Comfort Foods of New York City

The foods we ate in New York were the foods we came upon. There was no mad rush to acquire anything out of the ordinary. Or any kind of specific trek to find something. The food would just come to us. And it did. We were immediately bombarded with the smells of roasting nuts, mixed with street side grills. Hot dog stands everywhere. More than I ever remember. Sabretts. They are nonexistent in New Mexico. Hot dogs that snap when you bite into them. It's an unequaled overall feeling having a dog on the street in New York City. The buns are fresh fresh. The sauerkraut and mustard tart, slightly stinging. I don't ever opt for the sweet onions, but they are good, if not the most unique thing about them.

We had an eye open for foods we cannot get at all where we are from. Even in Santa Fe there is the normal entourage of high end eateries and fancy food parlors. We are not interested. Now Pastrami, that has been on our minds. 2nd Ave Deli has closed. Katz's has a line around the block all the time from what I hear. But foods can come in strange ways. We had simply walked outside from the hotel. We are in Hells Kitchen. 6th and 56th. This area close to times square churns and grinds with purpose, if not only to speed and push through to the next block, and the next. Even the massiveness that is the skyline, the very monoliths we look upward on have this purpose of movement. This part of the city is un-comprising. Ominous to mere humans. But still, magic can just happen. And it does. We are not two doors down from the New York Hilton and our heads turn upon Carnagies Deli. Serving since 1937. It's incredible that this place is not as famous as Katz's or 2nd Ave. The sandwiches come out piled in the well known Dagwood tower of freshly sliced meat. This Pastrami is if not the greatest in the world. Falling apart, creamy, peppery. Many fresh slices of perfect rye pinned to the sandwich with ten inch skewers. The boy says "Hey Dad, look, the funny part is tryin to get your mouth around it."

He pretends to eat it. The sandwich is of course, impossibly big. He's right. Its a comical sight. But all we want is the meat. And more pickles. By the end of the meal we are just dragging pastrami through puddles of brown mustard with our fingers into our mouths. Somewhere in the name Carnegies is the word carnal. We are unabashed.

And yes the pickles. Six immediately came to the table. Three half sours and three full sours. The full sours more the texture of a bread and butter pickle and the half sours as always snap when bitten. I am crunching them down with a cold Heineken. This most certainly is pickle and beer heaven here. There are times when I am eating something so chaste and special and rare and unattainable that its impossible not to feel uplifted, even exalted by the experience. The nostrils flair. The air is light. My father always calls food like this "fainting stuff". Its not an exaggeration that a meal this good can cause momentary vertigo.

Of course the surroundings are quintessential. Walls plastered with signed autographs. One thing New York likes is to be just exactly like New York. All of us know even if it's because of the movies. Someone is filming someone right in front of us oddly enough as if to compound the issue. We can't eat even hardly everything on the menu, if not one enormous sandwich. We are stuffed. The greatest Matzoh balls known to man whiz by, steaming and massive next to a bowl of crisp consumee. The borscht is pink pink and almost sudsy the way it rocks around and stains the cups it pours over, also hot enough the aroma just quickly rises in to the air. Sausages and cheese hang in the windows, next to a massive plastic pickle mascot people can take their picture with. The salads and cheesecakes in the counter call and call. I want to take the whole place home with me. But we must say goodbye. We have only just arrived in the city. There is so much more coming.

It has turned out that we stay in this hustle bustle for the next couple of days at the Park Central. An old art deco hotel two blocks from Central Park. The decor is out of Gotham City. Even the fixtures are irreplaceable and from a time forgotten. As the whole city is really. Truly there are not many places in America that have the air about it that New York has. One only need look up to reveal a sense of overall asthetic that not only inspires, but looms over us as a rich and antiquated "power that is." The powers that be hidden behind some of these walls. High above our heads there are picture windows revealing private clubs that from the ceilings and chandeliers look as if the ballrooms from an ancient europe aristocracy has been shipped over, so none should do with out. But really it is evidence how this city houses treasures in a way that truly keeps them. For the world eventually. In addition to being a mausoleum for what one might call a dying class, Manhattan is a nesting place for many of the worlds most sacrosanct items. This item-o-logy definitely includes New York bagels.

The subject of bagels cannot be brought up without immediately speaking of the water. Which is of course what we spoke of as we approached the bagel joint we were being led to.

"It's because of the water that new York Bagels are how they are."
"Artesian well water."
"I thought all the water in New York City comes from the Ashokan reservoir."
"I don't know where all the water comes from anymore.
"It's the same way as the pizza dough."
"Best Bagels in the world New York Bagels."

