What seltzer means to you is probably based on when you were born and where you were from. Today, it’s popular in various flavored forms in cans and bottles, and even in alcoholic versions, but to many of us, it’s deeply tied to American Jewish culture and to the distinctive heavy glass bottle with the metal head and a siphon.

Which is not to say that for some it may bring memories of the Howdy Doody Show with Clarabell the Clown, or of Harpo Marx spraying an unsuspecting victim with seltzer. Spoiler: There is no picture of Harpo Marx doing that, and the only known squirt-in-the-face scene, in Duck Soup, uses a tube with a rubber bulb instead. Mandela effect: Everyone knows they’ve seen it, but it never happened.

My own seltzer memories start with my mother’s fancy aunt, Mrs. Lurie, who had the seltzer siphon on a silver tray with a doily, almost an artwork rather than a source of bubbly water. Years later, I was able to have a regular seltzer delivery in Brooklyn in the 1970s and 1980s, but the trade was dying, and as my children grew up, we weren’t drinking enough to be eligible for delivery. For us, the most important use of the seltzer was—more on that later—the egg cream, which famously involves no eggs and no cream.

That would have been the end of my knowledge of seltzer if I hadn’t come on a mention online of the Brooklyn Seltzer Museum; once found, it had to be visited, and I now know that, basically, I knew nothing about seltzer—and now I know more than I knew there was to know. The museum is on the premises of Brooklyn Seltzer Boys, the last filling and delivery operation of what were once dozens, even hundreds in Brooklyn.

Our docent, seen on the screen above and ‘live’ in several scenes below, was Kenny Gomberg, of the third generation of the company’s owners, and a man who could (and will) talk for hours about seltzer without being boring. He should be on TV. The company is now largely run by his son Alex, whom he credits with revitalizing the company, facilitating new merchandising and helping create the museum.
Kenny claims to be retired, but shows up more than the once a week the museum tour runs: He also maintains and rebuilds the machinery because there is no one left in the business to do it.


The museum and its collection of illustrations and historic facts were a joint project between the seltzer folks and Barry Joseph, a curator at the American Museum of Natural History who became fascinated with seltzer; he and his interns did most of the research and assembled the displays.



So: Where to begin? Seltzer as we know it these days is basically still water to which carbon dioxide is added to form bubbles. But, it turns out, that’s really not very different from those springs here and there around the world where nature does the work. As long ago as 400 BC, in Greece, it was recommended as a healthy beverage and bath. In Roman times, as later, it was sealed into clay jugs for shipping—but once opened, the fizz would soon be gone.

That kind of bottling also went on in the 18th century at the German spa of Niederselters, noted for its naturally-carbonated springs. That’s where the word ‘seltzer’ started. A naturally bubbly spring was also the making of New York’s upstate spa at Saratoga Springs.

In the U.S., seltzer became popular at soda fountains, restaurants, bars, drug stores: it could mix with any flavoring, had no harmful ingredients, and the bubbles were refreshing. Some reformers hoped it might replace beer… as if.

Toward the end of the 19th century, a new import changed things big-time for seltzer in the U.S.—the sealed siphon and bottle. Invented in France in 1829, the idea was to carbonate the water to purify it, and then seal it in a bottle that nothing could enter once it was sealed, but could still dispense water without opening the bottle. The bottles were filled under considerable pressure, which has both the possibility of blowing up a weak bottle, and of being sprayed in someone’s face.

It quickly became not only a popular home beverage, but a vaudeville prop. If the Marx Brothers ever actually used a seltzer bottle in their act, it would have been during their vaudeville stage career.

And now we take a sidestep, based on the display above, to note two of the biggest names in the seltzer story—a renowned scientist and a jeweler who bubbled his way into a new career and into history. Joseph Priestley, known for discovering the element oxygen and for controversial views that led him eventually to flee to America, also invented the first method for carbonating water. The jeweler, who figured out how to do that on a mass scale, was Jacob Schweppe. Name ring a bell?

