It’s a well known fact that when meat-lovers visit New York, a trek to “Katz’s Delicatessan” to worship at the temple of pastrami is mandatory. So there was where I ventured this morning.
Once I entered their hallowed hall, I could feel the air crackling with electricity - likely from my own manic level of anticipation. A little blue ticket was handed to me by a really big dude and I was told where to head to place my order, which is basically the long stretch of counters they have running down the right side of the space. All in all, getting hold of my sandwich was a pretty smooth process. Thank goodness because the customers never stopped streaming in.
From the first to the last bite of my sandwich, I was lost in ecstasy. There’s not been a pastrami remotely close to the stratospheric level of moistness, flavour and softness of the one at Katz. To top it off, it proved surprisingly less salty as well. I liked that they throw on complimentary pickles and lightly pickled cucumbers with every order of sandwich too.