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A ‘Jewish luncheonette’ returns to the Flatiron District, with a killer egg cream
(New York Jewish Week) — It’s just after 1 p.m. on an unseasonably warm autumn day, and the line at the recently opened Flatiron restaurant S&P, which describes itself as “a new place for a very old lunch counter,” is out the door.
Fortunately for my rumbling stomach, the crowd is mostly due to the tight quarters within: Many customers are simply waiting for takeout orders of pastrami sandwiches and matzah ball soup. The barstool seating at the vintage marble counter means space near the entrance is at a premium, and my dining companion (none other than Shannon Sarna, the editor of The Nosher) and I are quickly seated at a two-top in the cramped yet convivial rear, which is dominated by a long green banquette.
S&P officially opened Sept. 28, the latest venture from Eric Finkelstein and Matt Ross, the founders of hip local sandwich mini-chain Court Street Grocers. It’s the newest iteration of an old-school luncheonette at 174 Fifth Ave., which first opened in 1928 and had been known for decades as Eisenberg’s Sandwich Shop.
I myself had once been a regular Eisenberg’s customer: At the tail-end of the ’90s, my first “real” job in New York was at the Flatiron Building across the street. To me — and, clearly, to many other New Yorkers — Eisenberg’s was the kind of place that seemed to be entwined with the very fabric of the city, like pigeons, hot dog carts and subway cars. I can’t say the food was particularly good at Eisenberg’s, but washing down a tuna melt with an egg cream in the vintage environs always felt special.
After a series of owners, Eisenberg’s shuttered for good during the pandemic in March 2021. Finkelstein and Ross — who first met as undergraduates at the Rhode Island School of Design, where they graduated in 2003 — were tapped to take over the space this spring, as the building’s landlord was committed to having a tenant who would preserve the vibe (if not the name, due to legal reasons) of Eisenberg’s.
The partners have spiffed up the interior and the menu a tad — but not enough so that the eatery feels unrecognizable. In fact S&P very much feels the same as Eisenberg’s always has, even if the floor is new and dishes such as bananas and sour cream are recent additions. As Finkelstein, 40, who grew up in a Jewish family in Hollis Hills, Queens, told me in a phone interview: “This is the kind of food I grew up around and with.”
In an effort to preserve the space’s long history, the new owners settled on a name that honors the restaurant’s original owners, Charles Schwadron and Rubin Pulver. “You can see that these two guys, Schwadron and Pulver, had built this place out right when the building was erected, and they were going to run a restaurant together,” Finkelstein said, explaining research that included scouring old lawsuits and tax documents. “In a 1940 tax photo, which is how we found out it had been called S&P, you can see five other sandwich shops on the same block.”
Following a hectic weekday lunch rush, I spoke with Finkelstein about the luncheonette’s legacy, its Jewish influences and how to make a perfect egg cream.
This interview has been lightly edited for length and clarity.
New York Jewish Week: Eisenberg’s felt like the kind of place that’s been around forever — and the new S&P still does. The nostalgia is there, but at the same time, the restaurant really feels like a living, breathing part of the city. Is that what you were aiming for?
Eric Finkelstein: This kind of place has always been really important to my business partner, Matt [Ross], and I — and to, obviously, a lot of people in New York. It’s the kind of place that people associate with New York. When you think about the city, you assume that these places are everywhere — and they should be. There are a number of reasons why they aren’t; some of them are organic, and some of them aren’t.
We found ourselves with an opportunity to help the city retain this one. And I think, fundamentally, what we really wanted to do was just make sure that if we were going to do this, that we did it in a way that was honest — where we tried to make the best food that we can, and try to provide the most appropriate level of service that we can, and that it’s not, to use a phrase Matt uses, a “theme-park version.” Because we definitely feel that this kind of thing is timeless, and it’s not, you know, it’s not an exercise in nostalgia to try to keep this place open.
Were you familiar with Eisenberg’s before you opened S&P?
I wasn’t aware of Eisenberg’s as a kid. My father definitely knew of it; my great-grandparents worked in the neighborhood, where there were a ton of places like Eisenberg’s. When we opened Court Street Grocers [in 2010], Matt and I used a number of things as a model for what we wanted to do [and this was one of them]. Like everybody else, I was kind of bummed to see the place had declined so precipitously in those last couple of years, then even more devastated to see it close.
