Stories Of London

-oOo-

When I was a child, parts of my area of the East End were like a magical land. Streets such as Brick Lane and Wentworth Street were veritable Aladdin’s Caves. In those days, these streets were inhabited mostly by Jews and were lined with what seemed to be an endless number of food shops each filled with the most succulent delicacies. My mouth waters at the thought! I remember at the corner of Bethnal Green Road and Brick Lane there was once a wonderful bakery, where the best Bagels were baked on the premises.

I can still recall the most wonderful aroma that filled the air when one got close to the shop. Whenever we went Down the Lane, as going to Brick Lane, Petticoat Lane or Club Row was collectively called, we always made a visit to this bakery. Sadly, although the building is still there and with its original layout maintained, it no longer functions as a bakery. The building, which was originally constructed by The Huguenots who were weavers, is of architectural interest due to the extremely large windows on the upper floors. Their presence allowed the weavers to extend their workday by taking full advantage of natural light for an increased time prior to the installation of electricity.

Bottom Left: The Bagel Shop

Right: Bagel with a Schmear (i.e., Cream Cheese)

I have a soft spot for this shop since I tasted my first bagel there. It was a freshly baked sesame seed succulent bagel with a crisp dark brown outer crust. On those Sunday mornings, I always enjoyed walking up the Bethnal Green Road to this shop since as we drew close to it my nostrils became teased and tantalised by the perfume of the baking breads. The shop was always filled with customers – the sign of a good shop. I was amazed how everyone seemed to be served in order despite there being no number system in place. The shop was very noisy thanks not to the clientele, but rather from the demands of the sales staff who were forever calling out orders to the baker out back and from their colourful greetings to the customers.

-oOo-

Naturally, my mother was well known to everyone that worked in the shop and always received a hearty greeting especially from the manageress whenever she came to the shop. I too was greeted with great warmth. My father generally waited outside so that he could enjoy a smoke. Once my presence was noticed by the manageress, she would stop her sale immediately and raise her hands to the air while commenting on how much the little man has grown! Her remark was always punctuated with a loud OY! Naturally, the other customers turned to look at me and those that knew me smiled and agreed. It was not unheard of for the manageress to yell for her husband, the baker, to leave what he was doing and to come out immediately from the bake house to see me and give his view on my current stature. Her husband, amidst grumbles and complaints about being dragged away from his work, nonetheless obeyed her command and made his way from outback. Grumbling he may have been, but once he saw my mother and I, his complaints ceased and he broke into a wide smile and agreed with his wife on the state of my health and stature. In return, I would beam at them both and I have to confess that I was never embarrassed by their attention – I was a natural performer as a child – and perhaps I have not changed too much over the years!

Bakers

I really liked this couple and enjoyed their kindness to us. I loved the way they talked and how they looked. They were both short and plump and had large double chins that shook whenever they laughed, which was often. It was obvious that this jolly couple enjoyed their food, as did my mother and I! My father was not a good eater and was picky about what he would and would not eat. I never could understand such behaviour since I ate heartily and practically everything placed before me. The baker and his wife always stopped to talk and laugh with my mother and did so until they realised that their customers had been waiting patiently to be served and that they needed to get back to their business.

Everyone that worked in the shop was dressed in spotless starched wrap-around white coats that were held in place by a white cloth belt tied at the back. This, often with a long white apron, was the custom for people in the food business in those days. The manageress was distinguished from her associates by the wearing of an old-fashioned Cameo Brooch pinned to one of her lapels.

She always wore a lace blouse under her coat that seemed to have mounds of ruffles that cascaded down over her ample bosom. Although she could not be described as beautiful, even I at my young age could see that she was in fact a handsome woman with a huge personality and who, despite her height, was not to be messed with and who was certainly nobody’s fool!

My mother was a highly opinionated person and mirrored this lady in personality and behaviour – they could have been sisters! She believed that this shop produced the best bagels in the area and so never thought to purchase any from any other baker despite their shops being closer to where we lived.

-oOo-

In those days, bagels were smaller than those of today and there was less variety. In fact, I cannot remember any other type than sesame seed. If I were lucky during our visit, one of the helpers from outback would come into the shop carrying a large tray of freshly baked bagels high above his head. As he wound his way through the shop, he brought with him an intoxicating perfume in his wake. There was never a dry mouth in the shop! He proceeded to the huge basket, which was kept outside the shop close to the door and tipped them in it. The added bagels bounced and danced in the basket until coming to rest. I wonder what today’s Department of Health would think of this custom! Passing shoppers, most certainly overcome by the aroma of freshly baked bread now swooped on the basket and grabbed the number of bagels that they quickly decided that they wanted and transferred them into a brown paper bag from the batch hanging from a nail above the basket. Again, I wonder what the Department of Health would think of this method of choosing your bagels! These customers now joined the queue in the shop to pay. In those days, folks were trusted to be honest.

