Last Tuesday I had lunch at Delicatessen on Prince and Lafayette with some co- workers. The idea was to talk about the UX stuff we were doing at work, and to get out of the office. We talked about work, our work histories as well as our families and other more personal stuff. But through the whole lunch, we all talked about the mediocre experience we were having.
The music was loud enough that we all had to stress to hear each other. I always feel old when I ask people to repeat what they just said (what?!), and I feel even older if I have to ask someone to turn the music down. Why does music need to be so loud, especially in a restaurant in the middle of the day? The worst thing though was that the service was really slow. After each of our drinks came separately, and fairly quick appetizers, we waited about 30 minutes for our main courses, all of which were salads. When the salads came, they were fine, but truthfully weren’t worth the wait.
Delicatessen was in the news frequently after it first opened, both for it’s bad food and the sceney, noisy atmosphere that pissed off the neighbors. It still has a reputation as a see and be seen kind of place, but to me that doesn’t excuse poor service or mediocre food. I would never go there again, and wouldn’t recommend it to anyone.
That same night, after work, I went to an industry event down on the Lower East Side. Since it was nearby, I went to Katz's to get a hot dog before going home. Katz’s is famous for many things: as being one of New York’s oldest and best delicatessens (open since 1888), for the “send a salami to your boy in the Army” WWII era slogan, and of course the famous scene in “When Harry Met Sally.”
For me Katz's reminds me of a brief period if my life when I used to hang out on the Lower East Side - what to me was a quintessential period of LES history. In the mid 90’s new music venues like Arlene’s Grocery, Tonic (closed in 2007) and Luna Lounge opened (closed in 2004), and the neighborhood was just safe enough to hang out in without constant fear of being mugged, but it still had an edge. Drinks in the downstairs bar at Tonic in the old pickle vats, playing foosball at Luna Lounge waiting for my friend’s band to go on, and going to Katz’s at 2am to get a hot dog and a knish are all fond memories I have of the LES.
This was before rampant development gentrified the neighborhood so much that a lot of the music venues there were pushed out by rising rents (including Tonic and Luna Lounge just to name two) and the neighborhood became dominated by glassy apartment buildings and loud bridge & tunnel revelers.
AT Katz’s I felt like I had gone back in time: you still had to push through the turnstile to get in, and get your yellow ticket from the guy at the door (don’t lose it!). There are still the loud guys cutting huge pieces of meat along the back wall behind the counter, the self-serve water fountain in the back with glasses stacked on the shelves above, the photos of famous people on the side wall. And yes, some things have changed there: no more waiter service at the tables along the wall, rather than old Jewish guys serving you, it’s mainly younger Hispanic guys, a hot dog with sauerkraut is now $4.00 (they used to be $1.50!) and the huge glassy apartment building across the street on what used to be a parking lot. But still, it’s Katz’s.
It got me thinking about how much tradition and our own personal histories have to do with how we rate our experience of restaurants and food. From your local bar where you forgive the dingy décor and sticky bar because it’s your ‘local,’ to the diner on the corner that you only order one thing from, but you’d be very sad to see it go. A good food experience isn’t always just about the food.
