Deli closing reminds us that change is constant, and difficult

There was nothing like my grandmother's matzah ball soup.

The tasty, bubbling mix of water, chicken, vegetables, and spices combined with the lightest, fluffiest balls of dough mixed and cooked to perfection — all from a recipe that existed only in her head.

Luckily, before she died, my grandmother made the concoction with my mother beside her, taking notes. Since then, my mom, my daughter and I all have tried to replicate the deliciousness.

Sipping that soup is like being enveloped in the biggest hug. It's the taste of family and comfort, of decades of holidays and bouts with the common cold.

While not my grandmother's magic, the matzah ball soup at Regal Kosher Delicatessen in Plainview offers a similar taste, filled with memory, an elixir for whatever ails you.

And it's not just the soup. It's the smiles of those behind the counter, including members of the Weiss family, who opened the Kosher deli in 1966. The smell of corned beef and pastrami, and hot dogs on the grill. The simple, relatively unchanged décor.

Now, Regal Deli is just days away from closing its doors.

"I've been coming here for as long as I can remember," said Massapequa resident Eileen Greaney, 57, a Plainview native who remained a loyal customer, this week returning for one more hot dog. "I am wondering what am I going to do now."

Regal owner Sherri Banks, 50, of Melville, recalled how her father, Steven Weiss, now 80, built the business, how she learned from her grandmother how to work the cash register, and how bussing tables would occasionally earn a $1 tip.

"It always has been home to me," Banks said. "And listening to all the customers coming in, it's home to them, too."

We all have a spot like that — the diner, the deli, the tiny neighborhood place serving that particular dish that reminds us of the one that never had a written recipe.

But too many of those haunts are disappearing, often replaced by chains or healthier, more modern alternatives. Regal's road has been tougher since Steven fell ill six years ago. More recently, Banks has faced the loss of personnel, rising meat prices, and a dwindling clientele. 

"It's a generational food, and that generation has died or moved to Florida," Banks said.

This week, I returned to Regal, for matzah ball soup, a corned beef sandwich and, yes, a hot dog. (Don't tell my doctor.) Joining me was Edgewise Energy chief executive Sammy Chu, a Metropolitan Transportation Authority board member. The goal was to discuss transit, politics, and more. But mostly, we talked about our families — and the food.

"This is the place where I could come and go back in time, to sit at my grandmother's table and eat her kishke, and on the way out, I can get a bar of halvah, and be reminded of my grandfather," said Chu, whose mother is Jewish.

So, what happens when we lose a place that carries with it a bit of ourselves, our families, our past? 

We can fight to hold on — and Banks says there is a "glimmer" of hope that Regal might stay open if customers keep coming. If it does, I'll certainly be back.

But if change does come, as it so often does, my daughter and I will still be trying to perfect my grandmother's matzah ball soup, keeping our traditions — and all the memories that come with them — alive.

Columnist Randi F. Marshall's opinions are her own.

By Randi F. Marshall

randi.marshall@newsday.com@randimarshall

Randi Marshall is a member of the Newsday editorial board.