The Best Take-Home Ever.
On Locust Street in Philadelphia, about half way between 43rd and 44th streets, sits a small shop. One window and the door are all you see from the sidewalk. That and the sign hanging overhead - Koch's deli.
When you walk up the two steps and enter through the screen door, the space inside seems cramped. A counter, followed by a meat fridge, stretch along your left. A rack of chips followed by a drink cooler stretch along your right. There is barely enough room for two people to stand side by side. The length of the store can hold maybe a dozen people before you hit the back counter and kitchen. And most days, there are more than a dozen people waiting for their turn to order some of the biggest subs available in Philadelphia. But this is a place that you don't mind waiting in, even if it takes 45 minutes to get your food.
Koch's is more than a deli. It's an experience. Whoever is at the counter (in my day, it was Bob Koch. Now, with his passing, it's someone I don't know) will heckle and joke with whoever comes through the door. Many times, he remembered faces and orders. As you waited, you'd get to hear the jokes and the conversation - sometimes between the patrons, sometimes between Bob and whoever he was serving.
You could take your time to look over the large sandwich board hanging behind the counter, trying to decide which you would try this time. Would you go for one of the many specialty sandwiches like the PCOM special with it's corned beef, chicken salad, roast beef and muenster? That would cover lunch and dinner there, being so large. Or would you dial it back a bit and order a crispy BLT? And once you've made that decision, you need to decide which of the scrumptious dessert, tempting you from above the meat cooler, you'll bring home.
As you chat with your line neighbors, something will be passed along the (often horseshoe shaped) line. A pile of meat or several slice of cheese, free samples to keep you from getting too hungry while you wait. What makes the rounds depends on the whim of the man at the cash register. But you can guarantee that it will be good, whatever he decides.
Finally, you'll put in your order and watch it put together with no further input from you. The workers have a great memory for what you want on or off your sandwich. And as you get closer to the register, whoever is there will turn their attention to you. If you're new, they'll get to know you with easy conversation. If you're a familiar face at Koch's, you may find yourself asked about things going on in your life. I still remember as the wedding day got nearer, Bob joking with us about the upcoming day. He would even slide in a piece of cake for us on occasion, no charge.
Once the sandwiches, pickles, sides, drinks and anything else you choose to order have been slid into a large paper bag, you pay with a smile. Pricey? Yeah. But worth it. Then you say good-bye for another day, week, month and head home with your largess. You may not be able to have a seat to enjoy your food, but you will enjoy it all the same.
When you walk up the two steps and enter through the screen door, the space inside seems cramped. A counter, followed by a meat fridge, stretch along your left. A rack of chips followed by a drink cooler stretch along your right. There is barely enough room for two people to stand side by side. The length of the store can hold maybe a dozen people before you hit the back counter and kitchen. And most days, there are more than a dozen people waiting for their turn to order some of the biggest subs available in Philadelphia. But this is a place that you don't mind waiting in, even if it takes 45 minutes to get your food.
Koch's is more than a deli. It's an experience. Whoever is at the counter (in my day, it was Bob Koch. Now, with his passing, it's someone I don't know) will heckle and joke with whoever comes through the door. Many times, he remembered faces and orders. As you waited, you'd get to hear the jokes and the conversation - sometimes between the patrons, sometimes between Bob and whoever he was serving.
You could take your time to look over the large sandwich board hanging behind the counter, trying to decide which you would try this time. Would you go for one of the many specialty sandwiches like the PCOM special with it's corned beef, chicken salad, roast beef and muenster? That would cover lunch and dinner there, being so large. Or would you dial it back a bit and order a crispy BLT? And once you've made that decision, you need to decide which of the scrumptious dessert, tempting you from above the meat cooler, you'll bring home.
As you chat with your line neighbors, something will be passed along the (often horseshoe shaped) line. A pile of meat or several slice of cheese, free samples to keep you from getting too hungry while you wait. What makes the rounds depends on the whim of the man at the cash register. But you can guarantee that it will be good, whatever he decides.
Finally, you'll put in your order and watch it put together with no further input from you. The workers have a great memory for what you want on or off your sandwich. And as you get closer to the register, whoever is there will turn their attention to you. If you're new, they'll get to know you with easy conversation. If you're a familiar face at Koch's, you may find yourself asked about things going on in your life. I still remember as the wedding day got nearer, Bob joking with us about the upcoming day. He would even slide in a piece of cake for us on occasion, no charge.
Once the sandwiches, pickles, sides, drinks and anything else you choose to order have been slid into a large paper bag, you pay with a smile. Pricey? Yeah. But worth it. Then you say good-bye for another day, week, month and head home with your largess. You may not be able to have a seat to enjoy your food, but you will enjoy it all the same.