Sally's orgasm would today be drowned out by the sounds of Tourists vacuuming meat.
Written: Aug 01 '02 (Updated Aug 01 '02)
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Pros: Pastrami like buttah...potato pancakes so good, I was looking for my baba in the kitchen!
Cons: Sandwiched for tourists between NYLA and the Olive Garden for that authentic New Yawk feel.
The Bottom Line: The best Pastrami sandwich in the world, just go during the off-season.
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| bohemianpal's Full Review: Katz's Deli |
Last weekend four friends dropped in from Montreal for their annual New York experience (TM). As graduate students, we are all specialists in crawling through the trenches of our respective cities finest budget dining 'holes in search of the Next Great Thing. For those not in the know, Montreal just happens to be the home of the World Famous (TM) Schwartz Charcoutterie Hebraique Smoked Meat Sandwich. After a heavy afternoon of introducing my Molson ambassadors to the delicate and refined tones of Brooklyn Lager, a most trenchant argument erupted over the merits of Schwartz' claim as North America's finest smoked meat establishment.
No one, I was repeatedly told, could equal the Smoked Meat (think bastard cousin of the Pastrami, extra fatty and heated) at Schwartz- certainly not any of New York's overpriced tourist traps. On my suggestion, we took our hangovers to the Lower East Side for a taste-test of Katz' famous Pastrami on Rye.
We arrived mid-afternoon on a Saturday and were met by what could only be described as a high school cafeteria on steroids. Hordes of people packed in a way that would make zoning and fire laws blush. Mountains and mountains of tourists with GAP shopping bags and flat-peaked Yankee caps mixed in with a handful of sour-faced New Yorkers waiting on one of the fifteen mini-lines. The four of us schlepped in like cattle staring jaw open at the mess.
"You godda gedon da line," quoth the line usher. "Uhh. Yeah." Shuffle...shuffle...mooooooo...chew grass thoughtfully. There were three people ahead of us. The guy in front of me had three thousand and forty six gray hairs, or so my count had reached before he so rudely walked away, food in hand, to the barked "yeah, next!" from the counter-guy. We shouted out three orders of the pastrami with da' mustahd.' He elegantly sliced each of us a paper plate sample of what was to come, and took our paper tickets to scribble down the total (They do the Same Thing at Schwartz, mes amis exclaimed!) for final processing at the front door.
We managed to find seats quickly enough, however my potato pancakes were delayed since I had to walk forty feet over to a different counter to place the order. After settling down, we hit the meat. Chewing. Silence. Chewing. Nodding. Silence. Chewing. Nodding. Smiles all around. The seed-free eastern european rye bread was fresh, thinly sliced and light, with a smooth leathery crust. The pastrami was tender and buttery, the four inch stack textured and delicate, and heated well enough to stay warm, but not soggy or messy enough to soak through the bread. It was, we later discussed, as if g*d had decided that he would express the perfection of his divine essence through this sandwich. My friends, mustard on their chin and delirium in their eyes, looked at me and managed to mumble out "it's... different than Schwartz." My friend Carolyn made the point of saying that Meg wouldn't have had to fake if only she'd been eating this sandwich. I nodded. We ate. Four people said excuse me and pushed my chair into the table, with me still seated, throughout the meal. Babies cried. A Japanese man with a megaphone stood on a chair and shouted instructions to his Hungarian tour group. And me, I sat back and stared at the pictures on the wall- the black and white smokey nostalgia of a time when New York was noir, where Katz was the place to be for New Yorkers, where men wore hats and babies stayed at home, when Zagat was just a lawyer, and when "Time Out New York- the Cities Cheapest Eats!" was not available at the Des Moines airport- all the while chewing, savoring, and licking my plate clean, hoping to catch one last hit of the best pastrami sandwich of my life.
Recommended:
Yes
Kid Friendliness: Yes
Vegetarian Friendly: No
Notes, Tips or Menu Recommendations Get the meat. Get it to go. And hope there is no traffic on the way home.
Best Suited For: Friends
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bohemianpal
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Reviews written: 1
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