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Home > Blogs > Uncorked > Archives > 2009 > May > 21 > Entry
Sharing memories of Jay Haverstick
Yesterday was a surreal day for those of us who knew Jay Haverstick — and I know that includes many of you who read these pages of Uncorked.
Today brings an opportunity to reflect on the man whom one of our readers described simply (and quite accurately) as “a class act.”
I have a couple of very distinct images of Jay in my mind.
I’m not sure why the first one remains embedded there, but I have a mental picture of Jay from 10 or 15 years ago standing in his restaurant, addressing those of us who had gathered for one of his famous Saturday wine luncheons. He was holding a huge, ugly, slimy fish that must have been five or six feet long. I don’t remember the variety of fish, but he was holding it high in the air with both hands, and he was waxing eloquent about that fish, delivering more information about that variety of fish than any of us at the luncheon thought possible for one man to know.
Jay, always a well-dressed man, had on his usual perfectly starched white shirt, and the more he talked, and the more he held up this fish, the more it started leaking its natural juices down his arm, discoloring virtually the entire length of his sleeve, and eventually dripping onto the floor. Jay was unfazed. He may not have even noticed. Such was his passion for seafood, for running a restaurant, for teaching others how to enjoy life to its fullest.
Tight budgets and other responsibilities greatly reduced my attendance to those wine luncheons over the years. Today, I find myself wishing I had gone to every single damn one of them.
The second memory illustrates how sometimes it’s the smallest of kind gestures that are long remembered. It goes back about 16 or 17 years, when my oldest son, who is now 21, was maybe 4 or 5 years old.
I stopped in to Jay’s Kitchen Door, the shop behind Jay’s Restaurant that sells fresh seafood and hosts wine tastings, to buy some fish for dinner. Jay was in the shop — probably talking wine (or fish) with a customer — but shifted his attention quickly to my son, greeting him in a gentle, grandfatherly way. Jay disappeared for a moment into the restaurant, and came back with a package of oyster crackers for my son, who, I can assure you, thought those crackers were just about the coolest thing to eat as any food ever invented. I mean he scarfed ‘em down. He scored a couple more packages of those oyster crackers during subsequent visits.
My son still remembers those oyster crackers — and so do I. And I’ll always remember the man who gave them to him.
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Comments
By Mark Francischetti
May 21, 2009 10:29 AM | Link to this
I think it is important to look past all the platitudes that will undoubtedly (and in many respects deservedly) be laid at the feet of Jay Haverstick. He was a complex and unique individual who surely comes as close to an icon in the restaurant business as Dayton has to offer. Jay was focused and driven, yet soft spoken and gentle. He valued loyalty in friends and shared his vast knowledge and experience in the restaurant business and photography with all. Memories of Jay – my favorite takes me back to the days at the Kitchen Door before the renovation when on a Friday evening we would all meander among the varietals in the racks like mice looking for just that right piece of cheese, all the while sharing a camaraderie that is often present for a brief moment in time and place not to be replicated. One evening, I guess I must have made an impression on Jay concerning my passion for French wine while having a discussion with him about good and mediocre vintages of Bordeaux as he said “come with me, I want to show you something”. Not one to turn down an invitation from Jay when it came to wine, I followed him along the corridor that runs between the Kitchen Door and the restaurant proper (which we all used as a path to the bathroom in the days before the renovation of the Kitchen Door provided a “facility”) down to the cellar in the basement of the restaurant. I was dumbfounded at the time over the extent of his cellar and collection of premiere Bordeaux. He focused my attention on an unopened wooden wine box. It was a case of Le Forts de Latour 1990 (as many of you will know, a great house and great vintage). Jay graciously sold me that case at an almost criminally low price. Some time this weekend I’m going to render unto Caesar by opening one of those bottles in memory of Jay. I’m sure Jay will be smiling somewhere.
By Mark & Jane
May 21, 2009 8:15 AM | Link to this
The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord. Thank you Lord for giving us the opportunity to know such a unique man.