It is said that you have to die to go to heaven, but I must disagree. I enjoyed a little bit of heaven right here on the Lower East Side.
We spent the weekend in New York City. Naomi and I headed north to spend some time with one of her daughters and to get our NY Fix. We had a great time taking in a wonderful play, All the Way, found a couple of restaurants heretofore untested by the three of us as well as enjoying one of our romantic favorites. Eating is a nexus of Jewish and New York experiences. And speaking of eating, our ride out of the city was done in style by stopping on Houston Street.
We strategically parked the car at the corner of Eldridge and Houston and put the blinkers on. Then we headed or Yonah Schimmels. Think Knish, those plump pockets of potato perfection. Fortuitously we met a couple of New York’s Finest who were to be our guardian angels as we waited for the knishim (?) to come up fresh from the oven. Box tied with string in hand, we moved forward.
Then we traipsed through snow to the next destination, a bit further east on Houston was Russ and Daughters. The best cream cheese in the world as best as I can tell and so too the best Salmon, kippered salmon, lox, gravlax, whitefish, herring, etc., etc. etc. The line was long, so we schmoozed. The people behind the counter seemed to feed off of our enthusiasm to be at this mecca of appetizing. The bags were getting heavier.
And the third in our trifecta was Katz’s. How can we be so close and not stop in for some amazing stuff there? Tickets in had we moved toward the meat cutters. Naomi and I shared a frank and a sausage, both of course dripping in mustard and sauerkraut (I will have to return another day for some pastrami). Katz’s tag line says, “Send a Salami to your boy in the army.” But the hanging salami was irresistibly calling my name. I do not know what Rob Reiner’s mom had, but I was totally taken by the dried salami, a remnant of which now sits in my fridge at home. Our reinforced shopping bags were sagging.
Interestingly, we hit all three food groups as we moved across Houston: milchik, fleishik and pareve. According to my belt, my waistline seems to be about an inch larger than when I stared out a few days ago, and I seem unquenchably thirsty. But wow, what a road trip!