I should say, obviously, that we are not Eisenberg’s. We don’t have the right to use that name. S&P is a different business. But one of the things that I loved so much about Eisenberg’s is that it was a lunch counter, that, you know, there were hundreds, or maybe thousands of lunch counters exactly like it in New York, with the same exact specs for the marble countertop and the mirrored back bar.
There are a lot of traditional Jewish foods on the menu, like latkes and matzah brei, but you also have things like cheeseburgers and bacon. Would you consider S&P a Jewish deli, or do you see it as Jewish in any way?
I would consider it a Jewish luncheonette. I think a deli has counter service, like a deli counter. Maybe a deli food case, and you could order food to go, or you could sit down at a table and maybe get a table service. But I think the lunch counter aspect of it makes it not a deli but a luncheonette.
It’s obviously not kosher. But, you know, I think there’s a tradition of this kind of lunch counter in New York that was Jewish inflected. And even a lot of diners have a lot of traditional Jewish food on their menus, for whatever reason, just because it’s New York.
I read that S&P’s desserts are made by your relatives. I love how this is a family business — a lot of the classic Jewish restaurants in the city, like Katz’s Delicatessen and Russ & Daughters, are generations-old family businesses. Do you feel like you’re recreating some of that, with something new?
My father makes the rugelach and both of Matt’s parents make the carrot cake.
The Court Street Grocers business, we’ve always thought of it as a kind of mom-and-pop-style operation. Decisions are made based on what’s actually happening with interactions between the customers and the staff, versus just kind of coming up with what people call “a concept” and executing it. These places should be living and breathing things that change.
Bonus question: I ordered a tuna melt and an egg cream at S&P, just like I used to at Eisenberg’s. I like egg creams OK but I don’t generally love them. But the one I had at S&P was by far the best egg cream I’ve ever had. What’s your secret?
First of all, we have good seltzer — we made sure that we had a good seltzer system put in, with the right amount of carbon dioxide, pressure, and a way that we can get it cold enough, which is a big deal. We’re using good milk, and we’re using Fox’s U-Bet [chocolate] syrup. So it’s sort of the same ingredients that everybody uses. I don’t know if ours is better, but the order of operations is really important. Before we opened we tried, over and over again, different ways of making it, like you put the chocolate syrup and then the milk. [Or] you put the milk and seltzer and then syrup. We’ve gotten to a place where we’re really satisfied. The amount of syrup is really important — I think it’s just proportions and order of operations, and then doing your best to try to not beat out all the carbonation.
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How Hezbollah Terrorists Became ‘Local Residents’ in the Media
Lebanese army members stand on a military vehicle during a Lebanese army media tour, to review the army’s operations in the southern Litani sector, in Alma Al-Shaab, near the border with Israel, southern Lebanon, Nov. 28, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Aziz Taher
During an operation earlier this month, the IDF reportedly clashed with Hezbollah operatives and “civilians” in the Lebanese village of Nabi Chit, leaving 41 people dead and another 40 injured.
At least, that is what CNN, the Associated Press (AP), Sky News, BBC, and The Guardian all reported.
But not a single outlet actually questioned who these “civilians” were that clashed with the IDF, or why there were clashes in the first place.
The operation was carried out in an attempt to return the remains of Ron Arad, an Israeli navigator who has been missing since his fighter-bomber was shot down over Lebanon in 1986. He was believed to have originally been captured by the Amal Movement and handed over to Hezbollah, before being presumed dead.
As is the protocol with any missing person or soldier, the State of Israel works to recover every body for a proper and dignified burial in their homeland.
Based on intelligence, the IDF believed Arad’s body to be buried in a cemetery in Nabi Chit, a village located close to the Lebanese-Syrian border in the Beqaa Valley.
IDF special forces initiated a raid into Lebanon in an attempt to recover the remains of Ron Arad, an Israeli airman shot down in 1986.
But it wasn’t only Hezbollah terrorists who engaged in a firefight with IDF soldiers on the ground:
@guardian: Hezbollah “fighters ambushed… pic.twitter.com/wOuWa9AXVj
— HonestReporting (@HonestReporting) March 8, 2026
On Friday, March 6, well before the operation began, the IDF issued an evacuation warning, urging innocent civilians to leave.
The village has long been a stronghold of Hezbollah, with several past leaders, including the second secretary-general, Abbas al-Musawi, born there. Being that Hezbollah has systematically embedded its infrastructure and operatives into the town itself, many — presumably including a significant number affiliated with or supportive of Hezbollah — appeared to defy the evacuation orders, staying in their homes.
