The Schmaltz Strikes Back: Deli’s Future Returns to Its Roots

In the spring of 2008, shortly after I’d finished most of the writing and editing of this book, I received a brief email via savethedeli.com from a guy named Zane Caplan. He stated his intention to cure his own smoked meat and sell it in Toronto, and though his budget was lean, he boasted that deli was “in his blood”. To be honest, I kind of shrugged. I got emails like this all the time and never heard from the majority of these dreamers again. My roommate at the time, Adam Caplan, looked over my shoulder and remarked, “I think that guy’s my cousin.”

If there was ever an unlikely savior for deli in my hometown, Zane Caplan was it. He grew up in a political dynasty, surrounded by well-known parents and siblings who held prominent posts in Canadian government. Zane fell into that life, running campaigns and working in related businesses, until a difficult divorce sent him across the world on a bout of soul searching. He lived for a number of years in India, working in and running small restaurants for travelers. Cooking was his passion, and when he returned to Toronto after a few years abroad, he began catering to film sets and managing a pizzeria.

Deli held a special place in Zane’s heart. He had grown up eating at Switzer’s with his grandfather, who was in the garment business, and later held court at Moe Pancer’s, Yitz’s, Coleman’s, and other stalwarts of the Toronto deli scene. Inspired by his frequent road trips to Montreal for Schwartz’s smoked meat, Zane began tinkering around in his home kitchen, trying to replicate a decent alternative so he wouldn’t have to drive five hours each time he wanted a sandwich. He dry cured raw briskets with pickling salt and a dozen heady spices (including mustard seed, fennel, and Kashmiri chili powder he’d procured in Little India) for two weeks, then smoked them over hickory in his backyard. He served it to friends. They loved it. “You should open a deli,” a few said.