Downscale Deli’s Demise Has Patrons Up in Arms
At the base of all the glass skyscrapers, flanked by an upscale fitness club and finely manicured parcels of grass, Joe Khan’s storefront couldn’t be more out of place: a working-class deli of grease, burgers and no-nonsense sandwiches that has been a fixture in this Costa Mesa office park for some 13 years.
The deli across from South Coast Plaza is beloved by its customers, be they lawyers, bankers, custodians or tree-trimmers.
Most don’t have to say a word when they walk in. Khan already is making their cheeseburger with raw onions and extra-heavy dollops of mayonnaise, or their special grilled chicken sandwich, no bread. “All I have to do is nod, and he knows,” said one customer recently.
But on Friday the Plaza Delicatessen will be gone, its owners asked to vacate by property managers who will demolish the space at the bottom of the Imperial Bank office building to make room for an architectural firm. Khan would do anything to stay--”I will miss everybody so much. I am losing a lot,” he said--but his lease is up, and there’s nothing he can do.
Customers--almost 600 of them--signed a petition begging the property management company, owned by mega-developer Henry Segerstrom, to let the deli stay. “Leave the tradition be,” said Yomi Boone, who works in the collections department of a nearby company.
But Imperial Bank building property managers said the space already is leased in this hot real estate market, and the Plaza Delicatessen must go.
It’s the South Coast Metro area’s equivalent of losing the corner shop with a soda jerk and apothecary jars of hard candy. Customers wonder if the store’s plain facade and unlovely decor were part of the decision.
The very idea makes people bristle: Folks say the deli’s charm is its uniqueness among everything that surrounds it. Next door, in a storefront that once housed a traditional barbershop, is a gourmet sandwich eatery named Briazz that sells prepackaged meals and heady salads in an atmosphere that glistens with newness. Outside is a bright-yellow modern-art sculpture.
The Plaza Delicatessen has beige tile floors, simulated-wood paneling and an old-fashioned white-plastic-and-red-letter menu board with items such as “grilled ham and cheese,” “tuna melt” and “catsup.” In a corner is a dusty pantyhose display. “For those emergency situations,” Khan said bashfully.
Property managers said appearances had nothing to do with the termination of Khan’s lease: Khan could have made his store look as grand as the Taj Mahal; it wouldn’t have made a difference. It had nothing to do with the rent either, they said. Khan paid $3,355 a month for the space.
“His lease is up,” said Stanley D. Taeger, director of Office Property Management, the Segerstrom arm that manages the Imperial Bank building. “We’ve had a very good relationship with him for a long time. . . . It had nothing to do with money. We’re in the middle of doing an extensive remodel of the entire area. We had to make room for an architectural firm.”
Customers, meanwhile, seemed to react last week with borderline despair. “It happened so quick,” one said. “What am I supposed to do now?” asked another. “Just like that, poof! He’s gone,” said a third person, adding, “What a world we live in.”
It all starts with Khan. Avuncular and gentle-voiced, the 44-year-old Costa Mesa man knows, by heart, the favorite lunches of about 500 people and seems to make his customers feel as if they are the only ones who share a special relationship with him.
Maria Hill, who works at a nearby office tower, walks in. Khan whispers: “She wants the grilled chicken on toasted sourdough and the free salad.”
Khan gets up, and Maria sits down without even ordering. “I’ve come for six years. I get my sandwich and my free macaroni salad. What I like most is there is a personal relationship here,” she says. If she’s out of cash, for example, Khan knows she’s good for it.
Many are lamenting the lack of choice once Khan leaves. One day a salad from next door sounds good, the next a cheeseburger is just right. Even Briazz employees are depressed.
“What?” busboy Roman Padilla says with a doleful stare when told the deli will be closing. “I guess no more double-double [hamburgers] for me. It is terrible. I can’t get a burger where I work.”
Khan, who hasn’t taken a vacation since 1989, plans after Friday to take some time off, maybe visit his mom in Florida. “Then I have to start all over again, from scratch,” he said. “I will probably try to find another office park to open a deli.”
But Khan figures he’s pretty good at the office-park thing--and making things from scratch.
