CHEW WELL AND HURRY NOT

"It is many years since I left Frarnpo4 but as soon as I shut any eyes I am there again."

Gimpel

There are threads that bind the Jews. We are a people of pogroms and
persecutions, of displacement and Diaspora. And we are bound by threads of
faith and place.

We are drawn as a people to a common home, to Israel. And we are
drawn as individuals to our personal home, to the Yanev's and Bilgoray's and
Zamoshoh's of Isaac Bashevis Singer.

My Frampol is New York City . Although I have settled now quite
comfortably in West Bloomfield, surrounded by family, friends, and synagogue,
there are times when I miss my Manhattan. I miss the little things: the bustle
of crowds, the broad brimmed Hasidim, the serenity of the Yeshiva, and the
Springtime of Central Park.

But it is, perhaps, the food I miss most of all. The matzo ball soup and
piled pastrami of Katz's, the blintzes and chopped liver of Sarge's. And the
sense of family, kindled by Willy and Abe Katz, that enriches the food and the
soul at their eateries.

However, the glow of a West Bloomfield restaurant,
George's Honey Tree, has lately dimmed this nostalgia. The bread is fresh
baked and crusted by the oven. The soups are homemade and rich of stock.
The Reubens are majestic; the salads, colorful gardens resting on fields of
green. And every offering is measured in plenty. I have found comfort again
at the hearth of a family restaurant and its kind founder, for George, just as
Willy and Abe Katz, is a true mensch.

Yes, I remember well my Manhattan and my favorite New York
Delis, but I am happy now in my new home, George's Honey Tree in West
Bloomfield. So come by my table. We'll drink some tea, and talk of the Torah,
and I'll tell you the tale of the Rabbi and the Italian barber.

L'chaiym,

Neil Klugman

24

April 12 a 2007