Courtesy of my Main-Sandwich-Man-in-NYC JAF, and he is courteous from top to tip.
Kountry Katz
Dear Diary:
Two colleagues in an animated discussion. One, a native of Albania; the other, from Bangladesh.
Colleague No. 1: “I hear it’s the best in New York.”
Colleague No. 2: “No doubt about it. I never heard of it, let alone ate it, until I was taken there when I worked in that neighborhood.”
Colleague No. 1: “Someone said you get better service if you follow their rules.”
Colleague No. 2: “Definitely. Always order at the counter and always tip before you order and never ask for the lean. Never sit at the waiter service tables: that’s for the hicks.”
Subject matter: A pastrami sandwich at Katz’s. Gastronomic assimilation at its best.
Bob Stein
Eat a little pastrami at Katz’s and you are gonna be slick, all the way from your nose to your lap, top of your schnoz to the tip of your knees.
The Lunch Encounter 