Race Day - Savvy Boston Marathoners chow down on deli

A little known fact, but a properly marbled pastrami or corned beef is rich in the slow-burning calories ideal for sustained aerobic exercise and also the lubrication essential to runner's knees on Boston's grueling course. And there's no more efficient or more enjoyable way to recover from the rigors of the race than to replenish depleted stocks with deli.

Best of luck to all.

Since first posting this, I've been asked where runners, race fans, or simply deli-starved citizens can obtain the real thing - NYDP artisan deli specialties - today. Please visit our friends at:
Russo's, Watertown; Fruit Center, Milton or Hingham; Idylwilde Farm, Acton; Bleacher Bar, Fenway; Deluxe Town Diner, Watertown; Cardullos, Harvard Square; Butcher Boy, North Andover; Coop Food Stores in Hanover and Lebannon, NH; Buttery, South End; and lots of other places that our distributors haven't told us about yet or our website: www.MoreFlavorPerPound.com for more information and consumer direct sales.

More Flavor Per Pound. It's the Law.

Manhattan Deli-Arts

Well, it's official. deli-arts.com lives.

We've just launched the website for Deli-Arts (and Manhattan Deli-Arts in particular).
I have refrained from writing about my commercial endeavors here until now - and honestly I'm not sure yet if I'll continue that policy in general - but as I've been absent from this blog for a long time, I figure I owe an explanation.

I've been busy starting a business. In fact, we've been making and selling our Artisan Deli Classics for about a year now. But we've been slow to the web.

Please stay in touch with the blog going forward as I'm renewing my commitment to writing Noshstalgia - cheering for the heroes who bring us great things, and sharing some of the challenges and lessons learned in bringing old-time product to market.

In the meantime - Thanks to all who've contributed to taking some of my Noshstalgia out of the blogosphere and into the real world: Family, Investors, Suppliers, Distributors, Retailers, our fine Restaurant accounts, deli-mavens who support our efforts, and my partner John O'Brien who brings decades of experience in the deli products business to the team.

Flanken and musings on exercise, values, and food prices

With all the attention I've been giving to brisket, corned beef, pastrami, and now flanken it would be understandable if readers supposed we eat nothing but the heaviest of meats around here. Not so, we actually include lots of lighter fare in the mix - but these items have been the topic of study around here for the past few months. And I admit it's a lot of heavy meat.

So that got me thinking about a piece I saw on tv a while back - I think it was on PBS. They were profiling a guy who had set up his office so he could do all his work while walking on a treadmill. He had no desk or chair. His phone and workstation were mounted for use while walking on the treadmill. Throughout the day, as he did his work, he was walking continuously. He seemed happy. And healthy. I bet he could eat whatever he wanted with impunity.

So now I'm wondering (if only half seriously) how I could install a section of moving sidewalk in my kitchen work area. A challenge to be sure. The way my kitchen is set up, I have a number of workstations. While working at any one of these, the treadmill set-up could work. It's the moving from one to the other that's going to be hard. Hmmm.

Well anyway, until such time as I figure that out, let's talk flanken. Now flanken is a great cut of meat for braising.

But wait - first, stream of impending unconsciousness-wise - I've got to tell you, I just stepped over to my (still stationary) kitchen and sampled some experimental corned beef that's been steaming most of the afternoon. This steaming was actually the second phase of a multi-step cooking process that began early this morning. Wow! This is the tenderest piece of corned beef I think I've ever had. Not falling apart. Not dried out. But buttery soft. And I have to tell you there were times earlier in the day when I was sure this piece of meat would never be any good. Long, complicated procedure but a startlingly good result. Have to try this again tomorrow and see if it comes out the same. And then of course there's the question of economics. Will anyone be willing to pay a fair price for all the time, handling, and energy necessary to this process?

Ok, back to flanken. Talk about stick to your ribs. So I'm working with this stuff because I recently showed a customer a braised kobe brisket product that they went crazy over - except for the price. So now I'm trying to come up with something more affordable for them and that brings us back to flanken. This is a value cut with which you can obtain luxury results. I've prepared it many ways over the years, and it's pretty hard to go wrong as long as you go low and slow. Braised with some wine and aromatics, deviled, tagine with prunes or olives, whatever. Great stuff. I recommend you play with some this winter. There's plenty of good recipes available online.

