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The most likely origin involves the use of a "bucket" (which also referred to a beam or yoke) used to hang animals upside down for slaughter. The term "bucket" in this context comes from the Old French word "bouet," meaning a catapult or balance, or the fact that raising a yoke on a pulley resembled a bucket being lifted. When the animal's death throes caused it to kick against this beam, the phrase "kick the bucket" came to be associated with death.
The Hall of Fame thoroughbred trainer H. Allen Jerkens did kick the bucket on Aqueduct's backstretch.
And while Allen is no longer with us, it's not because he kicked the bucket on the backstretch. A filly Jerkens had entered in a race had just done poorly. Very poorly, and Allen was so mad he kicked the water bucket on the backstretch after the race. After that, I don't know if that filly went on to eventually win, but Jerkens went on to many victories in his Hall of Fame career.
I much prefer "checking all the boxes." Jeopardy the other night used a picture of checked boxes as a clue. It was a low dollar clue. Too easy.
I've always wanted to go to Katz's Deli on the lower Eastside. This is not because I wanted to be where Meg Ryan famously demonstrates to Billy Crystal in the 1989 film, "When Harry Met Sally," a fake orgasm at the deli's table to prove to him that the sounds and thrusting gestures she's making can mimic a real orgasm and that his male ego thinks he's never had a woman "fake it" with him, but if these sounds sound familiar, it's quite possible she's faking it. Point proven. Billy is chagrined. If he had been developing a hard-on, it was rapidly shrinking.
Estelle Reiner, the director Rob Reiner's mother and Carl Reiner's wife, is sitting at nearby table drops the mic when the waiter asks her what will she have when she replies, "I'll have what she's having." A now immortal movie line.
Blarney Stones with steam tables used to offer fresh sliced corned beef, pastrami, even brisket. They were a de facto Jewish deli without meaning to be. I always used to get my fix there. But the Blarney Stones have disappeared along with their steam tables.
I've gotten reasonably good pastrami or corned beef at diners. Saratoga racetrack has a Carnegie franchise outlet that provides a very good deli sandwich that I've enjoyed when at the track. Hopefully there will be a similar offering at the new Belmont when it opens in the fall of 2026. Hopefully is the operational word.
Likewise, a decent pastrami sandwich can be had at Citi Field, home of the Mets. Not a doorstopper for $22, but good enough. In fact I enjoyed my last one there better than at Katz's.
At the food court at Moynihan Train Hall in Manhattan there is a Pastrami Queen outlet that I've yet to sample. Junior's in Brooklyn is also good, along with maybe the cheesecake you'll ever have. I used to work near Junior's. I miss the outlet they once had in the lower level at Grand Central Terminal, although, there is a full-scale restaurant in Times Square at 49th Street and Broadway.
I wasn't prepared to be confronted with a line at Katz's to get in last Thursday at 1:00 p.m. What? I'm not much for waiting on lines, particularly to eat. In high school I never waited on the hot food line. The cold food sandwich line had no waiting. I ate tuna fish sandwiches all through high school.
I nearly turned around, but that would have meant I wasted a MetroCard trip, even if I do get a Senior discount. I planned to wait 20 minutes. I wanted to see movement. If not, I'm out of there.
Well, the red topped sock cap at the head of the line moved, and suddenly, without waiting too long, we all moved through the door. Inside? Bedlam.
It was as if I was surrounded by angry bees. Everybody was buzzing around. I was handed the expected "ticket." I'm not sure what control this adds to running the place. There is no serial number on what looks like a hat check ticket.
Years and years ago thee was a cafeteria in Times Square called Hector's. When you entered they gave you a ticket with an array of dollar and cent amounts. As you ordered food from the counter, the worker punched the amount of your selection. As you moved to another section, and maybe added dessert, the worker now punched what the new amount of your check was. When you exited you presented the check to the cashier by the door. It was somewhat like what is now an old Thruway ticket. There were no amounts on the Katz's ticket.
Once inside, there were more lines. No one was giving directions, but I figured you ordered food at the counter, (several lines) and took your tray to any seat you could find. There weren't many empty seats, and if you found seating you'd likely be sharing a table.
I wanted waiter service, which I assumed was this other long line. No directions. It turns out I was on the right line for table service, and without meaning to, I cut the line and found myself toward the front. No one objected.
At the front, someone was there to direct you to a table in a certain section, which is not very big. Overall, at this point, I haven't really waited too long for anything.
I was directed to a two-person deuce table. My waiter. Marty. it turns out, arrived fast, and since I knew what I wanted there was no need to go through the rigamarole of looking at a menu: "Pastrami rye, coleslaw, Cel-Ray soda."
A mountain of coleslaw arrived with a can of the soda and a paper cup with ice. Everything's good so far. I could now absorb the place a bit.
The workers all have black T-shirts on with Katz's name and phone number. Some shirts have the saying: "Send a salami to your boy in the Army." There is an old sign hanging from the ceiling you can see when you enter that says this. The sign looks like it's from WW II. Other shirts say: "When Sally Met Harry," an obvious allusion to the movie.
The 1989 movie didn't make Katz's famous. It did remind people at the time of its existence, but by the looks of things, there's no need to advertise. Katz's has been operating since 1888, NYC's oldest deli.
In the 1960s Pete's Tavern on 18th Street and Irving Place had green awnings. Pete's, as any loyal reader knows, was a block from the family flower shop and a place I passed often.
When I was 11 or so delivering flowers I would see that the awning said: "The Tavern O Henry Made Famous."
At the time, I didn't know O Henry was a writer famous for writing some of his famous short stories from a booth in the front at Pete's. I thought O Henry was somehow the name of the tavern. As a kid, the wording confused me.
I'm now fully aware that Katz's is full of tourists. The place must be on a recommended list for sampling New York City via the deli experience. The movie "When Harry Met Sally" was in 1989. I'm doubting most of the restaurant's customers have seen the movie. They might have heard about it. The movie is now so old it might soon appear on Turner Classic Movies (TCM).
My mind is envisioning staff T-shirts that below the Katz name appears the phrase: "Deli Made Famous by a Fake Orgasm." I guess not.
Overall, the place looks a bit shabby. Crowded, but shabby. Almost dingy. But, with a stampede of people willing to come to your door, I guess it's hard to close the place for any length of time to spruce the joint up a bit. Time is money.
My sandwich arrives, and it is as expected. A mountain of pastrami between two slices of thick rye bread. I slide a fork under half the sandwich in order to help lift it. My version of a fork lift.
It is impossible for the bread to hold all the meat back. I wind up using my fingers and a fork to finish it off. It's good. But not the best pastrami I ever tasted. A bite dry, and not that seasoned, but certainly worth the trip. I wasn't thirsty afterwards.
I ask the waiter, "When are you NOT busy?" He says, "Now."
I ask about buying the mustard, and get two jars for $5.95 each. Deli mustard is the best. Sitting down I was disappointed that the mustard at the table was in a squeezable dispenser. You can get the mustard out, but it's not the same as slathering it all over with a knife, rather than squirting it. Maybe it's a sanitary thing.
Check out. The waiter writes my total on the stub I got at the door and tells me where to pay if by credit card, or cash.
I pay with a credit card and get my receipt stapled to the ticket stub. On the way out they collect my ticket stub and give me back my credit card receipt. I guess the money control comes in there a bit.
That would not be for me.
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