The best New York delis

This cavernous cafeteria is a repository of New York history—glossies of celebs spanning the past century crowd the walls, and the classic Jewish deli offerings are nonpareil. Start with a crisp-skinned, all-beef hot dog for $5.95. Then flag down a meat cutter and order a legendary sandwich. The brisket sings with horseradish, and the thick-cut pastrami stacked high between slices of rye is the stuff of dreams. Everything tastes better with a glass of the hoppy house lager; if you’re on the wagon, make it a Dr. Brown’s.

After the 2006 shuttering of the deli’s original East Village location, Jeremy Lebewohl, the founder’s nephew, reopened the place at this misleading Murray Hill address, menu intact. Most things are as good as ever: Schmaltz-laden chopped liver is whipped to a mousselike consistency, and the deli meats, including juicy pastrami and corned beef, skillfully straddle the line between fatty and lean. Good news for wistful aficionados: The decor, from the Hebraic logo to the blue-white-and-brown tiles and celeb headshots made the trip uptown, too.

Raised on Jewish-food landmarks like Barney Greengrass and Zabar’s, brother-owners and Upper West Side natives Zach and Alex Frankel (former chef at Jack’s Wife Freda and half of Brooklyn synth-pop duo Holy Ghost!, respectively) preserve the traditions of their lox-peddling elders with menschy earnestness. There are no revisionist latkes or molecular-gastro matzo balls here—just the deli staples they, and New York, grew up on,like malt-sweet, hand-rolled bagels and smoked fish (kippered salmon, sable).

Despite decor that Jewish mothers might call “schmutzy,” this legendary deli is a madhouse at breakfast and brunch. Enormous egg platters come with the usual choice of smoked fish (such as Nova Scotia salmon or house-cured gravlax). Prices are high but portions are large—and that goes for the sandwiches, too. (Think $30 for a sturgeon and sable on rye.) Or try the less costly dishes: matzo-ball soup, creamy egg salad or cold pink borscht served in a glass jar.

It’s a boastful name but this two-decades-old Upper East Side counter has the bona fides to back it up. Beyond the fall-apart tender pastrami, the deli's overstuffed sandwiches include smoked turkey, hard salami and beef tongue.

Back when Joseph Liebman first opened this Riverdale, Bronx deli in 1953, it was one of nearly 100 Jewish delicatessens in the borough. Seven decades later, it's one of two old-timers left. (Loeser's on W 231st is the other.) The luncheonette–rigged with Formica tabletops, padded green booths, and counter cases showcasing hulks of brisket and kosher franks–was taken over by the Dekel family in the '80s, but the menu hasn't changed over time, offering cold-cut platters, hot open-faced sandwiches and pastrami piled on rye.

This old-school Jewish deli—a Bed-Stuy institution since 1981—changed hands in 2008, but you can still find the original's legendary sandwiches. The stars of the menu are the pastrami, brisket and corned beef, which you can get piled high on a roll or rye with a side of brisket-drippings gravy, but there's also sammies stuffed with grilled chicken, turkey, hamburger or Philly-style cheesesteak. 

You’ll find all of your cured-meat classics at this kosher-certified south Brooklyn stalwart—which opened back in 1974—from hot brisket to hard salami, as well as more newfangled options like a PLT (that would be bacon-like burnt pastrami slices with lettuce and tomato on rye). 

The matzo ball soup at this Jewish delicatessen is dead-on—a spongy orb submerged in a rich broth (offered, as it should be, with or without noodles), and the sandwiches are as flavorful and enormous as anything at Carnegie or Katz’s. The folks at Sarge’s are the real thing, from the appropriately gruff-but-friendly waiters to the not-insignificant number of old folks shuffling in. By the time you’ve finished your meal, you won’t be hungry for days.

Knishes, hot pastrami, chopped liver—you’ll find deli classics and much more at Ben’s, proud sponsor of an annual matzo-ball-eating contest. Half an overstuffed sandwich, served on soft, tangy rye or wheat, is thicker than War and Peace, and the beef, turkey and veggie burgers are bursting out of their buns. There are also steaks, veal chops and chicken livers, plus lighter choices, such as a Caesar salad.