New York State of Mind

In another time and place, there would have been a grill at the New York Deli. As it is, all of the sandwiches are cold (unless you ask to have one put in the microwave). The chicken salad is among the better ones, even though there's a bit too much cabbage and mayo (it tastes as if cole slaw might have been a primary ingredient), while the tongue is a little chewy and gamy (mustard helps). But the chubby, juicy kosher hot dogs are delicious, even without condiments.

So there weren't any matzo balls, but there was a rich, soothing cheesecake, cut in an unglamorous square from a big rectangle tray in the display case and served on a sheet of waxed paper with a plastic fork. I lingered over every crumb.

These are the delicacies that the New York Bakery and Delicatessen has been selling since it moved to this location. In the 1940s, the Kansas City directory listed 67 delicatessens (including the Milwaukee Deli, the Chicago Deli and the Cincinnati Deli). Only a handful of real delis remain today -- and I'm not counting the ersatz "deli counters" at supermarkets, where presliced meats and cheeses are drying out in the refrigerated cases. Or the glorified "subway" shops, which don't know the difference between salami and sauerkraut.

The New York Bakery and Delicatessen is less New York than the name implies, and it would be fabulous if more interesting hot foods were available. But as a comfortable neighborhood place to gather for a thick sandwich, a soda and a smoke, it's one of the last of its breed. And if the place isn't as new, hip or stylish as its Johnson County rivals, who gives a knish?