The counter at Jason's Deli is a beehive of activity as employees prepare orders. Photo by Jerry Henkel/Review-Journal
Jason's Deli, it's called. But is Jason's a deli?
Let's take stock: No matzo ball soup. No egg creams. No chopped liver, no Nova. I'd say no, this isn't a deli.
So it's a sandwich shop, but that's not to count Jason's out. It would be difficult, for example, to really kvetch about The New York Yankee ($5.95), a piled-up-to-here sandwich of pretty decent corned beef and pastrami. Not perfect, you understand (no kvetch, but a few quibbles); we went to the Maryland Parkway Jason's, and while the sandwich was billed as having hot corned beef and pastrami, what we were served was cold, and the rye bread was softer than we'd find in any self-respecting New York deli.
Then again, it wasn't $12, either; what we think the people crowding into Jason's like is the value that can be found there. The New York Yankee, for example, was stacked with what had to approach a pound of meat. A dill pickle on the side was as limp as the bread, but the ruffle-cut chips were crisp -- and sort of burned in spots, in the Wise tradition.
Jason's also specializes in muffulettas (they have po' boys, too). I already told you this wasn't a real deli, but it's not a New Orleans grocery, either. The half ham muffuletta ($9.95 for a whole, which serves two, $6.95 for a half, which is still too big for one, or $4.95 for a quarter, which I'd get next time) was pretty decent, especially if you've never had the real thing. Again, the bread's a little softer than the original, but the olive spread's a decent version and the ham, salami and provolone piled on make it a pretty tasty proposition.
Oh, and we liked the chicken pot pie ($2.95 for a cup, $4.25 for a bowl). We had a cup, and were served a sort of chicken stew with a creamy base and a prodigious amount of chicken chunks and vegetables, topped with a square of lightly browned puff pastry that provided a really nice touch.
The broccoli-cheese soup ($1.95 for a cup, $2.95 for a bowl) was pretty good, too -- hot and creamy, really cheesy without being cloying, with just enough broccoli (albeit tiny pieces of broccoli) to make things interesting.
They offer free soft-serve for dessert. Nice touch, even it was melted and basically flavorless. In case you're not familiar, Jason's is pretty much a self-serve kind of place (and kind of a clamorous one, at that); you order at the counter and take a numbered flag to your table and they bring by the sandwiches when they're ready (the sandwiches, not the employees, although come to think of it ...). That gives you a chance to check out the free soft-serve and a few other touches that were above and beyond this kind of place, such as two varieties of (free) flavored syrups to add to your coffee and a decent selection of teas.
So no, Jason's isn't a deli. It isn't a place you go to impress a date, either (unless your date has a hankering for a muffuletta and the private jet is tied up). It's not the kind of place you'd go for the atmosphere, or an intimate evening.
The salads, wraps and stuffed baked potatoes notwithstanding, Jason's is a sandwich shop, pure and simple. And in this, the 240th anniversary year of the sandwich, that's a noble endeavor in and of itself.
Las Vegas Review-Journal restaurant reviews are unannounced and done anonymously at Review-Journal expense.