You walk in and someone hands you a small, rectangular slip of paper. It looks like a relic from 1888. Honestly, if you lose that ticket, you’re in trouble. It’s not just a receipt; it’s your lifeblood inside Katz Deli Lower East Side.
The air smells like brine, steam, and a century of wood-smoke. It’s loud. It’s chaotic. People are yelling, knives are hitting cutting boards with a rhythmic thwack, and tourists are standing in the middle of the floor looking absolutely terrified. But that’s the charm. If it were quiet, it wouldn't be Katz’s.
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The Ticket System is No Joke
Let’s get the scary part out of the way. When you enter the doors at 205 East Houston Street, a security guard or host will hand you a ticket. Do not lose it. Even if you don’t buy a single crumb of rye bread, you must hand that ticket back to the cashier on your way out. If you lose it, they’ll hit you with a $50 fine (sometimes more depending on how grumpy the staff is feeling that day).
It's a system that dates back to the deli's founding by the Iceland brothers, long before the Katz family took over in the early 1900s. The grid of numbers on the ticket corresponds to old-school prices. It’s basically a paper analog of a modern POS system, and it works perfectly in this specific brand of "organized chaos."
How to Order Like You Live Here
Most people see the massive line and panic. Don't.
There are several lines. Each cutter—the guy behind the counter with the big knife—has his own line. The one closest to the door is usually the longest because people are like sheep and stop at the first thing they see. Walk further in. You’ll find shorter lines toward the back.
When you get to the front, have some cash ready. See that little plastic cup on the counter? That’s for tips. Slide a few bucks in there before you even say hello. Why? Because the cutter is about to become your best friend.
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While they’re carving your meat, they’ll usually slide a few slivers of warm, fatty pastrami onto a small plate for you to try. It’s the "cutter’s tax," and it’s the best bite of food in New York City. Eat it with your fingers. Don't ask for a fork.
The Pastrami Myth vs. Reality
Everyone talks about the pastrami. It's legendary. But what most people don't realize is the sheer amount of time that goes into one sandwich.
Commercial pastrami is usually "pumped" with chemicals and cured in about 36 hours. At Katz Deli Lower East Side, the process takes 30 days. It’s a slow-brined, slow-smoked, slow-boiled labor of love. The meat is the "navel" cut, which is fattier and more flavorful than the brisket used for corned beef.
"We only select the best cuts of beef... Our finished product can take up to a full 30 days to cure." — Official Katz's Records.
The Great Debate: Pastrami vs. Corned Beef
- Pastrami: Rubbed with a secret blend of spices (heavy on the black pepper and garlic), smoked, then steamed. It’s the smoky, peppery king of the menu.
- Corned Beef: Salt-cured and boiled. No smoke. No spice rub. It’s cleaner, saltier, and more traditional for those who find the pastrami too intense.
- The Pro Move: Order the "Half and Half" or go with a friend and swap halves.
And please, for the love of the Lower East Side, do not ask for mayo. It’s a faux pas. Stick to the spicy brown mustard. If you want to get fancy, ask for "juicy" (which means more fat) or "burnt ends" if they have them available.
Beyond the "When Harry Met Sally" Table
Yes, there is a sign. It hangs from the ceiling and says: "Where Harry Met Sally... hope you have what she had! Enjoy!"
It marks the spot where Meg Ryan filmed that iconic scene in 1989. While it’s fun for a photo op, the deli has so much more history than just one Hollywood moment. The walls are a literal museum of 20th-century New York. Look at the photos. You'll see everyone from Bill Clinton to Michael Jordan to the late Rob Reiner, who was a regular and a close friend of the Dell family (the current owners).
Send a Salami to Your Boy in the Army
You’ll see this slogan everywhere. It started during World War II when the three sons of the owners—Willy Katz’s son Lenny and his partners' sons—were all serving overseas. The family started shipping salamis to them, and it turned into a nationwide campaign.
They still do it today. You can literally walk up to the counter and have a hard salami shipped to a military base anywhere in the world. It’s one of those rare traditions that hasn't been corporate-washed into oblivion.
Survival Tips for the 2026 Visitor
The neighborhood has changed. The Lower East Side used to be the epicenter of Jewish immigrant life, packed with tenements and pushcarts. Now, it's mostly boutique hotels and $18 cocktail bars. Katz’s is the last of its kind.
Because of that, it gets packed.
- Timing: If you go on a Saturday at 1:00 PM, you’re going to wait an hour. Try Tuesday at 3:00 PM or late at night. They’re open until the early morning hours on weekends.
- Seating: There are two sections. The right side is "Self-Service." You grab your food and fight for a table. The left side (usually) has "Table Service" with waiters. If you’re tired and don't mind a 15%–20% tip for the convenience, go left.
- The Sides: The matzoh ball soup is solid, but the knishes are the sleeper hit. They are dense, square, and could probably be used as a blunt-force weapon. Get the potato one.
- Drinks: You have to get a Dr. Brown’s soda. Cel-Ray (celery soda) is the "local" choice, but if you can’t handle liquid celery, the Black Cherry or Cream Soda is the way to go.
Why It Still Matters
People love to complain that Katz’s is too expensive. A pastrami sandwich will set you back about $28–$30 these days. Is that a lot for a sandwich? Yeah.
But you aren't just paying for the meat. You’re paying for a 30-day curing process that most businesses abandoned decades ago because it wasn't "efficient." You're paying for the fact that they haven't sold the land to a developer to build luxury condos, even though that lot is worth tens of millions.
It’s a piece of living history.
When you sit at those long communal tables, you might be next to a billionaire from uptown or a college kid who saved up for a week to eat here. Everyone is messy. Everyone has mustard on their face. It’s the great New York equalizer.
Actionable Next Steps
If you're planning a trip, don't just wing it. Check their website or social media for holiday hours, as they sometimes shift. If you aren't in NYC, they ship nationwide via their own site and Goldbelly—the "Best of New York" package is usually the most reliable way to get the full experience at home.
Bring cash for the cutters, keep your ticket in your pocket (seriously, don't put it on the tray where it can get soggy), and order your meat "juicy." That is the only way to truly experience the Lower East Side's most iconic institution.