What Am I, Chopped Liver?

For me, so much has changed in my life in the last few years.  I think this is true for so many of us even just in the last year, with the pandemic.  It's changed everything in just the space of a year, with some of us impacted more than others, but all of us impacted.

Today, I went to Jo-El's Kosher Deli.  As far as I know, they are still the only kosher deli in all of St. Petersburg, Florida (and possibly all of Pinellas County).  There is a much smaller Jewish population here in Florida than in the Washington, DC burbs where I grew up, and certainly than in NYC, where my mom hailed from.  Jo-El's really serves a critical need in this community, especially for observant Jews (the term used for Jews who try to follow all the laws/commandments of the Torah--there are 613!--strictly), as it is very important to them to keep kosher.  Everything at Jo-El's is kosher, so this is a vital resource for the Orthodox and Conservative Jewish population as, like I said, it is the only kosher deli and store in this entire area.  Beyond that, though, for all Jewish people in this area, and even just for those with Jewish heritage/roots, Jo-El's is a place to go to feel less "homesick" for all of the above.

I'm Unitarian Universalist and Jewish (it's complicated--but really not:  it's only complicated to anyone who doesn't want to listen to my personal roots/history and understand; it isn't complicated at all to me anymore, though it used to feel that way.  But now I embrace the complexity and am grateful that nothing in the two conflict, they only complement each other and make me a deeper, better, more interesting person--or so I hope 🙂).  Anyway, like I said, when I go to Jo-El's, which I have not done in years due to I was always at work when they are open on weekdays, and never seemed to make it over there on my busy Sunday day off, I instantly feel less homesick for my Jewish people, culture and FOOD (<--last but not least *lol*).

A friend of mine has been rhapsodizing of late about this wonderful chopped liver he discovered, and the first time he did so, I interrupted with "Was it from Jo-El's?!"  Indeed it was, which I somehow knew the minute he started rhapsodizing.  Ever since he called it to mind, I've been pining for some classic, proper, wonderful, delectable chopped liver from Jo-El's.  So, even though I've been jobless since September (zero income, as I resigned, so I didn't even apply for unemployment), and I'm super worried about money, I realized that sometimes doing something wonderful for yourself is every bit as important and necessary as paying your mortgage, electric bill, etc.  And I further realized that half a pound of chopped liver (and half a pound of whitefish salad!!!) was not going to be the difference between remaining okay or financial ruin.  So I decided to take a break from all my fretting and adulting and job hunting, and drive over to Jo-El's, with, as it turns out perfectly, the Beach Boys blasting on my cell phone.

Jo-El's is kind of off the beaten path, just a bit (the beaten path is only a block away, yet it seems farther, once you turn onto the little road where Jo-El's is).  It's kind of on a weird little road, on which you think "this is a weird little road".  Your first time going there, you further think "this can't be right".  But once you are a seasoned Jo-El goer toer, you know it is right.  Then, when you get to the building, you further think "Is that it?  That can't be it."  But it is.  The whole location adds to the "hidden gem" effect and impact.

Anyway:  I didn't realize how much I not only needed some CHOPPED LIVER (that part I realized!!!), but how much I needed to go somewhere that has been there longer than I've been in St. Pete (and I've been here 27 years now).  Before the pandemic.  Before all the stuff that I've been through in the last four years.  Before all that our country has been through in that same time.  Before, before, before:  there was Jo-El's.  And I didn't realize how hard it would hit me (in a good way), when I pulled into the little parking lot, and laid eyes on the building that doesn't seem like it could be a kosher deli and store, yet I know it is, and especially when I walked inside and saw Ellen, one of the owners, who was there, just where she was last time I was in the store:  before, before, before, and when I was greeted with a bellowing "Hello!" from all the way behind the deli counter (how did the young guy who bellowed that out know immediately that's where I was headed?), that I so, so, SO needed SOMETHING to be "the same".  The same as it was the last time I was there, before any of the last, surreal yet so real, four years happened.

Ellen was at the cash register, the chopped liver and whitefish were in the deli case, just waiting for me to walk in.  There were little signs and symbols about proudly exclaiming support for Israel, which I appreciate, as so many are so down on Israel, and don't really understand the history, complexity and importance of this tiny country.  It was nice to be somewhere where people do know, and do get it, and do support it.  It was nice to be with my people, just for a fleeting minute.  I wanted to buy a cap that had "Oy Vey" embroidered on it, but it's one thing to get the importance of treating yourself to a little chopped liver, and another to blow ten bucks on a cap you don't need and that would look terrible on you, so I decided, when I get a job, I'll come back for that cap.  And more.

For today, though, it meant a surprising amount to me, that little, seemingly ordinary errand to Jo-El's for some much-pined for chopped liver.  I got so much more than chopped liver (and whitefish salad--let's not forget the whitefish salad).  I got a little fix, a little infusion, of being around my people.  And a little reminder that some important things have somehow survived the last four years.  And so have I.

Thank you, Jo-El's.

Video about Jo-El's