Old Style Jewish Delicatessens for Goyim (non-Jews).

The Bottom Line This cuisine is not so much about taste and smell as it is about memories and good times years ago.

There are only two places in the world where you could get real Jewish delicatessen--New York and Boston. I was fortunate enough to grow up in Boston 'cuz I hate the Yankees. Boston and New York style delis have much in common, i.e., counter help with sarcastic mouths, REAL half-sour pickles and pastrami.

Some of the differences are in the knishes (dumplings filled with meat, potatoes or groats, wrapped in a pie-crust type of dough and baked. No, you don't put them in soup--you eat them with a sandwich. New York knishes are huge: 1-1/2" thick, three inches across and weigh four pounds each. Well, maybe a pound and a half. Boston knishes are cigar-shaped, about two inches long with a more delicate and subtle flavor than the New York ones. Both are good and each has its place. However, I'm from Boston and that's the end of that subject.

Years ago (40s, 50s, 60s and into the 70s) there were several outstanding Jewish delicatessens in the Boston area. The first that comes to mind and my favorite was Max Andrews' on Blue Hill Ave. at the corner of Lawrence Ave., right next to Bookstein's Drug Store. More about this later.

Others included the New Yorker on Blue Hill Ave. in Mattapan, the G & G, two or three blocks down from the New Yorker and Jack and Marion's in Brookline. Please don't start with, "well, I used to like such-and-such a deli." I don't wanna hear it. This is my nostalgia piece and I'm naming the restaurants. You wanna name your own? Fine--write your own piece.

Max Andrews: small deli on Blue Hill Ave. You walked into the place on the black and white ceramic tiled floor. In the windows hung strings of bagels, loaves of hard salami and other meats. The first thing that hit you was the smell. OY!! It was hot pastrami cooking in water left over from the Roman baths, half-sour pickles that were crisp and delicious. The closest thing you can get to these nowadays is Klaussen's and while they're good, they're not like it used to wuz.

There was a long row of booths down the middle of the place and tables and chairs on the left side. The right side was devoted to the counter. And there stood Louie the counterman. Louie was king of all he surveyed, including you. He'd look at you when you came and ask sarcastically, "What is it with you, huh? A sixteen-year-old boy with no home. Stop hanging around here and go home to your mother." "But Louie, my mother doesn't make hot pastrami sandwiches like you do." "Of course not", he would respond, "she feeds your right and looks out for your health--I only want your money. So nu? What do you want already?"

We'd get the usual: my pal would get a hard salami on rye with a half-sour tomato and a Royal Crown. I'd get a hot pastrami on a roll with sauerkraut and a Coke. The hard salami had been sitting in the case all day waiting for us to come in. The pastrami had been soaking in the same water since Max Andrews opened the place and it had never been changed. Why change it? The pastrami was outstanding. If it ain't broke, don't fix it. We'd also get four meat knishes to split between us.

Understand this: the half-sour tomatoes (which I didn't care for but my buddy did) were green tomatoes that were quartered and had been soaking in brine since the Crimean War. The half-sour pickles had just reached the peak of their flavor. They came in a barrel and you could tell how good they were by the color: the darker the pickle, the better it was. "Stay away from those bright green ones--they taste like wet cucumbers!"

The sauerkraut was a delight in itself. It was not that chazzerai (Yiddish for junk) that comes in the can and is heated (feh!) and then eaten (only by Goyim). This was cold, sweet-sour, stored in short barrels with a few loose cranberries floating in the brine. They had to be for color 'cuz they sure didn't add anything to the flavor.

We put Gulden's mustard on the sandwiches (what's this Grey Poupon crap? We had real mustard) and began to feast. My mouth is watering right now from remembering the taste and smell of the food.

You could get full meals in there, too. Brisket with potatoes and a vegetable; corned beef and eggs or salami and eggs--TO DIE FOR! Fry the corned beef or salami in a pan, turn it over and as soon as you do, pour beaten eggs over it and cook until done. It's eaten it with ketchup. MAAA-MAAA! I want some now!

The menu board was the black board with the white, changeable letters that were never changed. Why change them? It's already perfect--don't mess with it.

In Mattapan, the G & G and the New Yorker were similar. The G & G was huge. You could get six Max Andrews' in there. Their toilet had a 25 watt light bulb in it and the walls and ceiling were painted bright, reflective silver. You walk in and go blind.

Food in both places was about the same as in Max Andrews. Same choices, same flavors, same smart-mouth countermen. The difference was that on a Friday or Saturday night you took your date there to show her off. If you didn't go there with your date and show her off that weekend, come Monday somebody would say to you, "So, what dog did you date this weekend? You couldn't bring her down to the G & G?"

The G & G catered to the younger kids while New Yorker was smaller and catered to an older crowd. Other than that, they were the same.

Jack and Marion's in Brookline was THE place to take a date if you were flush with money and wanted to impress here. The sandwiches were monstrously big and the waitresses had uniforms! The others not only didn't have a waitstaff, if you asked the counterman to bring your food to the table he'd throw it at you.

The only place in the entire South Shore area now that even faintly resembles those places is a restaurant in Cobb Corner in Stoughton called Maxie's. They have chopped liver, deli sandwiches, chicken soup, three kinds of knishes and, for those who can take all that salt, lox and whitefish.

If you want a taste of old Dorchester/Mattapan, go to Maxie's in Stoughton. It's not exactly what used to be but it's so close as to make me homesick.