Late Friday evening, Israeli commandos entered the village, hoping to quickly locate the body of Arad and leave without disturbance. According to some reports, the IDF forces arrived undercover. Had the IDF been seeking a battle, it would have entered openly rather than disguised, indicating that the goal was a targeted retrieval mission, not a confrontation.
However, soon after the IDF’s arrival, a firefight broke out between Israeli forces and Hezbollah operatives. This is precisely where international media coverage begins — and where the crucial context disappears.
Hezbollah operatives are suddenly grouped in with the “civilians” or “local residents” who supposedly rushed out to defend their homes against an Israeli invasion, leaving their houses with guns to engage in battle with the IDF.
But the IDF had entered the village on a limited mission: to retrieve the remains of a fallen soldier. There was no broader offensive and no threat to civilian homes. That raises a fundamental question: why did so many outlets lead with descriptions of “residents” or “local fighters” joining Hezbollah in “defending their homes,” when their homes were clearly not under threat?
Following the ensuing battle between the IDF commandos and Hezbollah, the Israeli Air Force provided air cover through targeted strikes to ensure the safe extraction of all troops. Sadly, they were unsuccessful in locating the body of Arad.
By the time the operation ended, the Lebanese health ministry reported that 41 people had been killed and 40 wounded. Yet, when reporting these casualties, the media failed to acknowledge the obvious likelihood that many of those casualties were Hezbollah operatives — or what Sky News and AP described as “local fighters.”
The narrative that Israel intentionally killed innocent civilians was not limited to the international media, but quickly spread across social media.
Posts circulating online framed the operation as a reckless mission designed to target civilians with no clearly defined operational purpose. This is despite the IDF’s clear intention to limit civilian harm while preserving the dignity of all Israeli soldiers, no matter how long ago they fell in battle.
Israelis can be weird. They sent special forces into Lebanon to retrieve the remains of a dude who died 40 years ago, and this against the wishes of his widow. They randomly killed scores of civilians in the process and failed to find any bone, and yet they are bragging about it. https://t.co/DzEutjWCpP
— Prof Francois Balloux (@BallouxFrancois) March 8, 2026
Hezbollah’s strategy of embedding its infrastructure and operatives within civilian areas has long blurred the line between civilians and combatants, resulting in armed terrorists who attack Israeli forces being framed in media coverage as innocent “local residents.” The IDF’s operation in Nabi Chit and the ensuing battle illustrate this strategy in full, exposing just how effectively Hezbollah has manipulated the media.
The author is a contributor to HonestReporting, a Jerusalem-based media watchdog with a focus on antisemitism and anti-Israel bias — where a version of this article first appeared.
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In the work of 21 artists, 49 different ways to be Jewish
As I walked through the exhibit, Envisioning the Sacred: Modern Art from the Collection, at the Derfner Judaica Museum and Art Collection, I wondered aloud which was the more defining element in these 20th and 21st century paintings, drawings, prints and linoleum cuts. Was it the modernist sensibility, which encompassed figurative, abstract, symbolic and metaphorical approaches? Or was it the Jewish-themed content?
In the 49 pieces by 21 artists (including two etchings by Marc Chagall), there were illustrated Biblical characters and stories; depictions of traditions and rituals; and a fair number of the works employed the Hebrew alphabet to evoke emotion and inspire the composition.
“The exhibit shows how artists use a modern visual language to express their Jewish identities,” said Susan Chevlowe, chief curator and museum director who guided me through the light-filled gallery, which is part of the Hebrew Home at Riverdale and set on a shallow hill that slopes down to the Hudson River.
“It’s hard to separate the two elements or say which is more defining,” Chevlowe said. “The majority of these artists were artists early on in their lives, drawing and sketching as children. Some grew up steeped in a Jewish tradition and others came to their Jewish identity later in life, especially in the post-Holocaust years. Percival Goodman is an example. An agnostic, he was best known as a modernist architect. But in the post-Holocaust years he became interested in Biblical figures.”
Chevlowe pointed to Goodman’s painting “Rebekah and Jacob,” presenting two large, sharply drawn flat heads. The bold colors outlined in stark black stripes summon forth figures that border on the cartoonish, yet are also strikingly beautiful. Here, the matriarch Rebekah beams at her younger son Jacob with whom she is scheming to steal her older son Esau’s birthright.
A number of the works reflect, in subtle and layered ways, Jewish traumas coupled with homage and pride and in some instances a touch of the elegiac.