Another name, but one that likely won’t ring a bell, is Anyos Jedlik, who built the first seltzer plant in Hungary in 1841. In his home town of Gydr, this fountain was built in his honor, featuring a seltzer siphon. Sorry, but I’m sometimes easily distracted. Back to the museum…


Because Brooklyn Seltzer Boys is the only remaining bottling plant in the northeast, and one of only three in the U.S., it has accumulated a lot of machinery abandoned by its competitors as they closed. Much of the machinery on display in the museum area of the bottling plant is not only exhibit but a source of parts to keep the machines in the back running. And Kenny Gomberg is nearly alone in being able to do that, although he’s teaching his son as he goes.

Kenny is the true highlight of the museum; while not as old as the machinery, his knowledge and passion go way back and way deep. After everyone’s had a chance to wander and read exhibits, he starts at the front with the carbon dioxide tank, positioned near the door for easy filling by delivery truck. It’s delivered in liquid form, and is piped to the back of the building, where the actual work takes place. The tank, by the way, was originally part of the fire control system of a battleship.

Where the process begins is at the filter stations, where city water is filtered first through clean sand, and then through activated carbon, and finally through fine-mesh paper filters. After that, it’s chilled, and then carbonated.

The broken bottle Kenny is holding shows how thick the seltzer siphon bottle is, nearly a quarter-inch. Almost all the bottles were made in the Czech Republic, and new ones haven’t been made for years—the system relies on getting them back. Why so thick, you ask, when supermarket seltzer comes in thin plastic bottles? The seltzer in the siphon is under much higher pressure, And, the worst that could happen with a supermarket bottle is to blow its cap, not scatter sharp glass.

The siphon is a sealed unit that’s never removed from the bottle except for repair or for replacing the bottle. It’s built to take that pressure. And the filling machine, below, has a trick to keep it that way. The bottle is put on the machine upside down, a sealed filler comes down over the spout, and a lever presses the handle to open the spout and allow seltzer in; once filled, the lever releases and the bottle, which has now completed a circuit inside the machine, is ready to go… and is still sealed.


The machine on the right, with the face shield to protect against any bursting bottle, is in use; the one to the left is being put back into service using parts from the one on display up front.

While there’s been no successful replacement for the old bottles, the blue heads you can see on some of the bottles in the background are new production from Brazil. They’ve been added to the mix out of necessity, although Brooklyn Seltzer also includes a repair shop for the old heads, with a supply of parts accumulated as others left the business.

And what’s the future of the seltzer business? Kenny has his thoughts. While it will never be what it was, he thinks there is enough interest to keep the business going, especially with younger family members trying out new merchandising and new connections. For a time, the company only filled bottles and serviced bars and restaurants. The pandemic cut off most of the commercial business—but also re-invigorated the home market, enough that Brooklyn Seltzer Boys went back into the delivery business. Perhaps only the supply of bottles limits the potential.


Oh, and the museum also deals with two other things you can do with seltzer. One is standing behind a screen taking a picture of your friend squirting you with a seltzer bottle.

And another is making an egg cream, which has only three ingredients—seltzer, whole milk and Fox’s U-Bet Chocolate Syrup—assembled in correct order. And here’s where I’m going to step aside from one of life’s great controversies, because the answer is buried as deep as the mysterious origin of the drink and the name. Some say seltzer first, some say syrup first, and more variations.
Where I will take a stand is: If you say egg cream, you don’t have to say chocolate, because any other flavor is unthinkable. Even if it’s made with Fox’s vanilla syrup. And, if the chocolate syrup isn’t Fox’s U-Bet, walk away. One taste will tell you why. Using Hershey’s or Bosco would be like substituting Lipton’s Noodle Soup for your grandmother’s chicken soup.

One of Alex Gomberg’s innovations, aside from museum and marketing, is merch. But, as Kenny pointed out, unlike other museums, you don’t have to go through the gift shop to leave the museum; rather, you have to leave the museum to buy your souvenirs.










George G, who solved our One-Clue Mystery for this post also delved deeper into the history, and turned up some more fascinating details about Anyos Jedik, who, it turns out, was a Benedictine priest, engineer and physicist. You can follow up HERE