Meat and mirth at Sammy’s Roumanian
Last night, I helped an old friend celebrate the end of bachelorhood at Sammy’s Roumanian, a beloved Eastern European steakhouse at Chrystie and Delancey. If you go to Sammy’s seeking to nose a wine glass or contemplate a subtle interplay of flavors, textures, and colors, you might feel a tad bit out of place. Sammy’s is for eaters: those for whom "cut, chew, swallow, repeat" is the mantra of choice. Our group started off with latkes (potato pancakes) and applesauce, fried kerplach (dumplings), karnatzlack (garlicky sausage) and stuffed cabbage–all were delicious. My favorite appetizer was the schmaltz (liquid chicken fat), which we sopped up greedily with the endless quantities of fresh rye bread. Most of us ordered "medium" Roumanian tenderloin steaks, which tended to be about a foot long, and actually hung over the edges of the plate. These greasy, garlicky, delectable strips of beef were enough to put even this committed carnivore into short-term protein shock. To aid digestion, a creaky old DJ (Sammy himself?), spun a strange mix of Frank Sinatra and traditional Jewish songs (Hava Nagila, anyone?). At one point in the evening, about a dozen guests from one of the other tables started dancing the horah–I resisted several attempts to get me to join in. The waiters are a swell bunch of extremely hairy guys who will not hesitate to ride you if you seem timid about your order. Needless to say, I was in heaven from the first bite.
