On the Menu: Ye Waverly Inn

Before the cozy little restaurant on the corner of Bank and Waverly Streets became The Waverly Inn (the eatery Frank Bruni described as "a Stork Club without the plumage" ), it was more quaintly known as Ye Waverly Inn, and this is the menu from 1964.

As the mimeographed bill of fare is hard to read, allow me to list some highlights: turkey with giblet gravy, potted meatballs, tuna salad with potato chips, marble layer cake, and Hawaiian chicken over rice and Chinese noodles.

With dishes like these, I think a 1960s throwback dinner is in order. Graydon Carter, are you listening?

(click to enlarge)

Mogen Dovid Delicatessen Magazine

Working in a research library has its advantages. I've met lots of interesting people, encountered fascinating objects serendipitously, and wandered around the deep crevices of a landmark building.

But an unusual condition can occur when you've worked in a library for a long time. You run the risk of becoming jaded.

First Folio of Shakespeare? Been there, done that.

Gutenberg Bible? Please. I walk by it every day.

But when you do stumble upon something new -- something exciting and revelatory and unexpected -- you have a tendency to appreciate it all the more.

Such as delicatessen trade journals.

I was introduced to these periodicals by Roberta Saltzman, the librarian in the Dorot Jewish Division, who has cultivated a world-class collection of Jewish cookery materials. Among the fascinating items in her collection is the Mogen Dovid Delicatessen Magazine, published in New York from 1930 until 1939.

Firmly union ("Live and Let Live" and "In Union there is Strength" are prominently featured on each issue), and printed in both English and Yiddish, Mogen Dovid covers the world of New York delicatessen culture and features articles related to racketeering, Brooklyn elections, trade overhead and union matters.

One of the most interesting parts of each issue is their Fair Price List which lists "at which the following food should be sold in all delicatessen stores." The March, 1931 issue, for example, proposes that roast chicken (depending on its size) should cost between $1.50 and $2.50; the Temptation Sandwich (tongue, sliced tomato, and India relish) should cost 30 cents; cream cheese and olive sandwich, 20 cents, and a sardine sandwich, 15 cents.



And needless to say the ads are priceless. From Dr. Dick's True Fruit Drinks to Dr. Brown's Celery Tonic (when did it start being called Cel-ray?), these periodicals document local purveyors, distributors, and restaurants that have all but disappeared from view. With the exception of old business directories, these publications are some of the only reminders we have left of these institutions.

So while David Sax writes about the demise of the physical deli in his book Save the Deli, at least he can be reassured that we've saved the deli periodicals.