You’ve heard the legends.
Elvis faked his death.
Elvis worked for the CIA.
Elvis was abducted by aliens, married Bigfoot’s cousin, and opened a hot tub showroom in Albuquerque.
All false.
The truth is stranger.
And tastier.
Because from 1978 to 1982, Elvis Presley—yes, that Elvis—lived above a kosher-Chinese restaurant in Paramus, New Jersey, under the alias Melvin Gefilte, and developed a wok technique so fast it could flash-fry your soul.
HOW IT BEGAN
After that infamous final concert in Indianapolis, Elvis didn’t die.
He choked on a pastrami egg roll, had a near-death experience involving Liberace and a flaming kugel, and decided he needed a new life.
He consulted Rabbi Herschel “the Hands” Kaplan, an underground spiritual advisor who doubled as a blackjack dealer at Caesars.
The Rabbi said:
“You’ve sung, you’ve danced, you’ve worn jumpsuits with rhinestones shaped like crucifixes. But have you ever made soup for a stranger?”
Elvis wept. Then he moved to New Jersey.
THE RESTAURANT: CHAI NU DELI
Hidden behind a dry cleaner and a psychic who only read brisket stains, Chai Nu Deli was owned by Aunt Tilda Wang-Goldfarb, the world’s first half-Chinese, half-Jewish Elvis impersonator.
She recognized The King instantly.
“You ain’t dead, and you ain’t thin, but honey—can you fold a wonton?”
They struck a deal.
Elvis would wash dishes, learn to cook, and rediscover his life’s purpose.
In exchange, he’d live rent-free and get all the moo shu he could eat.
THE DISHES HE CREATED
Elvis took to the wok like a duck to schmaltz.
His specialties included:
• Blue Suede Dumplings – Stuffed with brisket, banana, and a suspicious level of joy.
• Heartbreak Hotel Fried Rice – Every grain mourned a lost love.
• Hound Dog Hot & Sour Soup – So spicy, it barked.
• Suspicious Minestrone – An Italian-Jewish-Chinese hybrid that caused several lawsuits.
• The Presley Platter – Enough food to feed a minyan or kill a horse
Every Sunday, he’d cook for the elderly.
Every Monday, he’d deliver wontons to the synagogue’s Mahjong Mafia.
Every Friday, he’d host Shabbat karaoke, where he’d sing “Don’t Be Cruel” in Cantonese while balancing a tray of latkes on his head.
He got good.
Too good.
The New York Times sent a critic.
The critic wept into a bowl of matzah miso ramen and declared:
“I have seen God. She cooks with a wok and sings like a tenor.”
In 1982, a man named Colonel Sanders II (no relation, but emotionally similar) tracked Elvis down.
He wanted to market him as a spiritual-food-celebrity.
“I see a cookbook. I see a show on PBS. I see dumpling-scented cologne!”
Elvis refused.
“I came here to be, not brand.”
They argued over a plate of tempura kugel.
The kugel exploded.
The restaurant caught fire.
Elvis vanished.
Some say he ran a challah farm in Montana.
Others claim he became a Buddhist and opened a vegan deli called “No Cow, No Cry.”
But no one knows.
To this day, Chai Nu Deli is gone.
But if you stand in the alley behind the Paramus Mall and hum “Love Me Tender” while holding a pastrami egg roll, a steam vent might hiss in D minor.
Some nights, people say they smell duck sauce… and destiny.
MENU BOARD, LAST SEEN 1982
Chai Nu Deli – Specials of the Day
• Wonton of Suspicion
• All Shook Soup
• Kung Pao Kol Nidre
• Banana Blintz Surprise
• Fried Matzo with Love
Underneath, scrawled in ketchup:
“TCB – Taking Care of Blintzes”
Then lift your chopsticks, open your siddur, and prepare to flee Pharaoh on a scooter made of fortune cookies because the exodus now comes with extra soy sauce, brisket lo mein, and a side of matzah balls served in hot and sour soup.
Coming next week: Kung Pao and Kvetching - The Rise of the Jewish Takeout Habit
Yah killin me here, I can’t stop laughing, choked on my flaggel. Is that ranch in Montana next to the one where Frank Zappa went to grow Dental Floss?
Living near Paramus (Teaneck). I knew all that was true. I might have even eaten in that restaurant. The Bergen County Jail was a few miles away, thus "Jailhouse Rock" and after you ate in the restaurant you were "All Shook Up." Thanks for some Holiday Humor