Taste of New York : Store Flies In East Coast Knishes to Whet West Coast Appetites

Back in the ‘30s, according to Brooklyn folklore, a talented cook stuffed a better knish, and the East Coast deli crowd beat a path to her store in Brighton Beach--”Mrs. Stahl’s Knishes.”

More than a half-century later, two accountants from Brooklyn, assisted by freezers, microwave ovens and jet planes, have brought the stuffed pastries to the West Coast. Jesse Greenspan and Jan Krauss, both 44, opened Stahl’s Knishes at 11819 Wilshire Blvd. in West Los Angeles earlier this year. They say their knishes are a big hit with fellow transplanted New Yorkers nostalgic for a taste of home.

A lifelong Stahl’s fan, Greenspan recalls, “My mother bought knishes directly from Mrs. Stahl herself. Anyone who grew up in that era in Brooklyn knew her store under the El, across the street from the Forty Thieves candy store and the Brighton Beach Baths.

“For years I wanted to get the rights to sell here,” Greenspan added, “and finally we’ve worked it out with the current owner to ship frozen raw knishes that we bake right in our store.”

According to Greenspan, New York deli mavens check first for authenticity, eyeballing and sniffing the product, then smile and go for a knish kibitz, regaling the patient counter help with Mrs. Stahl’s reminiscences.

Greenspan says: “One guy said, ‘It’s great you’re here. Now I can tell my mother she should only bring Chinese food out from back East.’ But Californians have been pretty funny. They just stare and ask what it is, and when I give them a sample they’re like little kids, tasting it very carefully. Then they say, ‘Hey, this isn’t bad.’ ”

The knish is hardly new to Los Angeles. Other bakers, however, do not go to the lengths of Greenspan and Krauss to maintain such a distinctive New York connection.

Catering to sentimental New Yorkers is one thing, but even on the Westside that’s a limited market. Will Stahl’s knishes catch on with real Californians? After all, in lesser hands this nosh has long had an image problem--a reputation for being fattening and on the soggy side.

Not Mrs. Stahl’s, says Greenspan, who proudly points out that these knishes are very ‘90s--baked instead of fried, vegetarian, made with natural ingredients and no cholesterol, weighing in at about 150 to 280 calories each.

Stahl’s usually stocks about 15 flavors, including the traditional potato, barley and kasha, but also such exotica as sweet potato and blueberry cheese. And soon, this being Southern California, customers will be able to choose salsa or applesauce along with the venerable brown mustard topping.

Although the Westside is estimated to be home to about 45,000 ex-New Yorkers, according to the local New York Alumni Assn., Greenspan and Krauss are looking beyond the walk-in knish nibbler, hoping to attract wholesale trade. They say that lately their cocktail-sized versions are becoming popular at catered parties and picnics.

At a large reunion staged recently by the alumni association at Beverly Hills High School, about 2,000 New York emigres gathered to schmooze, play stickball and line up for hot dogs, corned beef on rye, pretzels, soda, and of course, Mrs. Stahl’s knishes.

Lines were long and impatient at the Stahl’s concession. A gray-bearded man pushed away from the counter, knish in hand, muttering, “I was a young man when I got on this line.” A woman complained, “They got 2,000 people here? They should have brought 2,000 knishes.”

Among the crowd gathered at the condiment stand for the requisite mustard blob, knish opinions were lively, diverse and freely voiced. Most thought the Stahl’s knishes were authentic, but a few were positive that they were inferior imitations. A number of samplers voted the food “delicious,” but confessed that they had never eaten a Stahl’s knish before, saying that they were from Queens or the Bronx.

“I was weaned on Stahl’s knishes,” said Geri Weber, who grew up a few blocks from the store in Brighton Beach, “and these are just like home.”

Harry Portman remembered the oceanside flavor that enhanced the original product and said, jokingly, “The ambience has to be right. I mean, a Beverly Hills knish?”

Paul Jarrett got right to the point. “Original flavor?” he said. “Who can remember after 48 years? They’re cold, that’s all I know.”

In short order, Krauss and Greenspan sold out their stock of 1,000. When the last customer of the day made it to the counter he was told that only cherry cheese was left.

“Cherry cheese!” he snorted. “That’s not a knish.” But he rolled his eyes, shrugged his shoulders and bought it.

Mrs. Stahl would have been proud.