Courtesy of Izzy’s Facebook page.
Key lime pie
The phrase “The heart wants what it wants” is often attributed to Emily Dickinson, though it was Woody Allen who helped lodge it in the modern vernacular when he used it in a 1992 Time magazine interview. I’d like to offer a new variation, equally valid, especially for those of us who follow our appetites as faithfully as others follow their hearts: “The stomach wants what the stomach wants.” I coined it after eating a potato pancake the size of my head — and then continuing on to dessert without hesitation.
I have a confession. I’ve lived in Cincinnati for nearly 30 years, and until recently, I had never been to Izzy’s. Shocking, I know. I had heard whispers of the glorious corned beef, the crispy potato pancakes, the iconic pickle bowl. I’d even driven past the Elm Street location more times than I can count. But somehow, I’d never set foot inside. That changed this week — and now I see what all the fuss is about.
Before I get into what I ate (and I will get there — I promise), it’s worth taking a moment to talk about Izzy’s legacy. This isn’t just a place to grab a sandwich. It’s a piece of Cincinnati’s Jewish history, a culinary heirloom that continues to feed the city in more ways than one.
Izzy Kadetz, a Russian Jewish immigrant, opened his first delicatessen in 1901. At a time when Jewish families were building new lives in the Queen City, Izzy’s offered something more than food — it offered community, familiarity, and warmth. Over the decades, the Kadetz family continued to serve up traditional deli fare — corned beef, pastrami, matzo ball soup, and those now-legendary potato pancakes — anchoring the business as a cornerstone of Cincinnati’s Jewish culinary tradition.
Even as the city has grown and diversified, Izzy’s has remained true to its roots. Today, there are five locations throughout the area, and while ownership has changed hands, the spirit of Izzy Kadetz lives on in every sandwich, every bowl of soup, and every smiling server who greets a regular by name.
And yes, the food lives up to the lore.
Courtesy of Izzy’s Facebook page.
A potato pancake
Let’s start with the potato pancake. When it arrived at the table, I had a moment of disbelief. It looked more like a funnel cake from a county fair than a side dish. Deep-fried to a crisp, golden brown, its surface was full of craggy little crevices just waiting to be filled with applesauce or sour cream. The first bite delivered a satisfying crunch, followed by a soft, almost creamy center where the grated potato flavor shone through. It was rich without being greasy, dense without being heavy. This wasn’t just a side. It was an experience.
For my main dish, I chose what Izzy’s boldly calls the “World’s Greatest Reuben.” That’s not a small claim, but I’ll admit, they may be on to something. The sauerkraut was bright and bracing, providing the perfect acidic counterpoint to the richness of the meat. The rye bread — grilled to crisp perfection — held everything together. It was a messy, satisfying, utterly delicious sandwich, and I ate it with both hands and zero regrets.
My dining companion, a purist, went for the half corned beef on rye with mustard, a bowl of beef barley soup, and his own potato pancake. His sandwich was exactly what it claimed to be: simple, traditional, and overflowing with perfectly seasoned meat. The soup was deeply flavorful, with that slow-simmered taste that can’t be rushed. It reminded me of the kind my mother used to make from a Manischewitz mix — though this one clearly didn’t come from a packet.
While I moved on to dessert — a comforting bowl of rice pudding topped with a nostalgic swirl of Cool Whip and flecked with white raisins — he polished off the complimentary bowl of pickles that had arrived when we sat down. Savory and sour with just the right crunch, they were his version of a sweet finish. (Pickles for dessert may be unusual, but hey, the stomach wants what it wants.)
What really stood out, beyond the food, was the atmosphere. The service was outstanding — fast, friendly, and personal. It was clear there were regulars dining around us. One man walked in, greeted the staff by name, and sat at “his” table without even opening the menu. Several solo diners tapped away on laptops or lingered over a book. Izzy’s, it seems, isn’t just a deli — it’s a community space. Think Starbucks, but with pastrami and soup instead of espresso and scones.
Izzy’s isn’t trendy, and that’s exactly why it matters. In a dining landscape full of novelty, it serves up something far more enduring: tradition. It’s where generations of Cincinnatians have gathered for a hot meal and a little connection. It’s the kind of place where families come after synagogue, where old friends meet for lunch, and where newcomers like me quickly feel at home.
Courtesy of Izzy’s Facebook page.
A selection of choices from Izzy’s
Next time, I may try the pastrami or the whimsically named “Cod Father” — a crispy cod sandwich topped with tartar sauce and lettuce on a brioche bun. I’ve also heard good things about the meatloaf sandwich, which feels like it belongs on a plate next to mashed potatoes and a helping of nostalgia. Of course, I’ll be ordering another potato pancake — or two.
In a perfect world, I could eat one every day without consequence. Until then, I’ll simply dream of my next visit.
