Katz's Delicatessen – New York City
When 136 Years of Hype Meets Reality
In a city where waiting in line has become an Olympic sport, Katz's Delicatessen stands as the undisputed heavyweight champion of queue culture. Since its founding in 1888, this Lower East Side institution has been serving pastrami sandwiches to New Yorkers, tourists, and apparently anyone willing to stand in what can only be described as a human traffic jam for the privilege of spending $23 on lunch.
Let me start with what works: the atmosphere is undeniably authentic. Walking into Katz's feels like stepping into a time machine set to 1946, complete with the kind of no-nonsense décor that says "we've been here longer than your great-grandmother's dentures." The walls are covered with photographs spanning decades, creating a visual timeline of New York that's genuinely moving.
Each week, Katz's serves 15,000 lb (6,800 kg) of pastrami, 8,000 lb (3,600 kg) of corned beef, 2,000 lb (910 kg) of salami and 4,000 hot dogs – numbers that speak to either impressive efficiency or industrial-scale meat processing, depending on your perspective.
But let's talk about the elephant-sized pastrami in the room: the wait. Lines which sometimes are supposed to near 45 minutes are not uncommon, and during peak hours, you're looking at easily an hour of your life spent shuffling forward like you're queuing for concert tickets to see The Beatles reunion tour. The cruel irony? The best time to grab one of those delectable pastrami sandwiches is in the morning. Katz's Delicatessen opens at 8:00 every morning, seven days per week. During the first couple of hours, the legendary dining establishment is practically empty – but apparently, this memo never reached the masses of tourists clutching their guidebooks like holy texts.
The service ranges from brusque New York efficiency to borderline hostility, depending on which cutter you encounter. The staff operates with the warmth of DMV employees during a government shutdown, wielding their knives like they're personally offended by your existence.
Now, about that famous pastrami. Is it good? Yes. Is it transcendent enough to justify the circus surrounding it? That's where things get complicated. The meat is tender, properly seasoned, and piled high enough to feed a small village. Katz's has a secret "dry cure" pickling formula that requires a full month to be ready to serve, and you can taste the care that goes into the preparation. But here's the thing – and I say this as someone who's eaten barbecue from Texas to the Carolinas – this is New York pastrami, not barbecue. Comparing Katz's pastrami to proper Texas brisket or Carolina pulled pork is like comparing a Broadway show tune to jazz; they're both music, but they're playing completely different games. The pastrami is excellent within its own lane, but if you're expecting the smoky, complex flavors of true barbecue, you'll leave wondering what all the fuss was about.
The sandwiches are comically oversized – less "sandwich" and more "meat sculpture with bread accessories." The rye bread does its job admirably, but it's essentially playing supporting actor to a pound of pastrami that's auditioning for its own sitcom. The pickles are crisp and properly sour, a necessary palate cleanser between bites of what amounts to a salt-cured meat mountain.
The real tragedy is that Katz's has become a victim of its own success. What was once a neighborhood joint serving exceptional food has transformed into a tourist destination where the experience often overshadows the meal. The chaos is part of the charm for some, but it's hard to savor your food when you're eating it standing up because finding a table requires the strategic planning of a military operation.
F*No
Here's the truth: Katz's serves good pastrami in an authentically New York setting, but the hype machine has inflated expectations to stratospheric levels. The combination of endless waits, surly service, and tourist-trap pricing creates an experience that's more about checking a box than enjoying a meal. If you're a pastrami purist or a completist tourist, go for it – but manage your expectations and maybe bring a book for the line.
Address: 205 East Houston Street, New York, NY 10002
Hours: Monday-Thursday 8 AM-11 PM, Friday 8 AM-Sunday 11 PM, 24 hours on weekends
Pro tip: If you don't have your ticket, you'll be charged $50 – guard that little red slip like it's your passport.