Katz’s Deli

I have this problem. I don’t feel I have enough to do in my life. I mean, with working a full time job, trying to get my own company off the ground and attempting to write a novel in between squeezing in the general frivolities of being… really, I just have way too much time on my hands.

So, i’ve decided that this is the perfect time to start a new blog. It just feels right, transcedental even, and since on this lovely grey day in old London town, I apparently have nothing better to do, well, here goes.

This blog is essentially going to be about food, that I eat, see and cook. A philosophical foodies journey through the ether. A wise man, I think it might have been Aristotle, once said ‘If your meal hasn’t been instagrammed, have you really eaten it?’ and, well  he didn’t actually, that’s a total lie, sorry, but I bet he would have said it if he’d known any better. So without further ado, I will stop babbling and focus on the important things in life… chicken soup and pastrami.

Katz’s deli is for me like the motherland. I was a poor lost soul that had been stuck, wandering, not dissimilar to that lot on Star Trek Voyager, and I have finally made my way home. Aside from the fact that it’s really famous, we’ve all seen that scene from ‘When Harry met Sally’ (if you haven’t, hop to it, it’s an awesome movie), it really is just so damn delicious. I went there with my parents. I think it was something like a homecoming for them too. We ordered the Matzo ball soup, Pastrami sandwich, which of course came with the obligatory side of pickles, latkes, and some cream cheese blinzes to finish.

The pastrami was peppered, just the way it should be, and we had the option to try before you buy, but I was sold before I even put it in my mouth. Talk about portion sizes! This felt like half a cow in between two delicious mustard covered slices of Rye, and I was in heaven. It was succulent, and flavourful, i’m pretty sure even my dad, the vegetarian, had a watering mouth at the thought of it. The Matso ball was big and fluffy, it fell apart on the spoon and didn’t bounce (which is always a good sign). The latkes were the second best i’ve ever had, the best were in a Jewish bakery in the Marais, Paris, but still they were a pretty perfect combination of soft on the inside and crunchy on the outside.

If i’m going to be honest, the blinzes were unnecessary, we were being greedy. By the time we ordered these we were already stuffed to the eyeballs, but I needed to try them, and I wasn’t disappointed. Perfectly cooked crepe style pancake wrapped around the cream cheese with a side of apple sauce and more cream cheese for good measure. I don’t know how they make the cheese there, but it was so light I thought it might make me float, with a sort of whipped and fluffy consistency. Spectacular. It didn’t seem cheap, but I guess the prices were fairly standard for a New York institution, and with that long awaited experience under our belts (literally) we happily rolled on our merry way.

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