Blame It on the Alcohol
A memory of Sammy’s Roumanian Steakhouse
Some restaurant closures hurt more than others. It’s not always about the food itself, although it’s often the key element. To a guy who has eaten at over 4,000 restaurants across six continents, the losses that sting most are the classics. Take NYC’s 21 Club, for example. Not the world’s finest food, but an incomparable feeling of being immersed in New York City Prohibition-era history. And a killer martini.
With more restaurant closures now than ever, we’re losing everything from local joints, the places that define a neighborhood, to the legendary establishments that define an era. I was particularly saddened by the recently announced closing of Sammy’s Roumanian Steakhouse on New York’s Lower East Side. Again, not because of the food, although it was pretty good, but because of the memories, the experience, and the memory of the experience.
Sammy’s describes itself as a place serving classic Jewish comfort food and vodka in a basement dining room studded with photos. It was semi-dingy, claustrophobic, cacophonous, and wonderful. It was a destination restaurant well-suited to a celebration for a large party. Truth be told, I had only gone twice in its 47-year run, both times for that precise purpose.
