The Katz meow

Finally, I dared to strut my way into the massive meat mecca known as Katz's Delicatessen. With friends Stef and Jerome in tow who also planned to scratch it off their list of must-eats, the impetus to dine at this iconic NYC eatery was further fueled. A fixture of the Lower East Side since the late 1880s, Katz's feeds Gotham City its piles upon piles of succulent pastrami and corned beef, home brewed matzo ball soup and artisinal salami, a Katz's specialty that's been celebrated for years. During the fervor of World War II, Katz's encouraged parents to "send a salami to your boy in the Army." This catch phrase still gets tossed about to this day, as Katz's has arranged special international shipping of its throwback deli fare to U.S. military addresses.

Newbies to Katz may find the scene and the ordering process daunting. We were rattled by the boisterous crowds occupying the warehouse-like space, but they made for excellent people watching. As Stef perceptively noted, despite Katz's unstoppable popularity, the kosher deli still draws its fair share of smug local customers in addition to the bulging groups of wide-eyed tourists. It's refreshing to experience a guide book-listed restaurant still revered by the neighborhood denizens. A burly man lounging by the door seemed to double as a bouncer and a ticket dispenser. He handed each of us an ambiguous yellow ticket and let us run wild in the deli sans a set of instructions. From casual observations of other patrons, we deducted that as you order from individual stations, the staff behind the counters jots down the price of your order. You settle up by the door after you successfully devour your entire spread (note: credit card holders, head to the rear of the restaurant to pay for your meal).

Jerome and I sidled up to the sandwich counter to inspect the infamous deli meat, stacked in heavy, lopsided fashion like the Leaning Tower of Piza. Katz's coveted sandwiches come with a regal price tag, but with sound reason (average cost: $15). Many folks will staunchly argue that Katz's elevates the prices to "pick pocket" the purse strings of impressionable tourists willing to plunk down any number to embrace the old-fashioned deli treats (as seen on T.V.). But it's the choice cuts of meat and the bespoke preparation that warrants the high-society costs. A lanky elder with the leathery face of a Mick Jagger handed us rough-hewn slices of pastrami to sample. We gobbled them up with gusto and practically shut our eyes over the extreme tenderness of the beef that hit our wagging tongues. The peppered edges mingled harmoniously with the briny, salty characteristics. The pastrami tasted authentically of an old-fashioned preservation method. As they say, this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Wooed by this wanton pastrami, I naturally pinpointed this signature meat of Katz's as my dinner selection. With visions of a gargantuan sandwich plaguing my mind, I opted to order the half sandwich and soup combo instead of a full-tilt whole sandwich. Balanced between two slices of sturdy white bread and crowned with mustard, the naturally pink slices pulled off a fetching look of equal parts lush and husky. I was truthfully anticipating the larger breadth of a sandwich that I witnessed on many food shows (the T.V. does add ten pounds to people and food), but in retrospect, this meal sufficed in its medium stature. Anything larger, and the briny pastrami could be overkill in succulence, if such a problem could ever exist. And for once, it felt au naturale to finally enjoy such a beastly sandwich with my bare hands instead of a genteel knife and fork. Jerome lamented that though he enjoyed his corned beef sandwich, the pastrami was more tender. Stef indulged in another Katz's darling: the snappy hot dog produced in its natural casing. It was paired with a healthy dose of the house made sauerkraut.

The matzo ball soup performed well in providing me instant comfort, though I found the broth to feel a bit on the tepid side. I couldn't quite discern if it was beef or chicken based, or a pairing of the two? "That's the biggest matzo ball I've ever seen," remarked a neighboring customer with cheeky intentions. I gave off a nervous giggle to express a dichotomy of politeness and disinterest. But the girth of this matzo ball was indeed wondrous, almost the size of a tennis ball. It was firm yet mealy and possessed subtle savory flavors. I washed my spread down with a statuesque glass of Katz's artisinal stout, a brooding beer with a rich caramel finish. The three of us concurred that the pickles at Katz's exudes plenty of playful crunch, but harbors eccentric flavors. A vibrant green one tasted purely of a cucumber with minimal brine and the more traditional pickles concluded with an unexpected anise aftertaste. 

Katz's Delicatessen is not perfection, but it's pretty close to it. Bundle up the bonafide old-time deli fare, fabulous people watching and cafeteria-style setting into one tidy package and you've got the quintessential Manhattan experience at your command. Drop a piece of Hollywood into the middle of this NYC jungle for extra entertainment. You may recall that in "When Harry Met Sally," Sally throws her head back and fakes an orgasm while dining with Harry at Katz's. A woman nearby tells the server, "I'll have what she's having." Chances are, Sally just wolfed down some pastrami.



Katz's Delicatessen
205 E. Houston St.
New York, NY
Ph: 212-24-2266
Web site: http://katzsdelicatessen.com