I recently acquired an original copy of the 1952 edition of Lüchow’s cookbook. What I was expecting was the time honored recipes from America’s most famous German restaurant for their sauerbratten, lentil soup, venison stews, potato pancakes and roulade. What I got was something even better.

The 64-year-old book, which was obviously lovingly cared for, has only a  few notations in the margins of some of the recipes.   The recipe for “Broiled Deviled Short Ribs” has a brown dot near the top of the page which may be the archaeological evidence of “English mustard, olive oil, bread crumbs and mustard sauce” or it may simply be a little grease from what was no doubt a delicious batch of short ribs. The oven temp of 325F is crossed out and “350” is penciled in the margin. Next to where the book says “Broil under moderate heat until browned” is written, this time in pen: “very short time.”  When you open to this page the binding becomes slightly exposed suggesting that this was a common page for the prior owner to have the book opened to and laying flat on the kitchen counter.

The physical book embodies the love of one who owned it but it is the first Chapter that moved me as much as any cookbook has ever moved me. It is a story of love with all the irrationality and obsession that characterizes enduring love.  An epic story of one man’s journey to his destiny, spanning generations in the ever-changing, multilayered island of Manhattan. Of a massive and mythical restaurant that calls to him like a siren song, drawing him into its history and his future.

The story begins with millionaire piano magnate Joseph Steinway putting up the money to buy out the young August Lüchow’s employer and rename the restaurant “Lüchow’s“.   At a time when 14th Street was full of German “bier gartens” and Italian wine restaurants, Lüchow’s immediately became the flagship as Steinway brought the era’s best pianists and musicians for lavish meals. Live music in the restaurant soon followed with an 8-piece orchestra imported from the old country to serenade a sea of well-heeled diners.  ASCAP was founded inside of the restaurant’s walls and the song “Yes Sir, That’s My Baby” was so feverishly inspired by the muses, food and copiously flowing beer, that is was penned directly on the tablecloth of Eddie Cantor’s table.

The story goes on. Lüchow’s not only survived Prohibition but emerged from it in 1933 with honor.  Lüchow’s cancelled 4 straight years of New Year’s Eve parties because Herr Lüchow refused to sully his beloved emporium with the illicit liquor that patrons had to smuggle in in hip flasks. Lüchow’s record during Prohibition was so impeccable that when Prohibition finally ended and the world’s finest lager and pilsners flowed again on 14th Street, New York City honored August Lüchow with Liquor License Number 1.

While his restaurant survived Prohibition, August Lüchow did not and in 1923 ownership passed to Victor Eckstein, his nephew in-law. Victor presided over a grand chapter in Lüchow’s history, when the restaurant was a parade of the biggest and best known figures of the 20th Century — John Barrymore, Irving Berlin, Cole Porter, Walter P Chrysler, Antonin Dvorak, Lillian Gish, Marlene Deitrich,  Florenz Zeigfeld, Richard Rogers and Oscar Hammerstein.

Meanwhile in Europe, Jan Mitchell spent his youth in grand dining halls watching the preparations for grand hunting feast. Mitchell believed he was “headed for the country squire’s life” until his first visit to the United States in 1932. He recalls that entering Lüchow’s was a turning point. The atmosphere, food and tradition’s engendered an insatiable lust that would only be cured by owning Lüchow’s.

He was of no relation to Eckstein or anyone else well connected to the property but he embarked on a 13 year quest that included attending hotel management schooling in Zurich and the purchase of long-standing restaurant in Washington D.C.  in 1940 (an apt  time to leave Europe). During WWII, Mitchell made many trip to New York, each time trying to convince Eckstein to sell it to him. He promised to keep the traditions and atmosphere consistent but was rebuffed many times. By 1945, Eckstein was finally convinced and a restaurant that had played host to thousands of marriage proposals agreed to a marriage of its own — Eckstein sold to Jan Mitchell.

Mitchell’s enduring memory of his ownership is embodied in his recalling an early Christmas there. A pine tree towered 25-feet tall in the high ceiling cafe’ area, adorned with 2500 “electric candles” that were not lit until Christmas Eve in keeping with the German tradition. An orchestra from Bavaria played “Silent Night” as diners sang together and as the evening came to its end, the aging friends of August Lüchow shook the hand of its newest owner and told him, some with tears on their cheeks: “If August Lüchow came in tonight he would feel right at home — Nothing has changed.”