It's my first time in New York and I'm sharing an Upper West Side apartment for a month with an Australian friend. Tonight I'm on dinner duty. I've promised to find something we haven't tried yet and, after a bit of research, take the subway downtown to the Lower East Side.
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On a small stretch of East Houston there are three possible places in which I hope to find what I'm looking for, even though I'm not entirely sure what that is. Katz's is a kosher-style delicatessen founded in 1888, where "that scene" from When Harry Met Sally was filmed. Yonah Schimmel Knish Bakery has been selling knishes to the neighbourhood since 1890. Russ & Daughters is another classic Jewish deli, though without seating. It is the first of the three I see.
Joel Russ immigrated to the United States in 1907 from a small village in what is now southern Poland. "Schlepping strings of Polish mushrooms on his shoulders", he saved for a pushcart, then a horse and wagon and in 1914 opened his first store, the Russ & Daughters website says. By then Russ was married with three daughters. In 1920 he moved around the corner, to where I'm standing, and called it J Russ National Appetizing Store.
I step inside. Three men in white overcoats serve a handful of customers, who all seem to leave, bags in hands, at the same time. From behind the long counter, the men look at me expectantly as realisation hits like a hunger pang: I don't recognise and can't pronounce most of what's in front of me.
I consider my options.
During the Great Depression, Joel Russ was faced with a decision too: sell the business or the house. He moved his family into a cramped apartment and changed the name above the shop door to Russ & Daughters. It was possibly the first business ever with "and daughters" in its name.
I try to channel Russ's chutzpah and, with a flush rising in my cheeks and the dazzling deli lights in my eyes, I slam $40 on the counter, confess to them "I'm not from around here" and ask for a good selection. They all smile. The youngest steps forward to fill a container with pickled herrings and onions in cream, which he tells me is a standard favourite of regulars. Then there's pickled lox, Swedish matjes, schmaltz fillets, sturgeon, sable, white king, wild Baltic salmon and bialy, which are like bagels but so much better. Beet, apple and herring salad, along with eggplant salad Roumanian, also become part of the package.
Joel Russ died in 1961 but some fourth-generation descendants, including a great-granddaughter, and dedicated long-time employees have continued. Russ & Daughters is now on the National Register of Historic Places.
As sweet things are added to my feast – chocolate babka and raspberry rugelach – a young man walks in the door. He's from the Baltics, he tells me in a strong accent, has been studying in New York for six months and is only just getting the chance to explore the city. He's ignorant about what is being sold here too. When I explain my buying tactics he turns to another white-coated man and says: "I'll have what she's having."
