Pastrami

"Meg Ryan wasn't faking it," says the Zagat Survey. Her famous scene with Billy Crystal in the movie When Harry Met Sally. . . was filmed at Katz's Delicatessen on New York's Lower East Side. To mark the very spot where she sat, there's a paper arrow on a string hanging from the ceiling. It's easy to understand Ryan's passion. Katz's pastrami on rye is just about as good as it gets. The sandwich is the ultimate New York deli experience in what is considered one of the city's preeminent delicatessens.

Passion for pastrami We all get something from our ancestors. From my grandfather the bus driver, I get an appreciation for pastrami, the peppery cousin of corned beef. My grandmother and I would meet him with a sandwich at his noontime stop in Wynnefield. If only he could have lived to see the wave of New Yorkers revamping and opening such delis as Kibitz, Famous 4th Street, and now Hershel's East Side Deli. Hershel's starts with a "navel" cut of beef; rubs on spices and seasonings - cracked black pepper, coriander seed and powdered garlic - and cooks it for 18 hours.

Pushed into a corner, I would have to confess that the best pastrami that I have ever tasted was at the Carnegie Deli on 7th Avenue, just off Columbus Circle in New York. I hate to admit that. New Yorkers sometimes tend to be so pompous. Many of them think that nothing of any superlative worth exists west of New Jersey. When it comes to pastrami, they may be right. In many markets and delicatessens around the country, I find "pastrami" made from all manner of meat cuts. Some I've seen is made from the brisket of beef, some from the "bottom round" or "eye-of-round.

"How much longer till we get there? I'm hungry! " It's a backseat refrain my kids have perfected - even on the relatively short trip to the Shore. It's a good thing that Mr. Bill's, the classic custard stand and deli grill with the three-story-high huckster statue out front (and sandwiches nearly as tall), is perched halfway to Atlantic City. This Winslow landmark has seen a half-dozen owners in its half-century, but found its latest groove under the previous steward, deli-master Russ Cowan, who passed it on to current owner Joe Radano two years ago. Radano has diligently maintained the Cowan formula of super-sized portions and old-school scratch cooking, from the huge hot reubens and football-sized eclairs to soft-serve made from real custard.

Paul Klein had been in the deli business for quite some time. One slow, maybe 16-hour day, when he found a few spare moments to really put it all in perspective, he realized it had been more than 30 years. Which was a lot of chopped liver. What most people would think of as a job had become a lifestyle filled with demanding hours and overwhelming pressures. A little more than a year ago, he decided to ease his life a bit, and open a deli-restaurant in Center City. He calls it Pumpernick's.

There's a war going on out there. The yuppies, armed with breast of quail in pink peppercorn sauce and dandy airs, are lining up on the lean side of the schmaltz line. The - what shall we call them? - puppies (passionate urban pastrami-lovers) are still methodically munching away on the other side. When the final crumbs are laid to rest, will quiche be out and salami and eggs in? Will watercress soup replace chicken noodle with matzo balls as first choice for the ill and wounded?

What's this? A bar in a deli? A piano in a deli? Prompt, friendly service - in a deli? Whatever happened to . . . tradition? The Broadway Restaurant and Bar is a dolled-up deli in the Bellevue hotel- shopping complex, one flight down from Broad Street. Show posters on the walls, an upright Yamaha piano that plays when someone pops in a floppy disc, and New York deli food, some of it at New York prices. Plus beers, wines by the glass, and Dom Perignon at $95 a bottle, should you desire a spot of bubbly with your brisket-on-rye.

Simply reading the menu at the Short Hills Restaurant & Delicatessen, in Cherry Hill, can be a challenge. More than 10 colorfully illustrated pages describe a variety of foods, and just when you think you have sorted it all out, a separate typed sheet of specials materializes. Volume is the operative word here. The menu could be done in volumes: Volume 1 might list sandwiches; Volume 2, full-course dinners; Volume 3, breakfast; and so on. Volume also stands for plates overflowing with huge quantities of food, and deli meats thickly packed between slices of bread, creating sandwiches that look like someone trying to stuff a 40-inch waist into into size-38 trousers.

