Back in the 1970s I used to, some people say, risk my life for a sandwich. Not any sandwich, mind you, but a hand-sliced mound of pastrami laid between two slices of good Jewish rye bread and slathered with mustard from Katz's Delicatessan on New York City's Lower East Side.

In those days it was a rough walk from Chinatown through a neighborhood which had not yet hit bottom in terms of gangs and graffiti. But I had a routine that included a potato knish at Yonah Schimmel's, a pastrami sandwich at Katz's, and a handful of rich California apricots tipped into a paper bag at Russ & Daughters' appetizing store -- my last stop on Houston Street.

Katz's is a place steeped in history. Although the Lower East Side is rapidly becoming a tight cluster of condos and clubs, Katz's remains what it has been since early in the 20th century, a Jewish deli -- nonkosher -- with all of those things tourists hear about: 3-foot-long salamis; the legendary drink, an egg cream, which contains neither eggs nor cream; and grumpy countermen who for a tip would flip you a piece of meat for "a little taste" and heap a few more slices between your slices of rye.

These places are mostly gone as pastrami has been replaced with designer pizzas, and pierogies now come stuffed with arugula and goat cheese at a former divey but now trendy coffee shop on Second Avenue.

Most recently (within the past month) I headed downtown to Katz's once again, walking about 50 blocks, to bring my daughter there after hearing rumors, again, that the property might be sold and the restaurant closed.

Over the years, this has been heard dozens of times, but with new construction everywhere I thought it best not to chance her waiting until 2008 when she would be in New York in school. Of course, when we arrived for dinner the place was packed, the line for the counter was growing, and everyone I asked about the rumors shrugged and answered with a "Who knows?"

Recent reports in the New York Times indicate that the owner has no intention of selling, but then again, in New York's need to reinvent itself, who knows?

But why would an old Jewish deli, one that still sports its World War II sign "Send a salami to your boy in the army," have any interest for a 20-year-old fashion-design major? Shouldn't she be pushing the corned beef and fries off her plate and raking on the mesclun?

Perhaps, but Katz's received a new life among the young when it became the place where Harry ate with Sally during the movie's most infamous scene.

In fact, the table is marked with an overhead sign, and to sit there is to risk constant stares from those imagining the pleasure of an overstuffed sandwich or whatever comes after.

For me, though, that night wasn't to include pastrami -- no matter how rich, how spicy or how satisfying it could be -- because there is another item on the menu which is just as decadent and just as bad for your waistline and it was my decision to go for it: a knoblewurst on a club roll.

Never heard of a knoblewurst? (It's also listed on the menu as a "knobel wurst.") Just think of a garlic-laden hot dog merely four times the size of a regular sausage.

Slice it roughly and pile it between 6 to 8 inches of a heavy French-style bread (no airy baguettes here), load it with a good brown deli mustard, side it with sour pickles and a very spicy mayo-based coleslaw, and follow it with a Dr. Brown's black cherry diet soda (oh the hypocrisy!).

An hour later you will crave another 50-block walk.