Noshville Katz - he runs a kosher deli!
Noshville Katz - the only place in town!
Noshville Katz - it’s not like you’re in Brooklyn.
Noshville Katz - the only one around!
Well, there’s thirteen-hundred fifty-two different restaurants in
Nashville.
And you can eat anything from a hominy grit to a Contac time pill.
But there’s only one place to get a half-sour pickle or a corn beef
sandwich in Nashville,
Just ask anybody how to get to Katz’s if you're looking to eat well!
About a year ago it was impossible to find a kosher delicatessen.
And the people said, “Mr. Katz, won’t you open up a place where the
people can fress in?”
Well, it was a good idea for a Brooklyn boy to bring a kosher deli
to Nashville.
And his bubbeh asked him who would eat his food -
He said, “The Tennessee folks will!”
So, they call him
Noshville Katz - he runs a kosher deli!
Noshville Katz - the only place in town!
Noshville Katz - it’s not like you’re in Brooklyn.
Noshville Katz - the only one around!
Have a Yiddishe dish:
A potato knish
Or a bagel and cream cheese.
A little chicken soup or gefilte fish
With some carrots and green peas.
If you can get through that,
Have a little chopped liver
Or a piece of herring in wine sauce.
And you can wash it down with a Dr. Brown -
It shouldn’t be a total loss.
(Eat, darling, eat!)
Noshville Katz - he runs a kosher deli!
Noshville Katz - the only place in town!
Noshville Katz - it’s not like you’re in Brooklyn.
Noshville Katz - the only one around!
We also cater bar mitzvahs.
- Noshville Katz, by The Lovin’ Cohens (1967)
Yesterday’s novelty song became today’s reality as we sat down to enjoy a deli luncheon Sunday afternoon in the heart of Nashville...in a restaurant named, appropriately enough, Noshville.
The Missus, the Mistress, Gilad, and our friends Gary and JoAnn all pronounced the matzoh ball soup excellent. Meanwhile, I was thoroughly pleased with my sandwich: tongue, pastrami, and chopped liver on marble rye. The Cholesterol Special.
And, of course, I washed it down with a Dr. Brown. (It shouldn’t be a total loss.)
It’s not like we didn’t eat well the entire weekend. We did.
Lunch Saturday was at Sol, a new Mexican place in Franklin. I had seared tuna nachos that were smack-yer-momma good. After some time spent wandering around town, making fascinating discoveries - did you know that there’s a company that makes paper out of elephant shit? Who wants to lick those envelopes? - I developed a Chocolate Jones, one that was eminently satisfied at a shop with the semi-unpronounceable name of “Xoconochco.”
Exotic chocolates at Xoconochco.
Saturday night, we all sat down to a fine dinner at the Boxwood Bistro in Franklin. We had dined there last time we were in Franklin, and this evening was just as good if not better. My filet was ridiculously tender, with a flavorsome pan-seared crust.
Breakfast Sunday was a homemade Tennessee-style affair at Magnolia House, our bed-and-breakfast, a cozy little place just a few hundred feet from the Mistress’s place. An egg, cheese, and jalapeño dish was set off nicely with biscuits and a hashbrown potato casserole. How we summoned the strength to waddle away from the table is beyond me.
Magnolia House.
And that brings us back to Noshville.
This week: Starvation. It’s the only way to knock off the ass-cheek’s worth of weight I gained.
Noshville Katz - the only place in town!
Noshville Katz - it’s not like you’re in Brooklyn.
Noshville Katz - the only one around!
Well, there’s thirteen-hundred fifty-two different restaurants in
Nashville.
And you can eat anything from a hominy grit to a Contac time pill.
But there’s only one place to get a half-sour pickle or a corn beef
sandwich in Nashville,
Just ask anybody how to get to Katz’s if you're looking to eat well!
About a year ago it was impossible to find a kosher delicatessen.
And the people said, “Mr. Katz, won’t you open up a place where the
people can fress in?”
Well, it was a good idea for a Brooklyn boy to bring a kosher deli
to Nashville.
And his bubbeh asked him who would eat his food -
He said, “The Tennessee folks will!”
So, they call him
Noshville Katz - he runs a kosher deli!
Noshville Katz - the only place in town!
Noshville Katz - it’s not like you’re in Brooklyn.
Noshville Katz - the only one around!
Have a Yiddishe dish:
A potato knish
Or a bagel and cream cheese.
A little chicken soup or gefilte fish
With some carrots and green peas.
If you can get through that,
Have a little chopped liver
Or a piece of herring in wine sauce.
And you can wash it down with a Dr. Brown -
It shouldn’t be a total loss.
(Eat, darling, eat!)
Noshville Katz - he runs a kosher deli!
Noshville Katz - the only place in town!
Noshville Katz - it’s not like you’re in Brooklyn.
Noshville Katz - the only one around!
We also cater bar mitzvahs.
- Noshville Katz, by The Lovin’ Cohens (1967)
Yesterday’s novelty song became today’s reality as we sat down to enjoy a deli luncheon Sunday afternoon in the heart of Nashville...in a restaurant named, appropriately enough, Noshville.
The Missus, the Mistress, Gilad, and our friends Gary and JoAnn all pronounced the matzoh ball soup excellent. Meanwhile, I was thoroughly pleased with my sandwich: tongue, pastrami, and chopped liver on marble rye. The Cholesterol Special.
And, of course, I washed it down with a Dr. Brown. (It shouldn’t be a total loss.)
It’s not like we didn’t eat well the entire weekend. We did.
Lunch Saturday was at Sol, a new Mexican place in Franklin. I had seared tuna nachos that were smack-yer-momma good. After some time spent wandering around town, making fascinating discoveries - did you know that there’s a company that makes paper out of elephant shit? Who wants to lick those envelopes? - I developed a Chocolate Jones, one that was eminently satisfied at a shop with the semi-unpronounceable name of “Xoconochco.”
Exotic chocolates at Xoconochco.
Saturday night, we all sat down to a fine dinner at the Boxwood Bistro in Franklin. We had dined there last time we were in Franklin, and this evening was just as good if not better. My filet was ridiculously tender, with a flavorsome pan-seared crust.
Breakfast Sunday was a homemade Tennessee-style affair at Magnolia House, our bed-and-breakfast, a cozy little place just a few hundred feet from the Mistress’s place. An egg, cheese, and jalapeño dish was set off nicely with biscuits and a hashbrown potato casserole. How we summoned the strength to waddle away from the table is beyond me.
Magnolia House.
And that brings us back to Noshville.
This week: Starvation. It’s the only way to knock off the ass-cheek’s worth of weight I gained.
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