In 1987, my jeans were high-waisted, my bangs teased sky-high with Aqua Net and carbs were my best friend. Ronald Reagan was president, “Dirty Dancing” dominated movie theaters and my grandmother was still making the most delicious cabbage rolls I had ever tasted — tender, sweet and savory bundles filled with ground meat and rice. She’d always make extra so I could take some home, where I inevitably finished them off the very same day.
Fast forward to this week, when a visit to Shapiro’s Delicatessen in downtown Indianapolis instantly transported me back to those cherished days of culinary joy.
Founded in 1905 by Louis and Rebecca Shapiro, Shapiro’s began as a humble grocery store, evolving over four generations into an iconic Indiana landmark beloved for its kosher-style delicatessen fare. Today, Shapiro’s remains proudly family-owned, serving generations of Hoosiers — and nostalgic food writers! — with authentic dishes made fresh daily. Entering the deli feels like stepping into a grand family reunion filled with familiar aromas and timeless flavors.
The cafeteria-style service at Shapiro’s is both efficient and inviting. Desserts greet you first, followed by an array of fresh salads and comforting side dishes, then hearty sandwiches and hot entrees. The friendly staff keep the line moving swiftly, but I’d recommend checking the menu beforehand; the multitude of choices is delightfully overwhelming, especially for a Baby Boomer and her hungry new husband.
The deli’s crown jewel — and my first pick — was their legendary corned beef sandwich. Generous layers of perfectly seasoned, lean, tender corned beef were piled high between slices of freshly baked, thick-cut rye bread. Each bite was perfection: salty, juicy meat balanced beautifully by a smear of sharp deli mustard, transporting me straight back to the simplicity of 1980s lunches.
Then came the cabbage rolls — an unexpected gift from the culinary gods. The first bite instantly filled me with memories of my grandmother’s cooking, something I hadn’t tasted since she stopped cooking as she entered her eighties. Tender cabbage leaves lovingly wrapped around delicately seasoned ground beef and rice, nestled in a tangy-sweet tomato sauce. Nostalgia, warmth and love — all in a single bite. I could have happily stopped there, but my culinary journey was just beginning.
Next up were the potato pancakes, crispy-edged and golden brown, an inch thick and perfectly tender inside. My husband declared they needed no adornment — no applesauce or sour cream necessary. He savored them just as they were, delighted with every bite.
The side dishes at Shapiro’s were equally impressive. The coleslaw was bright and crunchy, providing a fresh counterpoint to the rich meats. The potato salad was creamy with just the right amount of tangy mustard notes, reminiscent of beloved neighborhood potlucks. Slow-cooked green beans, tender and seasoned with simple authenticity, tasted straight from a cherished family recipe.
Dessert at Shapiro’s offered its own sweet nostalgia. The coconut cream pie was decadently thick and topped with airy meringue. The tapioca pudding, a childhood aversion turned newfound delight, tasted like a delightful fusion of pudding and trendy boba tea pearls, making it an unexpectedly joyful treat.
By meal’s end, it was clear Shapiro’s isn’t merely a deli — it’s a testament to food’s enduring ability to bridge generations, preserve traditions, and evoke cherished memories. Comfort, authenticity, and nostalgia served with genuine heart.
Fully satisfied and a bit wistful for the simplicity of the ’80s, I left Shapiro’s smiling, reassured that some treasures, like high-waisted jeans and teased hair, are timeless. Shapiro’s Delicatessen is unquestionably one of them — an Indiana gem worth revisiting again and again.
