Let them eat appetizer cake: A tribute to Flakowitz of Boynton
Come for the complimentary cake, stay for the quintessential Jewish eating experience.
Welcome to It’s A Shanda, one Northeastern Jew’s quest to find a decent bagel in Seattle (and beyond). Along with free bagel reviews every Sunday, we also offer bonus posts (like this one) each week. If you’re already subscribed, I hope you’ll consider upgrading to a paid subscription! Thank you for reading.
You don’t even have to walk inside Flakowitz of Boynton before the authentically Jewish experiences begin.
Arriving at the iconic deli at 10:30 a.m. on a Saturday, there’s an understanding that you aren’t going to walk right in and sit down. The line to be seated reaches the front door. As I opened that door, an older (presumably) Jewish woman walked through. In quick succession, she:
Marveled at my instinct to perform this basic task.
Let me know that her son does it as well.
Peppered my girlfriend with questions about our relationship status.
Made it clear that, based on my ability to hold a door, I was of the high character that one should look for in a life partner.
This was my girlfriend’s first foray into Flakowitz and I couldn’t think of a more apt way for this experience to begin. And we hadn’t even been served the appetizer cake yet.
But let’s back up. The last time I visited Boynton Beach, Florida, it was for a funeral. I’m now here for a wedding. Let it never be said that Florida is just for your aging Jewish relatives. The circle of life is strong here, though it still eats dinner before 5:30 p.m.
Aside from the places I’ve lived, I don’t think I’ve visited anywhere on Earth more than Boynton Beach. My grandparents moved here from Queens around 1990 when I was 12 and weekend trips and summer vacation stops became regular occurrences for the better part of my childhood. I knew the Sun Valley East 55+ community like the back of my hand. The clubhouse pool was my second home every time I stayed there. I dominated my cousins on the shuffleboard court. I devoured many a John Grisham novel while lounging under that Florida sun (even at a young age, I reveled in stories about the seedy underbelly of the Memphis legal community).
Bagels were a quintessential part of the Boynton Beach experience as well. I can’t imagine there was a morning at my grandparents’ home they weren’t present. And if not, we went out for breakfast at one of the many delis catering to the crowds of New Yorkers who flocked here.
That included Flakowitz, a Boynton Beach institution that offered everything you’d expect and want from a Jewish delicatessen. Want to gorge yourself on a pastrami on rye? They’ve got you. Need a half-pound of chopped liver and some belly lox? No problem. Just want a black & white cookie and a knish to go? You got it. Craving some kasha varnishkes? You know what to do.
It embodied the prototypical Jewish deli experience in many other ways. Always crowded, especially on a weekend morning, you stood in line amongst other complaining Jews who wondered aloud what was taking so long. The servers were brusque but efficient. After your meal, you walked over to the bakery and took a ticket, eying up which cookies you wanted while waiting for your number to be called. And when your number was called, you ordered directly and fast, because you were surrounded by a dozen agitated retired Jews who had better things to do.*
*They did not, in fact, have better things to do.
“It’s not an easy crowd, I’m not going to lie to you. Maybe it’s a Northeastern thing,” Flakowitz co-owner Robert Pirozzi told the Sun-Sentinel in 2014. “They know what they want, they want it now and it better be great or you are going to hear about it. If you are looking for a nice, romantic, peaceful place, Flakowitz is not the way to go.”
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to It's a Shanda to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.