It was the most beautiful sandwich I’d ever seen. Ounce upon ounce of stacked corn beef. I was instantly hooked. Koch’s Deli, undoubtedly a Penn institution, is rarely frequented by Penn students until they reach sophomore year, probably because of the distance from campus at 43rd and Locust. But by chance, freshman year, I was a hungry novice advertising representative for the Daily Pennsylvanian and Koch’s was my very first client. It soon became my favorite, partially because I liked the Israeli owners so much, but also because of the deli sandwiches they shoved at me each time I came.
Now, four years later, I’m on the other side of that counter. I’m the one giving you free meat and cheese samples and stacking six-inch-high sandwiches. It may not the typical career in finance sought by Wharton students like myself, but Koch’s offers me my last shot at the joy of simple hourly labor before I am knee-deep in Excel. My bosses are like the big brothers I never had. They know how to treat the ladies right and they make the atmosphere so lively that customers forget they are waiting in an hour-long line for a sandwich that might not be the cheapest in town. These customers seem to be learning what I learned when I first took a bite: Koch’s has an uncanny ability to change all preconceptions of the Sandwich. Would you like chips and a pickle with that?
