Wilensky’s has reason to celebrate
The legend of this landmark Mile End deli keeps growing, but little else has changed
Admittedly, it’s an odd number. Then again, precious few eateries in this city — let alone anywhere else — can boast of celebrating an 85th birthday, particularly when it has been owned and run by the same family since Day 1.
Even odder is that this establishment has existed by serving not some high-end grub but something simply called The Special, a highly addictive, yet cholesterol-laden, amalgam of fried salami and bologna served with a dab of mustard on an unassuming roll.
There’s no question, however, that Wilensky’s Light Lunch — and we’ll let the dietitians quibble on just how light this lunch is — is a city landmark. Tourists come by in droves to check out the retro Mile End eatery. It will never make it into the tony pages of Architectural Digest, but it was featured in galloping gastronome Anthony Bourdain’s TV adventure in Montreal. Part of the draw is The Special, part is that Mordecai Richler immortalized the place in The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz, and part is the unaffected charm of the Wilensky family and staff, who treat all patrons equally — that is, without any fuss or hugs.
But there will be joy in the air on Monday, from 11 a.m. to 2 p.m., when the family celebrates the deli’s 85th birthday. Sun Youth will be on hand to collect non-perishable items, and those who donate will be eligible for such prizes as a must-have Wilensky T-shirt, as well as posters and free lunches. And the gang will break tradition by actually having dessert on-site, serving cake to customers.
In 1932, Moe Wilensky opened shop in another edifice on Fairmount Avenue as a restocum-cigar-emporium-cumbarbershop, with Moe’s dad Harry doing trims in the backroom. In 1952, Moe moved to the current location and ceased with the scissors and the stogies to focus solely on the Specials and sodas, made from scratch with syrups.
Nothing has changed here since. Arborite and hospitalgreen paint still predominate. And there is room for only nine customers on the counter stools. There are no tables, so prepare to stand a little during peak hours. Oh yeah, there are no plates or silverware, either; you make do with a napkin and your fingers.
The faces behind the counter remain pretty much the same, too. Family matriarch Ruth Wilensky, Moe’s 97-year-old widow, ceased barking out orders five years ago, but she will be on hand Monday. Now running the resto is her daughter Sharon — a vegetarian with a fondness for decidedly non-veg karnatzels — who smiles most in the family. Ruth’s son Asher, famed for his cold, blank stare and dry wit, is still hanging in. Asher’s daughter Alisa, a third-generation Wilensky, started behind the counter four years ago. Rounding out the team are longtime countermen Scott Druzin and Paul Scheffer.
Newcomers, consider yourselves warned: The Wilenskys and staff ain’t shmoozers. If you want small talk and pleasantries, you’d best go to one of those chichi spots with cutlery. This is the drill: Customers come in, place their orders, are served within the minute, devour their Specials within minutes, and are out the door about 10 minutes later.
The formula has worked well. Wilensky’s caters to cops, politicos, CEOs, celebs, artists (both of the legit and other variety), actors (Owen Wilson, Aziz Ansari, Bruce Willis, among others), tourists and locals from all cultural fronts. This place plays no favourites. Those who have double-parked their Caddies outside wait for counter stools just like the working stiffs who have made the journey on bike or foot.
And just in case customers have the audacity to want to modify their order, the nononsense family and staff will point to this sweet little poem hanging over the counter: “When ordering a Special, you should know a thing or two: It is always served with mustard. It is never cut in two. Don’t ask us why. Just understand that this is nothing new. This is the way that it’s been done since 1932.”
“Only two things ever change around here: The prices get a little higher and the staff gets a little older,” Sharon says. “Actually, that’s not entirely true. We’re now open Saturday, but never on Sunday. And about 35 years ago, we instituted one major change. Because of the demand, we gave customers the option of having a slice of Swiss cheese on their Specials. It went over well, too.
“The place continues to thrive, because we’re now part of many city food tours and because we offer what many consider to be solid comfort food.”
Comfort food here means mostly meat. Sure, there are cheese and egg sandwiches on the menu board, but few come here for that. And there are no vegetables lurking — unless pickles count.
On the Wall of Fame are customers who go back almost to the beginning, including one gent who has lived to tell of his chomping on a Special in 1932.
George Dedes, at the counter with his wife, has been coming regularly for only 40 years. “The Special is one of a kind,” says Dedes, who toils in the chicken trade. “The taste is really special, almost addictive.”
As for the prices, the 12-cent Special of 1932 will now set back diners $4.09. The Special with cheese costs $4.53. A majority of customers will feast on two Specials for their “light” lunch.
Asher once showed some rare emotion when one hungry fellow actually knocked back 10 Specials in one sitting.
“He even had it with drinks and pickles, too. Now that was almost impressive,” Asher deadpans. “And I don’t impress easily.”
We know — and we wouldn’t have it any other way.