Radin’s Delicatessen is the swan song for Philly’s pastrami king, Russ Cowan. It may also be his best deli yet

“So, this is the new 4th Street?” said the gentleman from Philadelphia, who arrived at the host stand at Radin’s Delicatessen and sized up the room.

“Yup,” said his companion. “But in Cherry Hill.”

I was deeply involved in exploring the fragrant mountain of corned beef hash and eggs that had just landed at my table when this pair appeared at Radin’s, just a few feet from where I was seated. But I looked up when I heard their exchange.

The vast orange and mint green dining hall with seating for 110 in this bright new suburban strip mall looked nothing like Famous 4th Street Delicatessen in Queen Village. That century-old institution at Fourth and Bainbridge, whose black-and-white-tiled dining room and window pane-wrapped corner porch has hosted generations of Philly politicos, celebrities, U.S. presidents, and enthusiastic matzo ball-loving civilians over its storied history, has what you call a well-worn patina. (And now Famous has a new out-of-town owner, too.)

The draw to three-month-old Radin’s in South Jersey is Russ Cowan, Famous 4th Street Deli’s previous owner, whose track record over the past 35 years as Philly’s Jewish deli king has been as successful as any in the region’s restaurant industry. Wherever Cowan goes, an ambrosial cloud of corned beef steam follows, luring crowds of deli faithful like the Pied Piper of Pastrami.

Cowan creates destination delis, with scratch-made food so consistently satisfying, from house-cured meats to spirit-lifting soups, they commonly draw diners across state lines. He’s also a serial entrepreneur, addicted to opening restaurants then selling them at the height of their success, then moving on to the next project. His previous projects include Bread & Bagels, Pastrami & Things, Mr. Bill’s, and multiple versions of the Kibitz Room. I worried he’d do this with Famous, too, given its historic significance, and, of course, he did just that. To be fair, his 18-year stewardship of the Philly landmark (est. 1923) can hardly be called a flip: he elevated the old haunt to a new level of culinary respect and also kept the bricks, so as landlord he’s invested in its continued success.

Radin’s is Cowan’s 20th store and most likely his last, he says. But this swan song deli, built to his exacting details and outfitted with a trove of Radin family nostalgia, may also be his most heartfelt project yet.

Cowan has never stopped refining his craft, even though the 68-year-old has been slow-cured in tradition. He’s a fourth-generation deli guy whose grandfather and uncles started the first Radin Brothers on Manhattan’s Lower East Side in 1905 before expanding to Brooklyn, where Russ grew up. Part of his secret as a survivor in a genre that’s seen steady attrition over recent years has been his ability to continuously evolve and improve his essential ingredients, often by necessity as commodity markets shift and old purveyors, many of them longtime friends, fall away.

His pastrami is the latest example. Cowan switched to the fattier deckle cut of brisket a few years ago when the usual navel cuts became increasingly inconsistent due to supply chain shortages. His meat is now so beautifully laced with marbling that, once it’s brined for five days, encrusted with pepper and coriander, smoked, and then given a slow morning ride in the steamer, is so tender with fast-basted savor, I’d put a slice of it dabbed with a schmear of brown mustard up against anyone’s fancy Wagyu. At a moment when more restaurants than ever are making their own pastrami (Bart’s Bagels’ deeply smoked version is a new favorite, as is Middle Child Clubhouse’s), Cowan’s bold-yet-balanced rendition remains the gold standard. He carefully ages hard salamis like dangling beef chimes above his counter, with some special links shriveling for months until they’re sliced into ruby rings of dried meat and spice. Cowan’s corned beef is legendary, too.

And at Radin’s, which replaced the former Short Hills Deli following a major renovation, the maestro now has space to roam, with what is one of the region’s largest curing rooms for corned beef, pastrami, and tongue, where more than one ton of beef (2,500 pounds!) is pickling in barrels at any given time.

He will use them briskly, given the mega-platters this kitchen puts out. Cowan was behind the counter at the legendary Stage Deli in Manhattan during his college years in the 1970s when he says a fierce competition with the Carnegie, its Midtown rival, helped fuel a portion inflation race that pushed sandwiches to a pound of meat or more, the skyscraper Reubens that became iconic for the New York deli style.

Cowan remains a proponent of the shock-and-awe portion, with towering sandwiches that routinely elicit “Oh. My. God!” gasps when they land on the table. They’re often served beside tureens of chicken soup almost as big as jacuzzis bobbing with kreplach dumplings, rice and kasha, and airy softball-size matzo balls enriched with schmaltz. But here’s the thing: Cowan’s food isn’t just huge. It’s also delicious. He pays respect to the smallest details, like the deeply savory chicken liver and beef stuffing inside those frumpy kreplach.

