Why Eisenberg's Makes People Feel Good

Eating lunch at Eisenberg's Sandwich Shop always fills me with a particularly New Yorky sense of well-being. Everyone around me seems to be content and chipper as well. I thought about this recently as I sat at the counter and munched my BLT. Here are some of the reasons why I think this is:

*Eisenberg's has remarkably high ceilings. The place is airy. With the roof not crushing down upon you, your head (and mind) feels free and unburdened.

*Eisenberg's is always packed. This contributes to a happy metropolitan buzz about the place. It's not a din, because you can easily talk above it. It's the buzz of urban worker bees.

*The owner is always there, hovering near the cash register. Thus, you feel he cares. Every diner wants to feel cares for.

*The counter staff always takes your order right away, and part of that order (the drink, the soup, the fries) usually arrives within 60 seconds.

*It's a narrow place, and therefore, democratic. You can see everyone and everyone can see you. No one's sitting at the best table, because there is no best table.

*It's cheap. You do not part with too much money.

*No one is wearing the wrong thing here. Jeans. A suit and tie. It all works.

*The staff allows you to tell the cashier what you had, as opposed to presenting you with a check that proves what you had. Thus, you feel trusted and ever-so-slightly empowered.

Hot Tongue Is Hot

Checking back in at Eisenberg's Sandwich Shop—where the #9 sandwich, "The Spitzer," (hot tongue on rye), has been on offer since our former Governor landed in the soup—I was a big surprised to see the sign and sandwich still in evidence. Haven't we moved on to the next news cycle by now?

I inquired. Apparently the sandwich is "very popular," according to the staff. Hm. Maybe some good can come out of this mess after all.

Too Funny

From Eater. New Yorkers read the news, roll with the punches, and then sit down and eat a sandwich.

Tater Tot Latkes at Eisenberg's

Stopped by Eisenberg's Sandwich Shop the other day. Always worth a visit, if only to soak in the atmosphere. I didn't expect them to be doing anything special for Hanukkah. But the owner, who's roughly the size of a mountain, and some guy at the register we're raving about the new latkes they we're trying out on the menu. Latkes at Eisenberg's? That's gotta be good, no? So I ordered.

What I got was unexpected. They were "mini-latkes" I was told. What they looked like were tater tots that had been cut down to size. That's what they tasted like, too. Now, I like tater tots. They got me through many a school lunch. But when I order latkes, I want latkes: flat, round potato and onion patties that are a little rough around the edges. Latkes, these weren't. The owner talked about getting in some big latkes soon. Let's hope so. Let's also hope he starts invested in homemade latkes, not the frozen kind. A place like Eisenberg's deserves to have the best latkes.

Also ordered a chocolate egg cream. Delish.

Tuna Salad Lives on in Flatiron

Sometime the dailies, in their munificence, decide good news is news also.

In today's Metro section, The New York Times helpfully notified folks that Eisenberg's Sandwich Shop has been saved from Corcoran and the other devils of real estate. A former patron of the preserved-in-amber lunch counter, which sits just a stone's throw from the Flatiron building, decided to hop behind the counter and buy the business, rather than see it turn paws up. Josh Konecky is the modern saint's name (all hail) and, lord preserve us, he has an 18-year lease. So we won't have to worry about being without "The Best Tuna Sandwich in New York" until 2024.

Why, in these odious times, would a landlord do such a thing when he could easily welcome another Sephora? The Times' description of the man offers a clue. His wife runs a Russian bookstore in the space above Eisenberg's. Obviously, the landlord is an impractical man with a soft spot for unprofitable niche businesses. Plus, he gets to eat lunch at the Sandwich Shop every day for only $2.



Speaking of sandwich shops, does anyone know why the Andrews Coffee Shop is fast disappearing from the Manhattan landscape? Once, they were on every other corne south of 23rd Street. Now, every week another one is boarded up. These places were never classics, but they were reliable, cheap and unpretentious. When I made $18,000 a year at my first job in 1990, I ate at Andrew's at least once a week. It was the only sit-down restaurant I could afford. Perhaps they've been banned by the culture police for being hopefully un-fabulous.