Save the Deli: In Search of Perfect Pastrami, Crusty Rye, and the Heart of Jewish Delicatessen

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"Save the Deli: In Search of Perfect Pastrami, Crusty Rye, and the Heart of Jewish Delicatessen" Overview

Part culinary travelogue, part cultural history, part rallying cry, Save the Deli is a must-read for anyone whose idea of perfect happiness is tucking into a pastrami on rye with a pickle on the side.

 

Corned beef. Pastrami. Brisket. Matzo balls. Knishes. Mustard and rye. In this book about deli’s food, history, and characters, its greatest triumphs, spectacular failures, and ultimately its very future, David Sax goes deep into the world of the Jewish delicatessen. From New York to Chicago, Florida, L.A., Montreal, Toronto, Paris, and beyond, Sax strives to answer the question: Can the Jewish deli thrive, and if so, how?

 

Funny, poignant, and impeccably written, Save the Deli is the story of one man’s search to save a defining element of a culture—and the sandwiches—he loves.

"Save the Deli: In Search of Perfect Pastrami, Crusty Rye, and the Heart of Jewish Delicatessen" Specifications

Product Description
As a journalist and life-long deli obsessive, David Sax was understandably alarmed by the state of Jewish delicatessen--a cuisine that once sat at the very center of Jewish life had become endangered by assimilation, homogenization, and health food trends. He watched one beloved deli after another shut down, one institution after another shutter only to be reopened as some bland chain-restaurant laying claim to the very culture it just paved over. And so David set out on a journey across the United States and around the world in search of authentic delicatessen. Was it still possible to Save the Deli?

Join David as he investigates everything deli--its history, its diaspora, its next generation. He tells us about the food itself--how it's made, who makes it best, and where to go for particular dishes. And, ultimately, there there is for hope--David finds deli newly and lovingly made in places like Boulder, traditions maintained in Montreal, and iconic institutions like the 2nd Avenue Deli resurrected in New York. So grab a pastrami on rye and sit down for a great read--because Save the Deliis an energetic cultural history of Jewish food, a vibrant travelogue, and a rallying cry for a new generation of food lovers.

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Amazon Exclusive: A Letter from David Sax

Dear Amazon Reader,

I assume you're here because you either love Jewish deli like Jewish deli, or want to learn to love Jewish deli. Well, you're in luck. That's why I'm here too. In fact, that's the whole idea behind Save the Deli. If I can get twenty more people to eat a corned-beef sandwich, I've done my part. Mission accomplished, right?
Well, not exactly.

As you can see from some of the reader reviews already on Amazon, deli lovers are a fiercely opinionated bunch. They know what's the best and if anyone dares say otherwise, they're willing to hit the battlefield and inflict damage. Look into those reviews and you'll read criticisms about how I didn't go to X deli, or didn't go to Y city, and how dare I say that LA has deli that's as good, or even better than New York! Who am I to question the conventional wisdom about Jewish deli?

Blasphemy! Heresy! Heartburn!

But it's true. In Save the Deli, I talk not only about the great delis in New York--like Katz's, Carnegie, and 2nd Ave Deli--but also about unknown places in Detroit, Chicago, Salt Lake City, LA, Denver, Florida, and Toronto. I eat deli in London, Paris, and Krakow. The point here is to convince you that great deli knows no geographical bounds, that you can have a cabbage roll in Charlotte, North Carolina, that's better than one in Brooklyn, that great blintzes aren't tied to any one city or state.

Now before you light the pyre, let me tell you about how I came to this realization.

Three years ago, when I began working on this book, I too had fallen prey to the misguided notion that great deli was only confined to New York and Montreal. Anything outside those cities had to be a pale imitation. I, like many Jewish deli lovers, was narrow-minded,could see and imagine no further than the local delicatessen I frequented…a village simpleton who knows nothing beyond his little shtetl and the salamis therein.

But as I hit the road, in search of the story of delicatessen in American and around the world, I tasted revelation after revelation. It first happened in Brussels, where I encountered a fancy sandwich shop called Gilles. I dismissed it as a hokey deli until I layered their delicate smoked brisket on a warm onion roll and realized an entire new world of deli potential. Two weeks later I was in Paris, eating chopped liver with foie gras, duck sausage, and calves-foot jelly at Maison David. I'd stepped through the looking glass.

When I hit the road in America things were no different. Who knew the rye bread in Detroit was the best anywhere? Who knew a new deli in Boulder, Colorado, made its own schmaltz? Who could suspect the level of kitchen prowess I'd find in Los Angeles, where a kishke at Brent's blew me away?

