September 10th, 2005

sledge hammer!

Prepare to slaver

I am suddenly very hungry.

I ate here occasionally as a kid, always ordering the same thing: the Number One, a pastrami on rye with Russian dressing, tomato and cole slaw, an admittedly heretical combination, especially to those who hold that mustard is the only acceptable pastrami condiment or that a Jewish deli ought to, at the very least, keep kosher with its Number One sandwich, but, heretical as it may be, it's melt-in-your-mouth heavenly here. And it needs to be, for the sandwich arrives at least six inches high in the middle, a heaping pile of pastrami perched precariously on the freshest rye bread, the whole contraption subject to catastrophic collapse if your tooth catches on even the smallest sliver of fat. Which it never does, for this is the best pastrami you'll ever eat, the highest quality beef, seasoned, smoked and steamed just so, a subtle blend of opposing tastes and textures blended to a harmonious whole on your tongue for a few fleeting minutes until you've inhaled the entire thing and look around to be sure no one noticed your gross and completely uncharacteristic display of gluttony.