So before I go, let me pose this question. Where chief-value meat ingredients and prepared foods are concerned, why is the variation in pricing allocable to quality (worst to best) so comparatively small? Certainly where some other kinds of products are concerned the spread is wide. Consider cheese. I can easily find domestic cheese offerings ranging from $2.00 to $32.00 per pound (16X). How about domestic wine? $2 to $200 per bottle is not a stretch (100X). In neither case are these fashion items or branded goods with large marketing budgets. They're just products that vary in quality and price where connoisseurs are willing to pay for what they like.

What about meat (or fish)? If you've been shopping in mainstream supermarkets lately, you must have noticed that run-of-the-mill steaks might cost you around $7 a pound. And, in many stores are likely to be graded "select" (feh). Not a high-quality piece of meat there. In a specialty butcher shop carrying high-quality commercial beef, and perhaps even dry-aging it, you might expect to pay 4 or perhaps 5 times that. Never mind the mail-order guys asking still more - that's a topic for another day. But the bricks-and-mortar retail spread from low to high for a given nominally identical cut of beef spans perhaps a multiple of 5 times. Why not more? I'm not arguing that we should all happily pay more - I'm just wondering why we do it for cheese and wine, but not for meat.

Any thoughts?

Pastrami, Corned Beef, Noshstalgia and more ...

To any readers who may have noticed my relative silence over the past several weeks - I apologize. I've been busy, and I'm about to tell you why.

If you've been reading Noshstalgia for a while, you know that I'm more than a little obsessed with pastrami. Corned beef too. I've tried most every reputable brand, deli or restaurant offering here in Boston, down in New York and anywhere else my travels take me. Certainly there are places offering enjoyable products - some of them truly great - but still, I've never been entirely satisfied.

And so, I set out to see if I could produce something myself - something that did it. Yes, it's magic meat we're after. Time travel inducing sandwiches. One bite and you're back. Back where it all began - where indelible sense memories were planted.

Well, as other intrepid neophytes to making pastrami have oft reported - getting this stuff right takes some work. But after many months of effort, I'm pleased to report that I've got a repeatable, reliable, artisan quality - but commercial scale - process for what I believe is the best there is. More recently, I went to work on corned beef too, and now I think we're almost there with that also. I've served many people at this point - and they have been unanimous - There's magic in that meat.

Amongst other things, what I've discovered in this exploration of deli meat production is that while tradition and deep memories are essential to informing the process, selective use of more innovative, modern methods can yield great - perhaps greater than ever before - results.

Emboldened (maybe even intoxicated) by the the aromas, flavors, textures, and rave reviews from hundreds of consumer taste tests, I began working on a business plan to try and bring these products to market. I'm pleased to report that - although it's nearly impossible to make money on really high-quality meat - I think I've found a way to at least get started and share the deli high.

Once having tasted the pastrami, there was no stopping my pursuit of other "great lost tastes" - so now there are several other Noshstalgia-inspired products also in the works that I'm not yet prepared to discuss publicly. Honestly I haven't even determined yet what to call my fledgling venture (royalty-free suggestions welcome) - nor have I resolved how, if at all, this blog relates to it. But I felt I owed any readers who might have been wondering what happened to me an explanation. I will try to make time, once again, to post more regularly, and I will try and keep readers up to date with developments on this new business venture.

Hash

Corned beef hash and the closely related hash-browned potatoes are two of the most maligned great traditional foods in the land. These popular items can be seen on menus all over the country. Hash-browns are so ubiquitous as to be included even at the likes of McDonald's. At least nominally. Corned beef hash is sold in cans in most every supermarket. And served from cans in most every diner. There are exceptions of course - but they are just that. Exceptions.

I can think of some places I've had actual hash. Some more traditional than others.

Many years ago, one could get a terrific hash - either corned beef or (get this) roast beef - at the dining room of the Ritz Carlton in Boston. You'd have to wear a tie to breakfast to partake. But it was worth it. Every morning, they'd use up the corned beef and roast beef they had left from the previous evening's dinner service to perpare quite good hash. And they would poach your egg properly. Needless to say, being the Ritz, and being in Boston, they didn't have proper rye bread for toast - but that's just quibbling. The meat was fresh, and the food was prepared with earnest respect for a deservedly great tradition.

Today, at the Carnegie Deil in Manhattan, you can get corned beef or pastrami hash of a sort. I regard their offering as a food of interest, but do not find it satisfying of my expectations of a proper hash. I could go into what's amiss there, but I'd rather first recognize them for trying. It's an honest product - and if you like it, you'll be delighted with the portion. As with the fabled sandwiches there - it is huge.