These bagels are from Brooklyn. And all stereotypes aside, they are perfect. To have it explained, most other bagels around the country are stodgy. Heavy, doughy, old. They are not really even worth eating most of them. Real Bagels are light, airy inside. The outside is thin and slightly leathery. They toast up quicker, because of how light they are. Most bagels fill you up awfully when you eat them. But this is the standard and it's impossible to beat, and no one should try. These great, original, sacrosanct bagels could be eaten constantly, on through the week. They seem as light as toasted bread. The water argument gets flimsy here. Sometimes people will attach something on to something great, such as this. Its not the water. These people just know what the hell they are doing.

Everyone thought my bagel was gross and told me so. I said that they didn't understand chopped liver and maybe they shouldn't try and just leave things to the professionals.

It was organized that the boy would get the lox and cream cheese. Which was good for him. I promised to let him taste the chopped liver. (He secretly did not think chopped liver is gross) I made sure he got tomatoes. I was very tempted by the whitefish. But when I could see the fresh hardboiled egg in the pate like concoction I was sold. Real good chopped liver is light, whipped up almost like a mousseline, and against the cream cheese heavenly. Not strong tasting. Aromatic with a little onion. Again mustard. Always mustard.

There were many places we could have gone during our five day stint. Foodwise and otherwise. We thought of getting to the empire state building. Maybe we would have gotten to ground zero to pay some respects. But what turned out to be important was Coney Island. There is a good chance we would not get back here for many years. The truth is Coney Island is mincemeat. The plan to develop the area has started. "The new New York Atlantic City!!!!!!" Whatever it is, it's snuffing out an old beauty. Something that was the visual conquest of all first year new york photography students and almost cliche, has suddenly become a vestige of exatley what it has always been, a beautiful and quirky breathe of the past. Now it begs to be photographed and remembered. My son couldn't understand why we thought it was better all closed down for the winter.

But the original Nathan's is open that day. And certainly Coney Island wouldn't be the same without that famous stand. Just the colors make you feel familiar there. I got a clam roll. Thats another thing you can't get from where I am. Fried clams are the thing here. In fact I forgot how popular clams are in the east. When the park is open there are clams on the halfshell everywhere. A walk on the beach and all around the antique signage brings back a time forgotten.

And afterwards we had Ukrainian food from Cafe Eurasia. Brighton Beach is right next to Coney Island. Russian food. Nothing fancy. Serious waitresses that put the food down in front of you with a bit of a wap on the table. The atmosphere is no frills as evening approaches this urban beach town diner. Pink curtains. Russian TV shows. Locals dining. These are serious peasant dishes. Chicken Keiv. Breaded Pork rolls with mushroom and white sauce. Simple perogi. Soups. Borscht. I did not pass up the borscht this time. A completely different style than the frothy version that came out earlier in the week. This Cafe Eurasia brand was brothey, light, lemony almost, hearty and hot. A great and authentic borscht I have not had in a long time. "Fried" chicken came to the table. It almost looked like a "poussin" it was so small. Delicately marinated with herbs it was pressed down and fried to a fantastic crispy finish. It was my favorite thing at the table. We also had a rather bland kasha of buckwheat. Like a side of rice. On its own it would have been wonderful with some butter for a rustic breakfast. With such a good spread on the table it was hard to make room.

What amounts to comfort food in New York though is fairly simple in its range sometimes. I am sad to say I did not reach the pinnacle of pizza as intended, and I'll again refer to what was years and years ago to me, when I did get to Johns Pizzeria in Greenwich Village. As we left Hells Kitchen one afternoon, happy to escape the building March 17th pandemonium of thousands of green-colored St. Pattys Day drunkards ready to parade and clog midtown, we stopped for a slice at Rays. Rays is funny, if anyone knows, there is an "original" Rays among hundreds, but know one knows where it is. Original or not it is not the best example of New York Pizza. (And in my humble opinion New Jersey Pizza is actually the best example New York Pizza to me. But thats only because I've had countless slices from near every damn micro-region all over the tri-state area.) Rays has a nice crust though, save we start talking about the water again. John's Pizzaria is actually the best. Best anywhere. This is no fooling and that IS the name to remember. Its like the Turkish delight of fables that stuff. Every element is perfect. It's so light and heavy at the same time I can eat a large portion, most of a pie and still not feel full. Its a miracle. Rich and delicious the body receives it as it receives water from the source. It's a total shame we didn't get down there. Another time certainly.

We left the city knowing only the surface was breached. It was a short visit. Just a small glimpse in a place we could eat in for lifetimes. Such is life. The cuisine in New York is absolutely the melting pot for the world, where excellent renditions of hundreds of regional cuisines can be found, in a way there, that no city in the world can equal. I spent years and years in New York and that area as a youth. I can just close my eyes and dream of that food. And much more of it. But regardless of anything I've said here, the truth is. I'm still just dreaming of that pastrami.