They hand you a ticket first thing when you walk into Katz's Deli. It's like an amusement park ride. You're told not to lose it, and yes, they're serious. You won't be able to leave without that ticket.
The thing about Katz's Deli is, it's a place out of time. The way it does things is not the way things are done now.
Hence the ticket. A lot of people don't get that, and this is why Katz's has such a large staff on-hand all the time, otherwise, things would get constantly bottle-necked.
So when you walk in, like I did, pushing a stroller (with my son Liam inside), there's somebody on hand to help you out immediately. Better that than risk having you blunder about, getting in everybody's way. And this is how I met Richard.
Richard is one of the people working to facilitate traffic at Katz's. He led us to a free table, without waiter service, as he'd determined I was the first of my party to arrive.
He was a pleasant guy, and had a million stories to share, although he only had time for one. He recounted the time that some folks took up a table and pissed off the waiter by telling them they still had one more coming to join them. That person turned out to be Michael Moore. The waiter was non-plussed, not because he didn't care for Michael Moore, but because he saw celebrities so often that it just didn't matter to him how famous you were.
You see, Katz's Deli is bigger than that.
Actually, Katz's Deli is bigger than most places. When you've been gone for a while, you forget how far back it goes. The counter is expansive and the seating area stretches out for a long time. Katz's is huge, and seats hundreds of people at once.
Richard is called back to duty quickly, so that gives me time to unpack Liam and his action figures from our stroller, and we get a good look around while we wait. The lines of people are impressive and you can easily see the difference between the first time visitors and the veterans. Old-timers know there are multiple lines to serve you at the counter. Tourists all end up in the first queue.
Liam is almost two years old. We're at the point now where we can enter everyday life again, and Katz's Deli has been calling my name for a long time. So when my co-editors wanted to meet up there, I leapt at the opportunity to introduce Liam to that beautiful pastrami.
And, oh, that pastrami! All around us, people are crying out with joy. Not quite Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally, but you get the idea. Still, Liam hadn't tried anything like this yet, so I wasn't sure if he'd like it. We'd see soon enough.
By the way, if you don't know, Katz's Deli is expensive. Two sandwiches with drinks can run you $52. Actually, that will run you $52. That's another quick way to spot the first time visitors; their hands are covering their mouths with shock when they see the prices.
Look, this is New York, this city is expensive. Also, water is wet and bacon is tasty. But the high prices are worth it. And not just because Katz's makes amazing sandwiches, but because it reconnects you with New York's past. You're not just paying for your food, you're paying for the experience. It's dinner and a show, and your show is a trip through time, to the way New York City used to be.
Not to mention Katz's Deli has a huge overhead. But then again, all of New York City does.
Add to that the sheer amount of staff they have to have on hand at all times and it's an expensive place to run. Throw in that it's a tourist attraction on top of that and you get $20 sandwiches. Basic math, right?
One of my editors shows up. He's meeting Liam for the first time, and is thrilled to see him wearing a New York Rangers sweater. We chat about sports while we wait for the other co-editor. We picked a good time of day to lounge, you normally can't linger at a table without food in front of you at Katz's Deli. That's a good way to get yelled at.
From my days in the restaurant industry, I learned that the middle of the afternoon was the slowest time of the day. That's true at Katz's as well, but it's still pretty jammed. There's no way we could sit and chill like this during the lunch rush.
But the tantalizing aromas are just killing us. We can't wait around anymore, so we go order our food. We slip past the noobs lined up behind the first counter person and step up to where they're available.
,Not sure if Liam's going to dig on the pastrami, but when the guy making our sandwich puts sample cuts up for us, the kid lunges for them. After stuffing some into his mouth, he pauses, his eyes widen, and he immediately dives back for more, squealing with delight.
The next line over, there's a guy wearing biker gear with a name tag that says "Tank." It's gotta be his name because that's what he looks like. Dude's built like an anvil. His leather jacket is adorned with skulls, spikes and The Finger. He flips you off with his clothes.
But this big mean guy happily accepts the pastrami held out to him from a cheerful amost-two-year old. If Liam likes his food, you see, he wants you to have some too. Tank's eyes smile back at us from under the brim of his biker hat with "Fu*k You" printed on it.
Pastrami. The great equalizer. Say it's too expensive, say it's for the tourists, say whatever you want; it's still the star, the absolute main attraction here.
Everyone in the place, regardless of race, creed, gender, or age, is humbled by it. Squealing toddler and surly biker are both on the same page.
How else do you think Katz's Deli has stuck around in a neighborhood increasingly marked by shuttered places? The kebab house on the next corner deserved to stick around, no pun intended, but it's gone now. The corporate franchises are gaining a foothold, and the old-school rep on that strip is held down by Katz's, Russ and Daughters, and a handful of other icons.
So if you're going to talk trash about Katz's Deli, you better be prepared to get told to back up. Yeah, it's a tourist trap. So what? It deserves to survive however it can, and if you're going to say otherwise, you don't know what you're talking about. Period.
Eating the food, balancing shoveling pastrami at Liam and shoveling my own sandwich into my gob, we're struck with conflicting motivations; savor the food slowly or gobble it down. We try to alternate but each bite demands to be immediately followed by another.
All around us is an opera of happy diners, singing arias to their meals. We were in such a hurry to eat that we forgot to grab drinks, but end up saving the day with some Dr. Brown's sodas. Black Cherry for him, Root Beer for me. Perfection.
The other co-editor finally joins us. He's late, but so easy-going, you just don't mind. You see, if he's late, it isn't because he's inconsiderate or lazy, but because he's got a full plate. This is New York, and late doesn't mean lazy here. Lazy in New York doesn't do so well. Nobody at Katz's Deli is lazy.
"Excuse me, I have to ask you a question." We look up from our sandwiches to see two dignified, older ladies smiling down at Liam. He hasn't noticed them at all, he's too busy throwing his action figures around. "What bottle do you get that color from?"
They're referring to Liam's unabashed red-headedness. "We've been trying to get our hair like that for years!" Everyone laughs, and we take a moment to talk to a couple New Yorkers who have seen it all. The moment lasts until Liam seizes upon the opportunity to spill sugar all over the table while we're distracted.
But this moment emphasizes why Katz's Deli is a thing; places where you can talk to old-school New Yorkers like this are becoming increasingly rare. Places die out fast here, corporate clones usurp them. A great big dining space, with amazing food putting everyone in a good mood, served in an old-fashioned way, where you have no choice but to mix with everyone? How many other places like that can you name off the top of your head?
Just in the short time we've been here we've made friends with two very nice old ladies, a mean-looking biker, and the lovely young couple Liam has been making faces at while we ate. There's a very real sense of community here, a connection with the New York that came before, that is still here, and should never be forgotten.
And, damn, those sandwiches are so good!
But the time has come to leave. Even during the quiet time in the mid-afternoon, there's only so long you can linger at Katz's Deli. When your food is gone, you need to go to. Somebody else is waiting to sit and eat.
As I pack up Liam, I noticed my tardy co-editor hasn't ordered anything. When I ask why, he answers, "I don't like pastrami."
There's a disbelieving moment of silence, then we all break out laughing. It isn't until I'm blocks away that it occurs to me that he just wanted to experience Katz's Deli. The food wasn't what drew him, but the experience of being there. That explains why Katz's is a thing in NYC, as well as anything else.
Here's to hoping it always will be a thing in this ever-changing city.
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