Going to Sammy’s Roumanian Steakhouse is like going to a wedding where the waiter insults you, the DJ calls you out with bad jokes and the food just keeps coming. It’s a blast.
Sammy’s serves old-style classic Jewish cuisine, and the menu was so full of things we wanted to try, we didn’t quite know what to do. But with a table of 10 and a big menu, but our waiter set us straight: we got the family feast.
You start with a bottle of vodka. Frozen in a block of ice.
And a few pickles and green tomatoes.
And several other relishy items:
We also asked for some crappy wine, but the waiter said all he had was shitty wine. So we got that.
Here’s the star of the show, and the reason we went to Sammy’s: Irene. Birthday girl!
Honestly, the chicken liver mousse, made before our eyes, was To. Die. For.
This is called kishka, and it’s a sausage of sorts made of meat, mostly offal, and grain, which made it sweet:
It might turn you off if you’re squeamish, but it was really good!
Sausage, which our waiter affectionally referred to as “doggy dicks.” Nice.
It’s actually called karnatzlack, and is an Eastern European Jewish specialty made of beef, veal and garlic with seltzer and baking soda to give it lift:
Stuffed cabbage, which was terrific:
Everyone enjoying our feast:
We also had steak, salmon and veal cutlets, which I somehow neglected to get close-ups of.
More vodka, why yes, thank you Lynn!
Down there was our DJ.
A little sampling of his musical stylings:
Kris loved the vintage, mis-matched plates:
After enough vodka, we started dancing:
Yes, a fine time was had by all.
The 411 on Sammy’s Roumanian Steakhouse: 157 Chrystie St., 212-673-0330.