FOR SOME, a life-defining moment might come at a cafe on Paris' Left Bank, or along the surf on Maui's Ho'okipa Beach, or while standing at the Field of Dreams in Dyersville, Iowa. For Alan Richman, though, that moment was when his mother suggested he try pastrami, instead of the corned beef, at the Chuckwagon in Elkins Park. "I so liked the corned beef that I hadn't come up with a compelling reason to gamble on anything else," Richman writes in his just-released food memoir, "Fork It Over" (Harper Collins, $24.95)

2 pounds young or baby bunch carrots (peeled baby carrots can be used if necessary) 4 tablespoons olive oil 2 teaspoons sherry vinegar 2 tablespoons Montreal Steak Seasoning 1/2 teaspoon ground clove 2 teaspoons salt 2 teaspoons black pepper 2 teaspoons crushed fresh garlic 12-ounce can of garbanzo beans, drained 6 ounces canned or jarred sauerkraut, with some of its juice 2 tablespoons chopped...

"God. Country. Corned Beef. " Now that's a slogan I can stand behind at Schlesinger's, the Locust Street deli that real estate mogul Alan Domb converted from the Kibbitz Room several months ago, where there's been more than a name change (now an ode to Domb's mother's family.) Hymie's owner Louis Barson was brought in to manage, prices were lowered, and the squishy old bread has been replaced with more substantial rye from Kaplan's. The big pickle bar and sassy Sy Ginsburg pastrami remain (thank goodness)

"How much longer till we get there? I'm hungry! " It's a backseat refrain my kids have perfected - even on the relatively short trip to the Shore. It's a good thing that Mr. Bill's, the classic custard stand and deli grill with the three-story-high huckster statue out front (and sandwiches nearly as tall), is perched halfway to Atlantic City. This Winslow landmark has seen a half-dozen owners in its half-century, but found its latest groove under the previous steward, deli-master Russ Cowan, who passed it on to current owner Joe Radano two years ago. Radano has diligently maintained the Cowan formula of super-sized portions and old-school scratch cooking, from the huge hot reubens and football-sized eclairs to soft-serve made from real custard.

FOR SOME, a life-defining moment might come at a cafe on Paris' Left Bank, or along the surf on Maui's Ho'okipa Beach, or while standing at the Field of Dreams in Dyersville, Iowa. For Alan Richman, though, that moment was when his mother suggested he try pastrami, instead of the corned beef, at the Chuckwagon in Elkins Park. "I so liked the corned beef that I hadn't come up with a compelling reason to gamble on anything else," Richman writes in his just-released food memoir, "Fork It Over" (Harper Collins, $24.95)

"Meg Ryan wasn't faking it," says the Zagat Survey. Her famous scene with Billy Crystal in the movie When Harry Met Sally. . . was filmed at Katz's Delicatessen on New York's Lower East Side. To mark the very spot where she sat, there's a paper arrow on a string hanging from the ceiling. It's easy to understand Ryan's passion. Katz's pastrami on rye is just about as good as it gets. The sandwich is the ultimate New York deli experience in what is considered one of the city's preeminent delicatessens.

A beautiful roast turkey makes a magnificent centerpiece for Thanksgiving dinners, though depending on our ethnic backgrounds we might accompany it with lasagna, spaetzle, tamales or fried rice. There is a lot more to turkey, however, than the once- or twice-a-year holiday bird. Chefs and consumers are starting to discover how versatile these birds can be. Turkey consumption has more than doubled over the last 25 years because people now are using turkey parts for their recipes, rather than limiting themselves to buying the whole bird.

Deli has been very, very good to Bob Koch. It has not only been his bread and butter for the past 34 years, it has been his life. By 8:30 a.m., six days a week, he slips his key into the beat-up lock of the narrow, cramped quarters of the legendary Koch's Deli & TakeOut shop at 4309 Locust St., and he doesn't leave till after 7. Chopping whitefish and chicken liver. Slicing tongue. Stacking double-deckers made of corned beef, pastrami, turkey, Swiss, sauerkraut and coleslaw.

Paul Klein had been in the deli business for quite some time. One slow, maybe 16-hour day, when he found a few spare moments to really put it all in perspective, he realized it had been more than 30 years. Which was a lot of chopped liver. What most people would think of as a job had become a lifestyle filled with demanding hours and overwhelming pressures. A little more than a year ago, he decided to ease his life a bit, and open a deli-restaurant in Center City. He calls it Pumpernick's.

Simply reading the menu at the Short Hills Restaurant & Delicatessen, in Cherry Hill, can be a challenge. More than 10 colorfully illustrated pages describe a variety of foods, and just when you think you have sorted it all out, a separate typed sheet of specials materializes. Volume is the operative word here. The menu could be done in volumes: Volume 1 might list sandwiches; Volume 2, full-course dinners; Volume 3, breakfast; and so on. Volume also stands for plates overflowing with huge quantities of food, and deli meats thickly packed between slices of bread, creating sandwiches that look like someone trying to stuff a 40-inch waist into into size-38 trousers.