Do you know what it's like to be blown away by kishke? It's akin to a religious moment; your mouth is so in love with this crackling fat-stuffed sausage that it floods your brain with endorphins. It's a watershed event. I'd love for you to experience that.

Great deli knows no geographical limits. If there's one thing I learned on this whole journey to Save the Deli, that's it. I hope everyone that reads this book will realize this. It doesn't mean the delis in your hometown serve up sandwiches any less delicious than before. It doesn't mean that the deli you grew up with in Brooklyn was anything less than spectacular. But I implore you to look out beyond your deli counter at the world of possibilities. Then go. And taste. You won't regret it.

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Key Yiddish and Food Terms (so you don’t sound like a schmuck) from Save the Deli: In Search of Perfect Pastrami, Crusty Rye, and the Heart of Jewish Delicatessen

Fress: To eat a lot. A big eater is a fresser.
"He polished off two sandwiches and a knish. Quite the fresser."

Treyf: Unkosher. "I don't eat Reubens, they're pure treyf."

Maven: A master. "Ziggy Gruber calls himself a deli maven."

Haymish: Like home. "Such a haymish deli. His mother's in the kitchen."

Schmutz: Dirt. "There was so much schmutz there it was like eating in a bus station."

Goyish: Gentile, or exuding a non-Jewish vibe.
"That deli is really goyish. I mean, they serve lobster rolls."

Chutzpah: Nerve. "You got a lot of chutzpah to ask for butter on that sandwich."

Kvetch: To complain. Every diner's right at a deli.
"She came in, ate, and then kvetched at me for twenty minutes about the soup's color."

Gonif: A thief. "Sixteen dollars for a sandwich? Those gonifs!"

Nosh: To eat a little. A nibbler is a nosher. "I'll stop by, but just for a nosh."

Meshugah: Crazy. "You've gotta be meshugah to pay those prices."

Kibitz: To joke. "Mel Brooks was in yesterday, kibitzing with everyone."

Plotz: To keel over. "I ate so much I could plotz."

Shonda: A shame. "They took herring off the menu...such a shonda."

To Die For: The highest culinary compliment.
"The rolled beef was to die for" or "The rolled beef: to die."

Zay Gezunt: Be in health. "See you next week. Zay gezunt."

Ess Gezunt: Eat in health. "Ess Gezunt. Enjoy that sandwich."

Shmear: To spread, though also a term for all spreads.
"What kinds of shmear can I get with this bagel?"

L'Chaim: Cheers. "Is it cool to say l'chaim with Cel-Ray?"

Bissel: A little bit. "Gimme a bissel of that chopped liver."

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The Deli Diaspora--A Sampling of Save the Deli Favorites
(Click on Images to Enlarge)

East Coast Delis

2nd Avenue Deli in New York, NY

The Kosher Cajun in Metairie, LA

Zingerman's in Ann Arbor, MI

West Coast Delis

Jimmy and Drew's 28th Street in Boulder, CO

Langer's in Los Angeles, CA

Miller's East Coast Delicatessen in San Francisco, CA

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The Man Who Ate His Boots: The Tragic History of the Search for the Northwest Passage

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"The Man Who Ate His Boots: The Tragic History of the Search for the Northwest Passage" Overview

After the triumphant end of the Napoleonic Wars in 1815, the British took it upon themselves to complete something they had been trying to do since the sixteenth century: find the fabled Northwest Passage. For the next thirty-five years the British Admiralty sent out expedition after expedition to probe the ice-bound waters of the Canadian Arctic in search of a route, and then, after 1845, to find Sir John Franklin, the Royal Navy hero who led the last of these Admiralty expeditions. Enthralling and often harrowing, The Man Who Ate His Boots captures the glory and the folly of this ultimately tragic enterprise.

From the Trade Paperback edition.

"The Man Who Ate His Boots: The Tragic History of the Search for the Northwest Passage" Specifications

A Q&A with Anthony Brandt

Question: In The Man Who Ate His Boots you tell the rousing and often horrifying story of the search for the Northwest Passage, the holy grail of nineteenth century British exploration. Why did so many people invest such time, energy, and effort in to this search?