Adam Muszka’s “Sabbath Meal,” painted in the 1960’s is a nostalgic look back at the lively Polish shtetl that he grew up in and that no longer exists. With its sentimental tone, the painting evinces distortion. Two figures in the foreground are over-sized, while the homes in the background are shrunken and lopsided — an indication, perhaps, that this is a falsely rosy memory.
In the seemingly more realistic 2003 painting, “Choral Synagogue, St. Petersburg, Russia,” one of the more recent works on display, Joyce Ellen Weinstein brings to life the massive temple entrance and the decorative gate in front of it, “which is slightly off kilter,” Chevlowe pointed out. “Notice the barbed wire on top of the gate. The painting suggests the dignity of the synagogue and its people and also the difficult position of Russian Jews throughout history.”
Chevlowe was hard pressed to pick a favorite, though she admitted a special fondness for Jane Logemann’s 1996 “Alphabet,” a series of pale blue and purple ink wash panels adorned with repeated pairs of Hebrew letters, in pen and ink, which create a vertical pattern from the top of the page to the bottom. The series is poetic, lyrical.
“Logemann is interested in patterns and structures of nature,” said Chevlowe. “Some letters are large, others small. There’s a randomness here. Her choices are intuitive. For many artists the abstract is spiritual. For some mysticism and spiritual quest are essential in their work.”
One of the better known artists in the group is Mark Podwal. In his 2002 “Dreidel Hanukkia,” an acrylic painting, we see a menorah balanced on a dreidel and on the opposite side of the page there’s a less readily definable bench lamp.
“It’s modern and old and very playful,” said Chevlowe. “And each Hanukkah light, the menorah and the bench lamp, is cut off by the frame, cut off by the rest of the world. It’s a fragment. We often see that in Degas too.”
Some of the painters are more deeply embedded in or influenced by particular schools of art than others. In Jacques Yankel’s joyful and expressionistic “Torah,” one can see the Marc Chagall and Chaim Soutine lineage. Yankel’s emigre artist father lived in Paris and was very much part of the Paris school of art, which included Chagall and Soutine.
In New York, Ben-Zion, a Russian-born painter who arrived in the United States in 1920, was a recognized member of “The Ten,” abstract painters that consisted of, among others, Mark Rothko and Adolph Gottlieb, though curiously enough Ben-Zion was never really an abstract painter.
Moses was a frequent subject of his. In his 1962 “Moses Looking Down to the Promised Land,” our title character is viewed from the back, an imposing, heavily draped figure perched on a rocky terrain. He is staring out at Jericho, at once so close to and yet so far away from The Promised Land.
Abraham Rattner also employed Moses as the central figure and theme in his vibrant Picassoesque “Moses,” which features the Prophet clutching two blank tablets, devoid of the commandments or, indeed, any writings. His head twisted to the side and an integral element in a wild abstract design is as unsettling as it is thrilling. It is perhaps my favorite in the collection.
“I would like viewers to appreciate the richness in stylistic range and to be aware that these are highly trained, skilled and knowledgeable artists who come from a rich cultural tradition that includes all of art history,” Chevlowe told me. “At the same time they create something that’s original, authentic and beautiful.”
The post In the work of 21 artists, 49 different ways to be Jewish appeared first on The Forward.
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Forverts podcast, episode 8: Israeli voices
דער פֿאָרווערטס האָט שוין אַרויסגעלאָזט דעם נײַנטן קאַפּיטל פֿונעם ייִדישן פּאָדקאַסט, Yiddish With Rukhl. דאָס מאָל איז די טעמע „ישׂראלדיקע שטימעס“.
אין דעם קאַפּיטל וועט איר הערן צוויי אַרטיקלען: מיכאל קרוטיקאָווס רעצענזיע פֿון שירי שאַפּיראַס בוך דערציילונגען, וואָס אַנטפּלעקן דאגות פֿונעם „מילעניאַל“ דור, וואָס איר קענט אַליין לייענען דאָ, און בני מערס פּערזענלעכן עסיי, „דאָס אײַנפּאַקן אַ טאָרבע פֿאַרן לויפֿן אין שוצקעלער האָט עפּעס דערוועקט אין מיר“, וואָס איר קענט לייענען דאָ.
צו הערן דעם פּאָדקאַסט, גיט אַ קוועטש דאָ.
שירי שאַפּיראַס דערצײלונגען
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