That restorative cure-all soup, which can easily feed four, has become an icon of Philadelphia comfort food, steeped from whole chickens, onions, and parsnips in 40 gallon pots each day. The soup garnered $175,000 in DoorDash delivery orders alone for Famous in 2023, he said. The Cherry Hill clientele at Radin’s, Cowan says, prefers dining in more than takeout-centric Philly, especially for dinners of roast brisket over latkes and stuffed cabbage filled with beef and rice in sweet and sour gravy.

“And over here [in Cherry Hill] they’re not sharing — they take it home,” he says.

We’re at a key moment in Famous 4th Street’s current transition when we’ll discover whether that deli’s more recent success was the institution itself or Cowan’s tenure there. A line of customers cued up at Famous’ front door one recent Sunday morning just before opening was a testament to its importance in the routine rhythms of the city. A table was already set for the woman in front of me who comes each Sunday after church for her egg and cheese sandwich. The 30-year-old behind me, eager to pick up lox and latkes for his family, has been a Famous regular his entire life. “It’s been here 100 years, I hope it lasts another century,” he said.

I have concerns. Cowan’s delis have always slipped after he sold to successors who, despite getting his recipes with the business, inevitably cut corners and delegate management. And the turmoil at Famous began faster than expected. Major front-of-the-house turnover occurred less than a week after it was sold in January to Connecticut-based Locals 8, according to a lawsuit recently filed against the deli’s new owner by its first general manager, who was fired after six days. Locals 8 founder Al Gamble has been on-site trying to steady the ship. I’d heard online grumbling about portion shaving, but my recent meal there was fairly solid and showed no signs of lighter sandwiches. There were some off details, though, like the checkerboard cake that was carelessly built with a pale icing that didn’t taste at all like the usual mocha. On Wednesday, the city Health Department ordered the Famous to close due to a series of health code violations. Gamble has vowed prompt corrections and a swift reopening.

A steady hands-on presence has always been essential to Cowan’s consistent success, along with a staff that’s willing to follow him. You’ll see longtime Famous server Michael Williams plying his patient kindness in the dining room now at Radin’s. Behind the scenes, there’s manager Jon Park, who’s worked with Cowan for 22 years, keeping the food on point, from the artfully hand-sliced fish (with carefully curated cuts of smoked sturgeon, sable, and nova), to constructing the double-decker “Ungashtupt” (Yiddish for “gaudy”) combo sandwiches with pairings of multiple ingredients that defy gravity by standing upright.

I used to regard these towering 20-ounce monuments of meat and seeded rye as gimmicks of overpriced sandwich excess, whose girth no mortal jaw could comfortably embrace in a single bite. But lately, I’ve come to think $28 is not so bad for a dish that’s actually enough for two or more meals in an era of skyrocketing beef prices.

I’ve also begun employing other approaches to eating these behemoth sandwiches that have been rewarding. There’s the obvious unpacking method, to deconstruct the layers and pillage its tasty parts. Even better is to leave the stack whole, use the oversize toothpick like a turning skewer, and attack the composition like a piranha, chomping away at its gargantuan sides to appreciate the ensembles of contrasting flavors as they were meant to be enjoyed. The tricolor flag of the Flatbush Avenue’s peppery pastrami, mild turkey, and garlicky corned beef all harmonize beneath sweet pink drizzles of Russian dressing laced with crunchy coleslaw. The Nostrand Avenue takes pastrami to a deeper, earthier place with chopped liver and onions. The World’s Fair brings pastrami together with a snappy-skinned hot dog on a flaky knish with melted Swiss.

Pastrami also finds its way into Cowan’s clever “deli chili.” There are pastrami bits adding extra zhuzh to the griddle-crisped corned beef hash, along with soft potato nubs, sweet peppers, and onions. And yes, you can order burgers with pastrami, pastrami with eggs, and pastrami cheesesteaks, too.

Please just don’t tempt Cowan to include pastrami with dessert. His sweets case is a master class in the disappearing art of old-fashioned Euro pastries — babkas, rugelach, cheesecakes, and curb-size sponge cakes that get cut into moist squares bound with colorful icing — that are essential to a balanced meal. And they’re just as much a part of the long, proud deli legacy that Cowan has gifted Philadelphia over the past 35 years, no matter where he roams.

📍486 Evesham Rd., Cherry Hill, N.J. 08003, 📞 856-509-5492, 🌐 radinsdelicatessen.com, 💵 sandwiches, $11-$29.

There is a large free parking lot, and the restaurant is wheelchair accessible.

The fresh deli meats are all gluten-free, but baking is done on-site.

Menu highlights: Radin’s chicken soup; mushroom barley soup; special chopped liver (with fried onions, eggs, and horseradish); corned beef hash; french fries; any sandwich with pastrami or corned beef; stuffed cabbage; brisket dinner over latkes; hot open-faced turkey over rye; checkerboard cake, cheesecake.