I can remember this day fairly well. I’m standing in front of my brand new, well oiled butcher block table, staring at my two employees. I’d had a throbbing headache for the last four days and was suffering from brain fog. I felt like I was suffering from a hangover but I had stopped drinking over two years before. I remember hangovers well. I was handwriting my sandwich menu one hour before I intended to unlock the doors. I’d been scribbling menu ideas for the last month. It had been four years since I’d written a full menu. I wrote one for charcuterie in late 2020 and never looked at the menu again. Still haven’t to be honest it still has some of the old ingredients that I have to orate the updates to new customers. I was trying to break out of my confidence funk I’d been in for years. My head was about to burst. I had not finalized a single menu and I was opening up that day. It was a Tuesday. I was showing my two employees the procedure for a buffalo cold cut sandwich

“Let’s add some pickled onions, blue cheese, buffalo sauce… mozz.. and pepperoni.” I was sweating profusely we had a giant toaster on the prep table that warmed the deli up by 5°

Barry – “do we have any buffalo sauce?”

Me “fuck!”

“Ok squeeze some BBQ on it, remove the blue, mozz, pepperoni and add fried onions, hot honey mustard seed annnnnd jalapenos.”

Late for the bbq was born, 20 minutes before we opened. As was about 6 more sandwiches I implemented that morning. I noticed I was sweating much more than my two compadres and started to think there might be a little more wrong with me that opening day jitters.

Barry -“ you look bad. Have you been tested for Covid?”

Me- “nope, I’ve never had it before”

Barry of course has a Covid test in his backpack. Barry has everything in his backpack.

The test turned positive in like 12 seconds.

“Well fuck now what?”

We gotta close. I can’t even think straight much less try a grand opening. I had one customer come in, bought a build your own sandwich and then I locked the doors until Saturday. I was still sick. But I had bills to pay. By that time my staff would lose one so it was just me and Barry.

Pretty much still is.

I opened with a poorly written chalkboard menu with 6 sandwiches on it. I opened the doors and put my ass at the counter. I had no counter person my family had a trip planned a while back that just happened to align with the opening of the deli.

I hadn’t worked face to face with a customer since 2012. I had some anxiety to work through. It took a few months. I’m still not the best face to see when you walk in but I do my best. My beard hides my gritting teeth.

It took some time for the deli and I to connect. Probably into 2025. I didn’t want to be there. I was still trying to shake off some old Southern vibes that attached to me like a vice grip.

I had known I was going to open a storefront for some time. After I had moved to Birds in 2021 my mind began to plan. It was a completely different concept at the time. Evening hours, pre order charcuterie boards with a full bar. My concepts revolved around bars. They always have. When I put the bottle down in 2022 I knew I could not operate a full functioning bar sober.

The concept immediately changed to a deli.

In my head as I worked at Birds and then later the meadery I built the deli concept in my head. I never thought about the money aspect. In my mind I’d make it happen regardless of what it took. I will always applaud my hardheadedness for this decision. Money didn’t matter to me. The deli would’ve been built with cardboard first if I had to.

The deli

I never grew up wanting to open a deli. The same could be said for restaurants I suppose until I hit my late 20s.

The deli is attached to my reckoning. If you’re reading one of these for the first time I refer to a four plus years old breakdown of my mental state that I personally analyzed and methodically broke down to work on myself.

To rebuild myself

To regain myself

Rebirth

Four plus years of humility, sobriety, meditation, reevaluation and recalibration.

I remember writing about one of my old employees Matt, who passed from alcoholism. It’s his window box with the Southern Cukture chef coat, chef knife and a Twinkie. He and I bumped foreheads quite a bit over his drinking at work. We didn’t get along that well for the most part but I liked how he treated his mother. Matt like most line cooks walked around with a chip on his shoulder. Gruff, intolerant but extremely talented. When no one was looking he had a soft side. I held onto that soft side of him to remind me that there was more to him than just being a talented drunk.

Our last conversation was about his drinking.

“Matt what’s your ultimate goal in life man. What’s your dream?”

Matt- “to open my own deli”

Me- “you’ll never see that day Matt if you don’t slow down the drinking”. I never saw myself in Matt until he died. He died the very next day in his sleep.

And even then it took another three years to realize it. That I was also Matt. He was a reflection of who I might become. When I left Southern I was on par to meet Matt again much sooner than anticipated.

I tie this conversation in with my deli for important reason.

“Open my own deli”

Subliminal message

My reckoning had about a thousand layers to it. New ones that built upon some old ones. It was first and only reckoning I didnt know how to act. I peeled away quite a bit.

I had forgotten most of our conversation that day. As I was walking around my deli about a year ago that convo popped in my head and I froze. I may have been looking at his box hanging on my deli wall.

“To open my own deli”

It was late afternoon I was closing up shortly. I stopped and cried for a moment. I walked into the bathroom and bawled.

Matt opened this deli with me.

Matt was a reflection of me but only after he passed.

I needed to meet him. As I’ve said before, Matt and I weren’t close. I’m sure he flung some slurs at me every night when he went home because I rode his ass. But I respected his talent and I mourned his demons along side of him.

“To open my own deli”

I opened Matt’s deli

I might as well of called it “Lewie’s” that was his work name I never called him that but everyone else did.

“Fix yourself Matt before it’s too late so you can open up your deli.”

Extremely poor timing.

But

Matt, you passed the fucking baton. I’ve never really talked about this to anyone although it’s been on my mind for sometime.

The deli was born on that day. I just didn’t know it yet.

I became Matt when I left Southern.

In some ways.

When I was fighting the bottle I’d think of Matt and how I watched him slowly die. I’d wake up with my red eyes, bloated cheeks and look in the mirror and see Matt sometimes.

I put his window box in my attic I didn’t need any reminders. The Twinkie had to be replaced from getting cooked up there.

I opened this deli on auto pilot. For three years I was on that auto pilot to create this deli.

I told everyone I was opening up a deli and not one person asked why?

Including myself. I knew why but I didn’t. Yet

Oh the fucking trail markers are singing their ass off right now.

It’s not a deep as I make it out to be. Actually yes it is.

Pay close attention to people that are inserted into your life.

The deli is an extension of my reckoning. I’ve always known this I just needed to acknowledge it, say it aloud.

That’s why it has always felt temporary. I needed a proving ground and I created one. A reckoning side quest. Or maybe it was/is the main one and it took some walking to find it.

2 years man. I thought I’d gone through some things the four years before I opened it.

And I did

The last two have solidified the conversion. It’s weird to see an olds photo of yourself and think “who is that?”

Matt, you sneaky SOB.

I did his eulogy. My only one I’ve ever done. I was meant to and I can’t tell you why I just said that. I don’t do public speaking but I walked right up there with no notes and talked for 20 minutes. Not a dry service industry eye in the house.

Including mine.

I was speaking my own eulogy too.

Man

Ouch

Auto writing is wild man. I came here to tell a story about my deli anniversary and landed here.

That’s enough for today.

Peace and happy birthday Graze.