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At the 2nd Ave. Deli, they serve a mean pastrami sandwich, with thin, buttery folds of dark-red meat (it’s smoked and cured by A to Z Kosher Meat Products, and made from the well-marbled navel end). Stephen Kent Johnson for The Wall Street Journal
(Wall Street Journal) THE NEWS LAST SPRING that New York’s famed Carnegie Deli would be shuttered indefinitely came as a blow to fans of the mile-high pastrami sandwich.
But there’s reason to take heart: “You can still get amazing pastrami in this town,” said Ed Levine, founder of SeriousEats.com and a noted cured-meat connoisseur. “It just might not be in the usual places,” he said, citing Gramercy Tavern and Dickson’s Farmstand Meats, an organic butcher shop, as two spots that turn out fine variations of the old classic.
I grew up in Los Angeles, in a family where kosher meat platters accompanied most major milestones (when someone died in my family, the first call was to the rabbi; the second was to the caterer). So I had plenty of exposure to the curiosities of the Jewish meat counter. But pastrami, considered the filet mignon of the deli world, rarely crossed our table. I had my pastrami conversion relatively late in life, after moving to Manhattan in my 20s and finding my way to the original 2nd Ave. Deli, in the East Village. After my first pastrami sandwich there—two thin slices of caraway-studded rye bread stuffed with silky red ribbons of fragrant cured beef—I never looked back.
According to David Sax, author of “Save the Deli,” pastrami is not actually a food but a cooking technique brought to New York in the late 1800s by Romanian Jews who probably inherited it centuries earlier from the Turks. The idea was to take whatever meat or fowl was readily available, press it with salt, flavor it with copious amounts of spices, then smoke and steam it to tender perfection. The technique is like a hammam for your favorite protein.
Most culinary historians agree that pastrami on rye, the classic combo of sliced hot pastrami, lightly seeded rye bread, spicy brown mustard and absolutely nothing else, most likely originated in one of the hundreds of kosher delicatessens that sprang up in New York City at the turn of the last century.
“The standard deli sandwich hasn’t changed much in a hundred years,” said Will Horowitz, co-owner of Harry & Ida’s Meat and Supply Co., a new delicatessen in the East Village. (Mr. Horowitz’s father is a cardiologist. Go figure.) “Except that everything used to be handmade. Now we’re one of the few places who do it all ourselves.”
Other deli owners confirmed that much of the pastrami sold in New York eateries comes precooked from either Hebrew National (owned by Omaha’s ConAgra) or A to Z Kosher Meat Products in Brooklyn. A rare few pastrami purveyors—including Harry & Ida’s, Dickson’s, Pastrami Queen and Katz’s Delicatessen—still make the pastrami they sell.
“Cooking pastrami is one of the more complex processes in the kitchen,” said Michael Anthony, the executive chef at Gramercy Tavern, who also serves his own made-from-scratch pastrami, but only a few times a year. “I’m a little infatuated with pastrami,” Mr. Anthony admitted, “and the nostalgia the taste evokes. New York’s delis and the food they produced were the foundation of America’s food culture.”
As for what makes a perfect pastrami sandwich, opinions vary but ever so slightly—some prefer their meat sliced thin so that the peppery trim has a nice crunch; others like it cut thick, which better traps the juices. The aficionados are all ardent supporters of hand-slicing over mechanical meat slicers, “You get all those flavorful nooks and crannies and none of the gristle when it’s cut by hand,” said Mr. Levine.
Many insist on a rye bread, seeded or unseeded with a nice crunchy crust, but the more adventurous are willing to mix it up with, say, a French roll (see Harry & Ida’s, below). But there are a few non-negotiables. No mayo. Ever. “And the flavor of the meat needs to strike a good balance between sweet and spicy and smoky—but not too smoky,” said Mr. Sax, adding, perhaps most importantly, “There should be good moisture content and marbling. It needs a good amount of fat running through it.”
Mr. Levine couldn’t agree more: “A lean pastrami sandwich is pastrami blasphemy.”
The Pastrami Comeback | 2nd Ave. Deli
2nd Ave. Deli Photo: Stephen Kent Johnson for The Wall Street Journal
A legendary kosher eatery for 50 years, the 2nd Ave. Deli closed in 2006, a decade after the death of its beloved owner, Abe Lebewohl. His two young nephews reopened the business a year or so later on East 33rd St. and then opened another on First Avenue, nearly exact replicas of each other, with the same retro-style tile floors and Yiddish Theater posters on the walls, and the same slew of T-shirts, cookbooks and mail-order chicken soup for sale. But plenty of the old soul remains, including a few menu items that might be classified as shtetl-inspired cuisine, such as ptcha, or jellied calves feet. And they still serve a mean pastrami sandwich, with thin, buttery folds of dark-red meat (it’s smoked and cured by A to Z Kosher Meat Products, and made from the well-marbled navel end). It comes with a generous plate of pickles and my favorite kind of coleslaw (crispy, not too sweet), and rarest of all, an exceptionally friendly waitstaff ($20, 162 East 33rd Street, 1442 First Avenue; 2ndavedeli.com).