-oOo-

The shop did not only sell bagels, but a variety of other delicious breads and cakes. My favourite bread was Challah, the twisty loaf, as I used to call it. This was bought on Friday in preparation for Shabbos, the Sabbath.

When it came time for my mother to pay for her purchases, the manageress always gave me an additional little cake. I was given this prize simply for being such a good boy! I was always very grateful and thanked her profusely for the delicious present. This would cause her to tell everyone within earshot that I was such a little gentleman and how his mother must be so proud of him! I would smile and perhaps turn a light shade of red and lower my eyes. The manageress often told my mother that it was a pity that her girls were grown, as she would have loved to have me as a son-in-law! At this, she would sigh and smile at me again. People were great matchmakers in those days. I was always sure to wave to her from the doorway as we left the shop.

Once we got outside, my mother would suggest that I save the treasured cake for later. Naturally, such a suggestion was not on! I wanted to gobble it up there and then, but after some discussion, I realised that it might be wise to consider my options. Experience had taught me that there were going to be other delicious delicacies coming my way once we made our way Down the Lane. And experience had also taught me that it would be best if such delicacies were eaten before my cake. And so, my precious cake was passed to my mother who wrapped it carefully in a piece of greaseproof paper and placed it safely in her shopping bag. I have to smile now, as I would always tell her to be careful not to crush my cake and I would be certain to check throughout our visit down the lane to ensure that it had not been spoiled in any way. After all, this was a treasure to be thought about and savoured before finally being eaten and enjoyed.

-oOo-

National Flag of Israel consisting of a White Field bearing two Horizontal Blue Stripes and a Central Shield of David (Hebrew: Magen David), which is also known as the Star of David

There were numerous shops Down the Lane that I found fascinating. There were many butchers’ shops where the windows were filled with wondrous cuts of meats and a huge variety of sausages and other morsels to tempt the taste buds. A deep blue Star of David together with writing beneath appeared prominently on each shop window. These signs informed patrons that only products prepared in strict compliance with the dietary laws of Judaism and under the strict auspices of a Rabbi were for sale. 

Again my mother had a favourite shop where she bought meat and chicken. My mother was practically raised by an old Jewish couple as a child and young woman. Although she was not Jewish, she learned how to keep a Kosher Home (see later the Tale: Bubbe & Zayde), most of which she maintained throughout her adult life and which was especially apparent when it came to food and its cooking.

However, it was the shops known as Delicatessens that were the real gems in the crown of the shops of the area. Although I was unaware of the name for these shops, I knew them well. These were wondrous emporia where herrings and long ribbons of onions sat soaking in brine suitably peppered with an assortment of berries and herbs. The tantalising delicacies were stored in squat little wooden barrels where they fermented in this intoxicating broth while waiting for sale. These shops were laden with bottles and packets of a huge variety of products that gave off the most delicious and tempting perfumes that caused my head to reel. If I found the sight and smell of these shops to be appealing, the taste of the fish and others delicacies found here defied description and would send this taster into a state of joy.

-oOo-

My mother only made an occasional purchase in these shops since we had a wonderful Delicatessen close to where we lived and she was loyal to the proprietress.

Our Pie ‘n’ Mash Shop was on Cambridge Heath Road just a few yards from the junction known as the Mile End Gate. Just across the road from our shop once stood my favourite Delicatessen ever! I remember that my mother would send me across the road on a Sunday afternoon to this shop where I went to obtain our treat. I loved going to this shop as I liked to see Mrs. or rather Madame Schvitz.

By this time, my father was in bed, as he had gone earlier to the Pub across the road, The White Hart, and drank too much. He always did this on Sundays. Once he returned home, he was never able to eat his lunch, which my mother had spent a long time preparing.  Still neither my mother nor I really cared too much, as we wanted him to go up to bed so that we could enjoy our food and then sit down and listen to the wonderful programmes that were on Radio 2, which known as The Light Programme in those days.

Madame Schvitz was a wonderful old and fragile Jewish lady that I liked very much. She sat on a rocking chair in the shop, which was managed by one of her son and his wife. On Sunday, she generally ran the shop.

-oOo-

zzzzz

zzzzz

zzzzz

zzzzz

zzzzz

zzzzz