Ralph Lauren's Very Good Sandwich

The Bronx boy loves his corned beef

I have a massive soft spot for the Polo Bar. Forget for a second that it’s the restaurant version of everything Ralph Lauren has done over the last 50 or so years and think simply of the crowd. You’ve got models and you’ve got Upper Whatever Siders, publicists using the company credit card without a care in the world, super rich guys that needed someplace to go after 21 Club closed and a handful of people that feel like they just walked out of Whit Stillman’s brain. It’s a whole lot of Midtown, basically, and that’s not easy for everybody to deal with. I get it. In theory, a place on East 55th that’s hard to score a reservation at, where the oak-paneled walls are covered in vintage paintings of horses and sometimes men and their horses, any place described as having a “clubby atmosphere” can seem daunting, maybe not a fun experience. I tend to be very underwhelmed by places that try to do what Polo Bar does, but I’ve been going since the place opened and missed it over the last two and a half years in a big way. I always have a good time there and it’s really one of the few places in the city I go to and could see myself kvetching about so many things after, and yet, I’m always happy when I walk out. I stand on the sidewalk, look across the street at the sign for the King Cole Bar and think, yeah, that was nice. I have plenty of reasons—the aforementioned people watching, the cocktails are good, I’m a sucker for what my wife calls a “handsome” restaurant—but the main reason is because of the corned beef sandwich. It’s a favorite eating experience of mine every single time

I will get this part out of the way quickly and say that the sandwich costs thirty bucks. It’s pricey, I know. But the thing is that it’s about the same price as a pastrami sandwich at Katz’s. It’s smaller, but do you really eat that whole thing when you go to the most famous Jewish deli in the world? I have a hearty appetite, and I’m always taking a doggy bag home with me when I go, so if you can finish off one of those monsters in one sitting, bless you and call your cardiologist.

The comparison might seem a little off. Pastrami is smoked and corned beef is boiled. Personally, if you’re dangling the two in front of me, I’m going to go with corned beef because it’s easier to get right whereas pastrami is so easy to mess up. Lots of places think they can do it and almost all of them fail. They don’t pass the mustard so I’m going to be asking you to pass me the mustard so I can drown their weak pastrami in it, is what I’m trying to say. Pastrami needs neshama. It’s gotta have soul and a lot of places just don’t get how to do that. Corned beef, on the other hand, just needs to be played around with a little, dressed up casually, and you get a winner almost every time. At Polo Bar, it’s melted swiss cheese on marble rye served with a side of horseradish coleslaw. I get fries with mine. If you’re going to hurt your heart, do it right, I say.

But to me, Ralph’s corned beef sandwich serves a purpose. It’s an annual sandwich. This is a philosophy I live by and that is there are some things you should have in your life that you know you are only going to eat once a year. It’s not about the price or because you’re watching your weight (although you should probably always factor those two things in), instead, it’s about giving yourself something to look forward to. I might resume going to Polo Bar a few times a year once things start to (hopefully) settle down, but I’m not always going to get the sandwich. In fact, last night I didn’t even order it. I thought about it but said the timing wasn’t right. I got the branzino, which was lovely, prepared with tomatoes, capers and olives underneath it. I told the server I had missed the corned beef over the last few years, and he graciously brought us out a couple of little squares of the sandwich just so we could have a taste. Emily, not the biggest sandwich fan, was pretty blown away. She saw why I talk about this sandwich as a little artery-clogging pilgrimage. But I said I want things to get back on track before I feel comfortable starting up an annual tradition. I’m going to wait a few months, things are too up in the air right now. I’m still not totally comfortable making a habit of eating indoors (Emily just got over Covid and “wants to put those antibodies to work” so I obliged) and work is all over the place right now. Perhaps I’ll try to sneak a reservation at Polo Bar in October or November and treat myself. Maybe I’ll take a friend, maybe I’ll go alone. Perhaps it will be a quiet celebration of something in my life or simply a craving hits and I feel the need to schlep to Midtown. Or maybe I’ll simply be ready to start looking forward to things again. For now, the little sample of the corned beef sandwich was enough.