Anthony Brandt: There’s no simple answer. In part it had seemed since the 16th century--when the Spanish and the Portuguese were claiming all the easier routes to the Far East--like a peculiarly British mission to find this great unknown route to the East via the north; and after 1815, when the Napoleonic Wars ended with such a decisive British victory and the seas were theirs, the chance to use idle ships and idle seamen to find it became too attractive to resist. The British now thought they could do anything, no matter how difficult, especially at sea. But it was also to some degree the product of one man’s enthusiasm, and that was John Barrow, the powerful second secretary of the Admiralty, who believed in an open, unfrozen, polar sea; and he had an ally in the first lord of the Admiralty, the second Lord Melville, who supported the idea and was able to gather Parliamentary support. The British people were excited by the idea, too, and got behind it.

Question: Was the mission a fool’s errand?

Anthony Brandt: It proved to be so, and there were skeptics from the beginning. But at the time the Arctic was completely unknown. The map was blank above 80 degrees north in all areas, and above 70 degrees north in most. Nobody knew what the Arctic Ocean was like, or whether there even was an Arctic Ocean for that matter. For all they knew Greenland might extend to Asia, and some mapmakers thought it did. Others firmly believed that salt water could not freeze. The Greenland whalers knew better, but they weren’t scientists, they were commercial fishermen, and men like Barrow paid no attention to them. They weren’t gentlemen. In retrospect, then, it certainly seems like a fool’s errand, but life does not happen in retrospect, and what seems foolish now seemed like a noble effort at the time.

Question: Your title refers to John Franklin’s 1819 failed expedition where 11 of the 20 men in the exploration party died of starvation and the survivors were forced to eat their boots! Franklin’s expedition is perhaps the most famous, but there were dozens of missions sent to the Arctic in the first half of the nineteenth century, one failure after another. Each of the commanding officers felt as if he was prepared for the journey ahead, so what was it that doomed these expeditions to failure and death?

Anthony Brandt: The Arctic is intractable. No amount of preparation can ensure a person’s safety in an environment full of so much risk. The margin of survival is extremely narrow in the Arctic, and even small mistakes--the loss of a glove; forgetting to bring sun glasses; the sudden collapse of an ice floe--can kill you, and in a very short time. More of Franklin’s men might have survived in 1821 if he had turned back a week earlier, or even a few days. To survive in the Arctic, one must be very bold; one must also be very cautious.

Question: What has been the legacy of these explorers? Should we remember them as heroes?

Anthony Brandt: Hero is a word that makes me uneasy. One man’s hero is another’s devil. There are multiple sides to every story. I prefer the word courageous. Parry, Franklin, the two Rosses: whatever one thinks of the project they were engaged on, there can be no question of their courage. One holds one’s breath as Lt. Parry picks his way between the ice and the shoreline, half blinded by fog sometimes, hoping the wind doesn’t shift and trap him between an ice floe perfectly capable of turning his ship into splinters and a shoreline composed of solid rock. These men were often religious, and one can’t help but think that they would almost have to be, to do what they did.

Question:The Man Who Ate His Boots is full of eccentric characters, many of whom bicker with each other in highly entertaining public battles. If you had to pick one, which historical character was most fun for you to bring to life?

Anthony Brandt: I suppose egotistical, cranky, battleworn, and almost always wrong John Ross was my favorite sailor on this trip. For me he gave the stereotype of the British eccentric new levels of meaning, and it was always fun to watch him mess things up. The fact that he had once been run through with a bayonet added a bit of spice to his character, and his pamphlet wars with various enemies were always entertaining. But for sheer love I'll opt for Lady Jane, John Franklin's wife and one of the most extraordinary women of her time, surely the most intrepid woman traveler of the first half of the 19th century. I keep hoping someone will write a new biography of her. I got carried away a few times and devoted too much space to her and had to cut back. I think the memorial to her husband in Westminster Abbey should really be a memorial to her.

Question: Thanks to global warming, in the summer of 2007, the Northwest Passage opened to ship traffic. What can you tell us about the future of the Northwest Passage?

Anthony Brandt: I wish I knew, so that I could invest in it. But, joking aside, the Passage was open in 2007 and 2008, but not in 2009. I doubt that it will be open reliably every summer for a while, perhaps a decade. But inevitably, if warming continues at the present rate, I don’t see how it won’t open every summer by 2020, and that will cut thousands of miles off the present sea routes to the Pacific from the Atlantic, and vice versa, reducing costs for shippers all over the world. Is this a good thing? Obviously, only in the short term, and only for shippers--and possibly oil and natural gas producers, if they find as much oil and natural gas as they think exists in the Arctic Basin. Already the Northwest Passage is a tourist attraction of sorts, and a Russian icebreaker makes the trip every summer with paying passengers. Maybe they’ll take me along on one of these trips. I’d like to see it, if I can sleep in a warm cabin and eat good food while I’m there.

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