Mood, not food make deli famous

By Cecily Feltham
Daily Bruin Contributor

A Snapple at Jerry’s Famous Deli is $2.35.

Ravenous, I didn’t fully register the importance of such a price
as I noted it on the display menu. So hungry, so naive. By the end
of the night, however, I would have been clued in by two discerning
friends that Jerry’s is just too pricey for the student budget, and
that neither the food nor the ambience is good enough to justify
paying $8.95 for a taco salad, at least not more than once in a
while.

In all fairness, I must state here my quirks as an eater. I am
vegetarian. I am inclined to like any restaurant that considers
"nosh" a mealtime. I have fond memories of eating apple pie and
curly fries with a gaggle of girls at 3:00 a.m. at the Jerry’s in
the Marina. I was starving and alone when I entered the door at
7:20 at night. All of this contributed to my willingness to like
Jerry’s and pay whatever it took to get me some food.

It was Yom Kippur and the joint was jumping with people noisily
breaking their fasts. The deli, which is normally open 24 hours a
day, had just reopened at 5:00. As he led me to my table, the host
noted that the restaurant was just about as crowded as it gets
after a gala movie opening. Those interested in hobnobbing, he
says, should come around 12:30 and after movies let out, when
Jerry’s is at its busiest. The background of voices was happily
boisterous as people all around were eating with much gusto.
Arriving at my table, I thought that perhaps such passion was due
in part to Jerry’s color scheme – shiny cherry – colored tabletops
and bright red booths. ("It’s all a conspiracy," I had once been
told. "Red makes you really hungry.")

But credit must also be given to the aroma in the air. I sat
down to the smell of something wonderful and tried to look
discreetly around me to discover what it was. The woman next to me
noted my all-too-obvious interest and said, "It’s chicken soup with
matzo ball," adding that it was immensely tummy-pleasing. (I saw a
grown man whine at his waitress and stomp his feet when he
discovered that Jerry’s was out of their famous chicken soup. Sad,
really, but a testament to its tastiness.)

Thwarted by the meat ingredients, however, I was forced to
re-address the menu and all of its options – everything from "Hot
Dogs & Knocks" to "Deli Mexico." After much deliberation, I
finally choose the "Veggie Melt" ($8.25), which to my surprise and
delight came with french fries.

Having ordered, I surveyed the scene. Customers under 25 were
definitely in the minority, which is probably best explained by my
friend’s theory, "You have to be, like, a working professional to
be able to afford a Jerry’s corned beef sandwich ($8.75) on any
sort of regular basis." I had just begun to wonder whether the
black phones sitting between booths were functional or not when my
food arrived, exactly five minutes after I had ordered it. My
waiter told me that yes, customers can use the phones while they
dine, as long as they have a phone card. I thanked him for both his
speediness and knowledge and brought my attention to the meal in
front of me. I noted that my sandwich was coveted from afar by two
newcomers, and with good reason – it looked colorful and
almost-too-greasy-but-not-quite.

As I was writing down my initial reaction to my meal ("Yummy but
too many onions") I was happily surprised to hear my name, look up,
and see third-year UCLA student Zenia Park standing in front of me.
"Zenia!" I cried. "Is your presence here living testimony to the
fact that Jerry’s food is so good that students will bear the high
cost, impending bankruptcy be damned?" (Or something like that.)
She laughed. "No. I was just walking by when I saw you through the
window. It’s way too expensive! Sometime I’ll come back, just for
the ambiance."

Ha! This was exactly what I needed to know, what I had been
oblivious to all this time. Jerry’s was costly! I considered this
while playing the "She looks familiar. Is she famous?" game as I
waited for the bathroom – part of that ambiance that Zenia was
talking about are the glam early eighties photos of stars from
Lonnie Anderson to Tattoo that grace the walls of the hallway to
the john. As I looked up at Erik Estrada, I thought, "So Jerry’s is
really about paying for the atmosphere. Hmmm. Is it worth it?" I
realized that I was obviously not qualified to answer that question
alone and bolted out of line in search of Shari, my meat-eating and
self-described "deli connoisseur" friend. She would have an
answer.

Dragging her back with me an hour and a bit later, I noticed
that the clientele looked remarkably younger the second time
around.

Shari was more jaded than I, more sharp. She shrieked, "What is
this?" upon viewing the pre-meal pickle platter and put a green
tomato up to her nose and sniffed it. She grimaced, then picked up
the most conventional looking dill pickle and stuck it in her
mouth. "Mmmm," she delighted. Then her face changed. "It’s a little
bit weird," said she. Then, "Nasty. I want to vomit." This may seem
a bit fickle on her part, but I have had that exact same reaction
upon tasting Jerry’s pickles elsewhere.

After tackling the menu, Shari fearlessly ordered a turkey
sandwich ($8.75), then looked at me. "Bastards. Extra fifty cents
for cheese, another thirty-five to have it on baguette." She
sighed. So as to not leave Shari feeling alone, I made the
sacrifice of ordering a brownie ($1.65). We talked. The food came
in record time – I’d say four minutes, tops. Shari ventured into
the yellowy stuff overflowing its cup on her plate. Her verdict:
"The potato salad is damn good. Thumbs up." I looked down at my
brownie – its icing made it look like something out of a vending
machine. Instinctively, I was horrified. Soon enough, however, I
discovered it was tasty. And relative to everything else on the
menu, it was a bargain.

Shari’s final call was: "The sandwich wasn’t all that. Good
turkey, but it just didn’t come together for me. On a scale of 1 –
10, considering the price, I give it a 5." Ouch. We paid and passed
the take-out deli, where scrumptious-looking cakes rotated in glass
containers. In the name of journalism, I brought home a slice of
strawberry cheesecake ($4.25). Goshdarn-credible. Classic.
Mmmm.

Our decision was that the rating of Jerry’s is proportional to
what time it is. If it’s 1:00 p.m. and you can go to Don Antonio’s
and get a honkin-big eggplant parmesan sandwich for $4.25, Jerry’s
gets a 6. If it’s 1:00 a.m. and you need pancakes (my roommate
swears by chocolate-chip blintzes), Jerry’s gets a 9. And if it’s
3:00 a.m. and you want to split a big plate of hot curly fries with
a roommate for $3.35, Jerry’s gets an 11. Just make sure you take a
trip to the bathroom. You’re paying for the ambiance. Get your
money’s worth.