The Legendary Pastrami | Katz’s Delicatessen
*Katz’s DelicatessenPhoto: Stephen Kent Johnson for The Wall Street Journal *
One of the last relics of Jewish immigrant culture on the Lower East Side, the 128-year-old Katz’s now shares the neighborhood with fashionable hotels and pricey boutiques but is still a major tourist magnet in its own right. Locals and out-of-towners alike shuffle through the cafeteria-like lines in the massive wood-paneled dining room, plastered with celebrity photos and thank-you letters and old signs (one for the deli’s World War II promotional campaign, “Send a Salami to Your Boy in the Army,” dangles from the ceiling). It’d be easy to write Katz’s off as past its prime, but it has legions of loyal fans. “It’s still my go-to deli in New York,” said James Beard Award-winning food writer David Sax. It’s also one of the few delis in town that still hand-cuts the pastrami (the cutters themselves, many from the neighborhood, are part of the charm). The pastrami sandwich itself—despite all the hype—can be hit or miss, especially when the place is busy. On a recent visit, the meat was too lean and the bread crumbled in my hand, but the side of matzo ball soup, heaven in a bowl, atoned for all sins ($20, 205 East Houston Street, katzsdelicatessen.com).
The Cheesy Pastrami | Dickson’s Farmstand Meats
Dickson’s Farmstand Meats Photo:Stephen Kent Johnson for The Wall Street Journal
This sliver of a gourmet butcher shop in the middle of Chelsea Market has just a few stools at the counter. Its very unconventional interpretation of the pastrami classic scores points for sheer novelty and quality control. The organic beef (sourced from pasture-raised New York state cows) is cured, smoked and extremely well seasoned in-house (the Dickson crew rubs the spices into the meat and then rolls it tightly before smoking and steaming). The bread is whole-wheat multi grain, the mustard is paired with apricot-celery chutney and the surprise guest star is a slab of sharp cheddar. I prefer mine without the cheese—it seemed too rich to pair with the salty meat—but the apricot chutney is a stroke of genius. Go early: The pastrami sells out quickly ($9, Chelsea Market, 75 ninth Ave., dicksonsfarmstand.com).
The Cool Kid’s Pastrami | Harry & Ida’s Meat and Supply Co.
*Harry & Ida’s Meat and Supply Co. Photo:Adrienne Grunwald for The Wall Street Journal *
If Hogwart’s Apothecary smoked its own pastrami (and chicken and eels) it might look a lot like this pint-size sandwich shop and wacky artisanal grocery in the East Village, where oversize wooden cupboards are stocked with a curious assortment of pigs ears, rock candy and bags of mushrooms and herbs foraged in the wilds of Long Island. Opened last June by the young siblings Julie and Will Horowitz and their chef-partner Jonathan Botta (the team behind the equally inventive Duck’s Eatery nearby), Harry & Ida’s draws inspiration from traditional New York delis and southern barbecue, then builds on both. Their pastrami, made from the brisket’s fatty top point (sometimes called the deckle, which pastrami snobs swear by), is smoked for about 10 hours over planks of oak and maple, then cut thickly by hand and served in a Po-boy-style roll with buttermilk-fermented cucumbers and an anchovy-and-lemon infused mustard. It may sound overly fussy, but the meat was so rich and tender and the toppings so tangy that the combo made it my hands-down favorite ($17.50, 189 Avenue A, meatandsupplyco.com).
The Underrated Pastrami | Pastrami Queen
*Pastrami QueenPhoto:Stephen Kent Johnson for The Wall Street Journal *
This tiny, bare-bones Upper East Side kosher deli, with a handful of metal tables and bustling takeout counter, has a devoted following who come for pastrami made on site following, according to manager Jack Turner, an “age-old recipe.” One of its fans is Micah Wexler, owner of Wexler’s Deli in Downtown Los Angeles. “Pastrami Queen is very underappreciated,” said Mr. Wexler, who, coincidentally, is often referred to as Los Angeles’s new pastrami king. “They turn out a very good sandwich.” Agreed. But as much as I enjoyed the refreshingly modest portions and slightly sour seeded rye bread, I craved a little more salt and pepper and a little more attention from the harried staff. Neither were deal breakers in the end. I grabbed a delivery menu on my way out the door. ($16, 1125 Lexington Avenue, pastramiqueen.com).
The Old-School Pastrami | Ben’s Best
*Ben’s BestPhoto:Stephen Kent Johnson for The Wall Street Journal *
Run by the affable Jay Parker for the last 30 years and by his father for 40 years before that, Ben’s Best has all the trappings of a traditional kosher delicatessen, including the fluorescent lighting and ceramic bowls of sour pickles on the tables. Mr. Parker is also a traditionalist when it comes to his pastrami, using a decades-old formula. “When all the stars align,” said Mr. Parker, “the pastrami becomes so soft that it’s like cotton candy. It just melts in your mouth.” Even when the stars don’t quite align, Mr. Parker’s pastrami is well worth the trip, especially when paired with his homemade french fries and Dr. Brown’s Cel-Ray Soda. ($14, 96-40 Queen’s Boulevard, bensbest.com).
