My big sis with a low blood sugar can be scary as fuck.
There's usually a gap between two and three hours to feed her - she's a pretty tiny person and masters the method of many small meals that I've attempted for years, but that also means that throwing her some crackers and a coffee at 7 am will not make for sustainability until noon.
Walking through the East Village, she was getting pretty hungry but put up a very brave face as we were searching every street from Bowery to East 11th in order to find something edible. Let's face it, the East Village is mainly inhabited by the cool kids, and the cool kids are barely up at 11 if at all and they'll definitely not be in fit shape to serve anyone food at that stage.
Then I spotted Katz Delicatessen. This 19th century icon and survivor of two world wars was an early entry on The List and I decided to seize the opportunity to tick yet another box.
Oh, if only things ever went that smoothly. After quietly admitting to myself that corned beef on rye will never be my idea of a delicious meal, especially not before regular people's lunch time, my sister not so discretely acknowledged the same thing. There was the disgusted glance at the sandwiches people were clearly queuing up for, a very pouty lip, a series of repeated head shakes and panicked stares towards the exit.
At least I was in there, that counts right? Kosher sandwich or no kosher sandwich.
In the end, we ended up having Mexican brunch. Granted, less iconic - but they did have Bloody Marys and home fries.
Clearly deli is not short for delicious.
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| Iconic evidently doesn't equal delicious. |
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| Send a salami to your boy in the army? |
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| Bloody Mary induced happy face |
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