by founder Ben Canter’s grandchildren and great-grandchildren. “When you walk in, you feel like you’re in a time warp,” says Jacqueline Canter, current co-owner. Indeed, the decor of Canter’s hasn’t changed since it moved into its current lot. Its 1950s ambiance has survived to such an extent that it did not need to be changed for an episode of Mad Men to be filmed within its walls. The number one priority of Canter’s, Jacqueline says, is keeping everything the same. “When someone comes to a deli, they’re looking for comfort. We want to provide our customers, young and old, with that feeling of home.”

But for other delis without such iconic status as Canter’s or Factor’s, change has been necessary. Unlike the classics Izzy’s in Santa Monica or Nate n’ Al’s in Beverly Hills, delis which maintain a War-and-Peace-esque menu and darker decor in keeping with old school fashion, newcomer Wexler’s has restricted its culinary offerings to the sole essentials and adopted a sleeker, more modern look. But is there a happy medium? Ron Magnin, current co-owner of the Nosh of Beverly Hills, has implemented his version of it, and seen great success.

“What people want from a deli has changed. We want to give our customers the same deli experience, but served on a different plate.” One of the Nosh’s most popular items is the Smoked Salmon Stack: two poached eggs served atop two latkes with sour cream, lox, and dill. The bare bones essentials like latkes and lox, embellished with breakfast classics like poached eggs and the concept of a “stack”. Innovation, but with respect for tradition. 

Another phenomenon witnessed by the Nosh, and most delis, is the increasing diversification of LA. At first glance, this may seem like a detriment to delis exemplifying a very specific Jewish experience, but Magnin testifies the opposite. “Jewish food is in our blood, but there’s not a person alive who doesn’t like a pastrami sandwich.” Jacqueline agrees. “It’s certainly a different crowd than, say, 30 years ago, but we’re very popular with the international

community and students from Fairfax High.” Following the clientele’s lead, huevos rancheros has become a common fixture of a deli menu, as has shakshuka, a traditional Mediterranean dish. “Delis are a very American creation,” Magnin says, but that doesn’t mean that they can’t follow the flow of diversification within their menus. 

Factor’s Famous Deli on Pico and Beverly, a hallmark of Los Angeles Jewish culture. (Lea Zaharoni / News Road)

It’s true that some delis either couldn’t or chose not to follow the times, and they suffered the consequences. Jerry’s Famous Deli recently closed after 42 years of operation to cries of despair from the LA Jewish community. But icons like Canter’s will do everything in their power to remain. “People often try to buy Canter’s. Michael Jackson once tried to buy it, and we get many offers from property managers, but it’s not for sale,” Jacqueline says. In fact, she has invested particular effort into revitalizing the community surrounding Canter’s. In the 90s, the Los Angeles Neighborhood Initiative (LANI) gave a small grant to reinvigorate a deteriorating Fairfax. Business owners like Jacqueline were able to produce medians, crosswalks, and nighttime lighting, leading to a renewed interest in the once-forgotten region.

It was this revitalization, she says, that brought youth culture back to Fairfax in the form of ever-hip dispensaries and trendy stores like Dolls Kill. Though Canter’s never needed any help with getting people through the door, this gentrification that victimized other institutions actually ended up helping Canter’s by bringing a completely new clientele to the iconic deli. In this way, the Supreme store next door is much more welcome than one might assume. The kids queued down the block for new designer gear need somewhere to get lunch, of course. 

So, for Angeleno Jews scared for their favorite delis, no need to worry. LA icons that define home for so many of us will always be around, and both Jacqueline and Magnin assure the eternal presence of matzo ball soup and pastrami on the menu. Times change, neighborhoods change, menus change, and some delis can’t keep up. But those classic dishes and tight knit communities will never completely disappear. Jews and gentiles alike will always have a home in those vinyl booths. Jacqueline has seen just about everything in Los Angeles change, but there’s one thing she’s sure of. “We’ve been here 100 years and we’d like to stay for another 100 years. Whatever that takes, we’ll do it.”