Clink! Clank! Clink! It is very busy tonight at the Pickled Herring. The warm scent of matzo ball soup, hot pastrami, and the chatter of all the old Jewish couples getting a nice dinner before migrating to Florida for the winter infiltrates the room. Eating here is love at first bite! That all-so-familiar feeling of nostalgia floods your body as you eat food that makes you feel like you are being hugged by a giant teddy bear from the inside out. For some, Ashkenazi Jewish food is so good because it is not only delicious but also brings them comfort.

Originating in Eastern Europe and eventually making its way to the shores of the United States with immigrants in the 19th and 20th centuries, the delicious deli food that we all know and love today came to be. These immigrants, who were largely uneducated, started to open up delis and various other small businesses to make money, as they often came with very few assets and needed a way to earn a living.

Now, you may be thinking, this is all about how it originated! How is it important to you, Lila? And, that is a great question! Keep on reading to see!

Having deli food is important to me because it helps me feel more connected to my religion, culture, relatives, and my history. When eating Jewish deli food, I not only feel warm and cozy, but every bite feels like I am renewing my commitment to my family, heritage, culture, and religion. It’s difficult to explain the immense feeling of joy I get when eating my comfort foods, much like how Eastern European and German immigrants felt when they opened their own delis all over New York City. The homesick immigrants just wanted a taste of their old life in this new, frightening world they found themselves in.

Most often, people who consumed food from delicatessens worked in factories and sweatshops, and made very little money, so when lunch time came around, they needed something quick and cheap to eat. Oftentimes, just a simple sandwich and a pickle was considered a full meal.

However, this trope is not just that of Jewish immigrants. It is the story of many cultures and many different people with food very different from mine. That feeling that I get when I take a sip of matzo ball soup, or a bite of a crisp, crunchy knish is the same exact feeling someone may get when they taste their great grandmother’s sizzling samosas, or phenomenal pho.

Finding a connection to one’s roots through food is a universal experience, and while another culture’s food can be absolutely positively delicious, it does not compare to the way that “my” food makes me feel.

To me, what makes my comfort foods so special is the act of L’dor V’dor (which means from generation to generation in Hebrew), and the sense of pride I take in knowing that my family’s recipes will continue to be passed down for many, many more generations to come, and that I am incredibly grateful for everything people who have come before me have done, and all of the blood, sweat, and tears they put in to ensure I live a wonderful life full of opportunities, and full of love, laughter, and immense joy. Imagine you are in the kitchen with your Bubbe (grandma in Yiddish), and she is teaching you her top secret recipe for the best Kasha Varnishkes ever. Nobody knows how she makes it, but what they do know is that it is ever so sumptuous. And the best part is that some of these mouthwatering tastes never change—whether it’s 1908, or 2025. Whether you’re in Ukraine, Russia, Hungary, or the United States of America—the taste will never change. The chain of heritage remains unbroken and strong.