Miami Beach’s “Jewish-Style” Cafeterias: Like No Others Anywhere Else Except, Possibly, New York City!
By Seth H. Bramson
We—the Bramson family—moved from New York to Miami Beach in 1946 and when you drove “down” in those days there were no four-lane roads for almost the entire distance between the two cities. It was two lanes all the way but—“and, seriously, folks—there was so little traffic much if not most of the way that it was not a problem.
There were, however, no hotels or motels along the route except in the few major cities that we passed through. What there were were “tourist courts” and “cabins” and each and all of those “hostelries” had signs out front which read “Air-Cooled.”
As my dad would recount in later years, it looked inviting. That was, though, until you walked into the room and found out that what “Air-Cooled” meant was that you either opened the window or turned on the fan, ‘cause there waren’t no air-conditioning!”
At any rate, at some point in late August of ’46 we reach our destination, the then-beautiful city of Miami Beach, where the folks rented, for just a few months, an apartment somewhere south of Fifth Street and my earliest memories—seriously, I do have these even though I was only two at the time—was of my dear, late Mom taking me for “porridge” almost every morning at this open-air stand and that went on until we moved to “north Beach,” an apartment at 8035 Harding Avenue.
After about a year and a half there (we went through the 1947 hurricane there in, I think, September of that year) we moved to 840-90th Street on Biscayne Beach, a subdivision of Miami Beach and then, in September, 1950, to the house that my parents purchased at 8035 Cecil Street (I tear up just thinking about it!) on Biscayne Point, and in which we lived for 31 ½ years until Myrna (my late wife of almost 47 years of marriage, and whom I chased for three years until she caught me!) and I bought the house in Miami Shores in late 1981.
And why, you ask, is this relevant to the title of this essay? And the answer is simple: because I grew up eating regularly, from childhood to adulthood, at all but one of the beloved “Jewish-style” cafeterias on Miami Beach and I know you are fainting dead away with angst and anxiety waiting to hear about them and where they were, so, shortness, we will begin the tale.
From south to north on Miami Beach, they were as follows: the furthest south was the Governor, at 12th or 13th and Washington Avenue, right next to the Cinema Theater on the ground floor, with Morris Brothers Department Store on the second floor of much of that building.
Hoffman’s Cafeteria, owned by the Beck family for many years, was on the northeast corner of Espanola Way and Collins Avenue, Espanola, the street between 13th and 14th Streets, again if I remember correctly, built originally, in the 1920s, as “the Spanish Village”.
Next north was the Ambassador Cafeteria, on the west side of Washington Avenue between 16th Street and Lincoln Road with Dubrow’s Cafeteria on Lincoln Road just a few doors east of Washington Avenue. That one—Dubrow’s—was the one that, for whatever reason, I never went to, although it might have been—if I remember correctly—that it was pricier than the other four, perhaps, the reason being, that it was ON Lincoln Road, with the higher priced rents.
Last, but certainly not least, was the fabled (well, actually, they all were, but the Concord for an additional reason, which follows) Concord Cafeteria, on Collins Avenue at—again, if I remember
correctly, either between 19th and 20th Streets or 20th and 21st Streets.
Now—and I know you’re getting hungry!—what was the difference between Miami Beach’s (and, I imagine, New York’s) “Jewish-style” cafeterias and the “other” cafeterias such as Piccadilly, M and M, Biscayne and the rest of the “regular” cafeteria operations?
The answer to that question is two-fold: the “Jewish-style” cafeterias were all open for breakfast, usually beginning at 7:00 AM as well as for lunch and dinner and the food had “tolm” (pronounced “tom”) which is Yiddish for “great taste.” Simply put, the food was at a different taste level: it was not only “Hamish” (pronounced “hay-mish,”—Yiddish for family-oriented or style,” but, and simply put, between the great taste and the family-style atmosphere, those cafeterias were more welcoming and, for the most part, more enjoyable to dine “eat” in than the others.
Dad started taking me to the Ambassador (which, sadly, was the first to close, sometime in the early 1960s, again, if memory serves correctly, and beside my enjoyment of being there with my father I have strong memories of the huge silver coffee dispensers.
You got a cup and filled and re-filled it as many times as you like (Dad would make me “coffee-milk,” about a third coffee, the rest milk) for—no kidding on this—five cents including refills! And since Dad’s sign shop was on Fifth Street between Washington and Collins, we went to the Ambassador and the Governor more-frequently, in those years than the others.
After I finished ninth grade at Nautilus Junior High School at 42nd Street and Michigan Avenue, I went to Miami Beach High, for one year at 1430 Drexel Avenue, one block west of Washington and then, for 11th and 12th grades, to the “new” “Beach High” at 2231 Prairie Avenue, since replaced by the “new, new Beach High” at the same location.
It was needed to mention that because, in 10th grade, I started dating a very sweet 9th grader by the name of Edith “Cookie” Beck, whose parents owned Hoffman’s and for several months had lunch with Edith there, at Hoffman’s.
Regretfully, I made the mistake of asking another girl out after which Edith threw me out of her life, asking me how could I do that when we were “going steady!” I really was crazy about her but I didn’t know we were going steady and she never even gave me the chance to apologize and tell her that I would make it up to her, but that was what kids did then.
Years later, I did go back to Hoffman’s but her family had sold it and then, when I was working at the Fontainebleau as Program Coordinator for the Social Staff and Assistant Director of Entertainment, I saw “Cookie” on the pool deck and asked her out, but apparently she was till angry and again “blew me off,” so, obviously and unhappily, she had never gotten over what had happened years before.
Now, on to the last of the great Miami Beach “Jewish-style” cafeterias, and, indeed, it was the last, no simply because the other four had closed but because some meshuggineh (Yiddish for nut-case) walked-in one day and fire-bombed the place, causing irreparable damage.
I loved the Concord and went regularly and I was—as Jack Paar would say—“and I kid you not,” absolutely devastated.
As a historian, and as a regular at the Ambassador, the Governor and Hoffman’s, losing the last of the great Miami Beach cafeterias was a seriously blow to me, because not only did I love the place, but (and, again, “I kid you not”) I would regularly take dates there for lunch or dinner. It was a heart -breaking loss.
OK, the food: breakfast at all of them was great not just with ham and bacon and eggs and waffles and pancakes but with lox and bagels and chubs (small whitefish), gefilte fish and herring. Lunch was not just “the usual” that you could get at “the other” cafeterias but the sandwiches included corned beef and pastrami and the tuna salad and chicken salad sandwiches were larger and better than at almost any place else.
Dinner, of course, was also terrific and the cafeterias are covered and included in a wonderful book, published by Arcadia and The History Press of Charleston titled “Lost Restaurants of Miami” and for any great fresser (eater; diner) or anybody who misses the restaurants and cafeterias of Greater Miami’s past, this is your bible.
Today, yes, we have buffets, Japanese, Golden Corral and a few others, and, really, they are not bad at all, but, “and seriously, folks,” nothing compare to the long lost and sadly lamented lost Jewish-style cafeterias of Miami Beach.
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