About a year back, I had a really good, albeit non-traditional, corned beef hash at The Davenport Hotel in Spokane, Washington. The Davenport is a remarkable place for many reasons. Actually it's a sufficient reason to visit Spokane all on its own. The hash is a bonus.

Probably there are dozens of places doing creditable work in the hash department across the country. But how do we account for the tens of thousands of other places serving something barely distinguishable from canned dog-food as hash? How do we account for the continuing popularity of hash despite the abuse heaped upon this once great food and its fans.

And as for "hash-browns" - although the standard expected quality of product offered in this category is not so patently offensive as with the meat-containing ersatz hash preparations above -- Still, have people lost their minds?
How does a deep fried, processed, formed potato-food thing get to be "hash-browns"?
Perhaps this is modern day hash-brown haiku. It's the irreducible essence -
"There's potato and there's crunch. (sneeringly) What more do you want, Mr. Noshstalgia?"

Somebody has to set the record straight. And as it will soon be Sunday morning in America, the proper time and place for hash-browns and perhaps even hash - Here are the facts:

Hash was (as at the Ritz) originally a means to use up first-rate dinner service leftovers.

* So if you don't have first rate meat to work with, have something else for breakfast. A nice omelet maybe.

The potatoes also are best if left over. You can of course start from scratch, but it's a long, slow process.

* Boiled potatoes are used most frequently, but I love to use up baked potatoes in this way. Personal preference. The important point is that they have been cooked before and allowed to cool so the starch has rectified. You don't want to start in trying to work with still-hot just cooked potatoes.

Potatoes for hash-browns should be cut into large enough pieces to retain a distinct potato presence in the final dish.

* No riced potatoes here. No mashed potatoes here. You want distinct pieces of potato with planar sufaces and angular edges. When you're done making your hash-browns they should exhibit a broad variation of texture - from crunch, through integral but fluffy interiors to the soft, rich, griddle-grease infused mash that binds it all together.

There should (make that must) be onions in the mix.

* The onions should acually be the first thing onto the griddle. There's a lot of latitude about how these are to be cut, but one thing is essential. Whether in whole or in part, there must be fines - that is there must be at least some onions that are small enough to take on a deeply cooked, carmelized color and flavor and a properly softened consistency. This is essential. In the creative realm certainly one could pursue substitutions - but classically, it's onions.

* Additional vegetables are welcome - especially peppers. These don't have to be pre-cooked, although if you have left-overs - hey, it's hash. I like them best if they're not overcooked in the final product. Best if they're well carmelized around the edges though.

Salt, pepper, paprika - and optionally herbs such as parsley, thyme or others are included

* Can't stress the paprika strongly enough here - it will both accelerate and materially contribute to quality results.

You need proper equipment. A griddle or heavy cast iron pan is best. NO NON-STICK!

* We're shooting for hash-browns. That means you need a cooking vessel that's good at browning things.
* And actually, for those of you who don't already know this, a well-seasoned cast iron pan is a great non-stick a surface.


Now if you adhere to those principles, you're in for some fine hash-browns. You can either go on to final prep (as discussed below) and serve, or reserve your hash-browns for later use. For example, it's great if you can mix the meat in and hold in refrigeration overnight for use in the morning. The flavors will only develop further if given such resting time.

Now about the meat - Couldn't be simpler. Recalling that we're using up leftovers here, the meat is already cooked. All we're really trying to do at this point is to chop it up, heat it through and incorporate the meat with the potatoes and blend the flavors.

Do not grind the meat. Chop it by hand.

* As with the potatoes, a broad variation in texture assuring preservation of discernable meat-structure is what you're shooting for. The precise treatment appropriate to a given piece of meat will depend upon its texture, degree of doneness, intensity of spice, and so on. You'll have to feel your way here. All I can tell you is that you should be able to tell what you're eating.
* If you make the right choices here, you will express the best this meat has to offer. If you're fortunate enough to have a really good piece of corned-beef, roast beef, or pastrami to work with, this hash can be among the world's great pleasures. I promise I'll get back to the topic of really good corned beef and other deli meats in subsequent posts.

Once you've prepared the meat for incorporation, fold it into the potato & onion mixture on the grill.

* Add oil or butter if necessary, heat, press into a patty and crisp as desired. I make the patty thick enough to go really crisp but retain softer textures in the interior.

Food like this will not be found in most breakfast joints. The ingredients and time involved are prohibitively expensive for the average greasy spoon. Mostly, you'll have to make it yourself. No better fate for your left-over roast-beef and baked potatoes.