Deli “Special” Sandwiches

I’m going to let Wikipedia speak to this one. There isn’t a separate page, but in the List of Sandwiches, our guidebook here at the Tribunal, it describes “Specials, Deli sandwiches” as being from the “Mid-Atlantic, United States” and has this to say about them:

“Specials” refer to cold deli sandwiches such the corned beef special, the roast beef special or the turkey special. These are made with the appropriate meat served together with coleslaw and thousand island dressing on Jewish Rye bread.

Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_sandwiches

Now, for instance, I often go to a deli called Bombacigno’s J&C Inn, and for the past few years, the specials board hasn’t changed–it always contains their Chicken Parm sandwich:

But it sounds like that is not the kind of special they’re talking about, nor even the kind of deli. “Deli” in the US can mean a lot of things, from a chain sandwich shop to a counter selling cold cuts and prepared salads in your local grocery store or bodega. Bombacigno’s, like Tribunal favorite J.P. Graziano, is an Italian deli. But with these “Specials,” we’re talking about the grandaddy of deli culture when it comes to America–the Jewish deli.

According to Ted Merwin’s Pastrami on Rye: An Overstuffed History of the Jewish Deli, Jewish deli culture, Kosher or non-, had become synonymous with New York City by the 1930s, frequented as much by workers in the outer boroughs as by Broadway stars in Manhattan. But after World War II, the Jewish population of New York began dispersing, to Chicago, to Los Angeles, to Miami Beach, to Boston and Baltimore.

Baltimore delicatessens… were known for their variations on traditional sandwiches. The “Broadway Special” at Sussman and Lev’s comprised tongue, spiced beef, corned beef, salami, sweet gherkins, and lettuce… Over at Ballow’s, Nathan Ballow served the ten-cent Easterwood Special, a half loaf of rye bread filled with bologna and mustard… Nates and Leon’s… was known for its combination sandwiches, of which it ultimately developed 120, including an especially popular one of corned beef, coleslaw, lettuce, and Russian dressing

Ted Merwin, Pastrami on Rye: An Overstuffed History of the Jewish Deli (New York, New York University Press, 2015) 99-100

Here in and around Chicago, I have not seen the word “Special” on the menus of too many Jewish-style delis. But I have been able to find similar sandwiches on their menus, or ask for them special.

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On our way back from a recent trip to Detroit, Mindy and I stopped at Zingerman’s Deli in Ann Arbor, Michigan, an extremely well-liked delicatessen doing what seems to be a staggering amount of business. Unfortunately due to time constraints (and a similarly staggering amount of food previously consumed on the trip) I was unable to unwrap and eat this sandwich until we had arrived home. I imagine it would have been spectacular onsite. Seeded rye, toasted on a flattop, with pastrami, Swiss, coleslaw, and Russian dressing. We could have been great together, sandwich. I’ll come back one day and give you another shot.

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Morry’s Deli, in Chicago’s Hyde Park neighborhood, has a number of “Sky High” double-decker sandwiches available, including this combination of corned beef, roast beef, Swiss cheese, coleslaw, and Morry’s special dressing (very much like a mayonnaisey 1000 Island) on black Bavarian rye bread. The corned beef and roast beef were both warm, the sandwich soft and untoasted, holding together well (though extra napkins will be your friend here). Though it seems like a massive stack of meats, the bread wrapped nicely around the sandwich edges and the tender meats parted easily between one’s teeth. Really, the sandwich went down alarmingly quickly and I found myself contemplating another.

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Bergstein’s NY Deli in south suburban Chicago Heights has its nearest analog to the east-coast “Special” type of sandwich in the Moskowich, containing corned beef, turkey, Muenster cheese, coleslaw, and 1000 Island dressing on toasted challah. Turkey and corned beef are a good combination–while I often find turkey by itself to make for a boring sandwich, the combination of cured meat and fowl here is reminiscent of the classic club sandwich, and the challah is a soft but sturdy base for this massive sandwich.

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When I stopped by J.B.’s Deli, a deli counter that appears to be consuming a corner drugstore from the inside out in the north side neighborhood of Andersonville, I spoke with the deli counterman about deli “Specials.” He appeared to be very knowledgeable about sandwiches and deli history in general, and while he disputed this sandwich’s origin as “Mid-Atlantic,” he was happy to make me an off-menu sandwich of pastrami, coleslaw, and 1000 Island dressing on toasted rye that may have been the best sandwich I ate in June. The perfectly fatty pastrami, clearly cut from a still-warm cured-and-smoked brisket, would have been at home anywhere, but could not have been presented more perfectly than between seeded rye with coleslaw and dressing. (OK, it could have been better with some horseradish mustard, but this was also very good)

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Schmaltz Deli in Naperville serves a sandwich called the “Old New Yorker” consisting of corned beef or pastrami (or both, as I had mine) with coleslaw and Russian dressing on rye. They also have great pickles, decent knishes, some outstanding house-made hot dogs, black and white cookies (if you’re into that kind of thing) and any number of other enticements making it worth a trip. The corned beef and pastrami here were a little leaner than I would have liked, but it was still a great sandwich.

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I ordered a sandwich of Romanian Kosher salami with Russian dressing on rye bread from Bebe’s Kosher Deli in Chicago’s French Market via GrubHub, and then immediately removed GrubHub from my phone–not due to any fault with the sandwich or the seller, but because I’d rather spend a half hour of my time and effort riding a divvy bike to and from a place like this, only a mile or less from my office, than pay the sizable GrubHub markup (and deserved tip for the driver) to have it magically appear at my office. I’ve gotten lazy of late, and I need to discipline myself to seek these things out rather than have them brought to me.

As for the sandwich, I’m not a big fan of marble rye, and the coleslaw (notably served as a side, not as a condiment) was a coarser shred and not really condiment material, but this salami made everything worthwhile. I’ve always been a little cool on beef-based sausages, believing that pork fat was essential to good sausage-making. This salami, from Romanian Kosher Sausage Company in Chicago, had a marvelous smooth texture and a nice spicy kick.

The thing is, though, that in each of these cases, I’m trying to shoehorn a local sandwich maker into putting something together to fit a time and place decades ago and hundreds of miles away. The more I read Ted Merwin’s book, and the more I visit these Jewish delis, the more I realize that if I really want a “Special” sandwich, I need to find the sandwiches created and named by each individual deli. The name might be a joke or a brag, a dumb pun, or the sandwich might be named after a favored customer or after the deli itself. But the sandwich should be uniquely named on the deli’s menu. Those are the sandwiches of which the deli is proud, and those are the sandwiches I should be eating.

So I returned to Bergstein’s NY Deli this morning–it is the closest of these to my home–and I ordered the eponymous BNY, a stack of corned beef, pastrami, and beef brisket on an onion roll.

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Now I’m not going to tell you that this sandwich was some kind of revelation to me. It was good, really very good–I like the onion roll here, the pungent bits of dark brown onion studding the top, and how the soft roll nicely compresses itself around the meats and contains them. The brisket is a good addition to corned beef and pastrami–more of the same, in a way, yes, still quite tender despite the thicker cut, but most of all it provides a respite from the saltiness of the cured meats it sits atop. The sandwich wanted a little something more, but like any good deli, BNY had a bottle of spicy brown mustard sitting on every table, and between that condiment and the pickle on the side, this tower of meat and bread had all it needed.

More than anything else, it told me that I was on the right track. When it comes to Jewish delis, from now on I’ll be ordering the sandwiches the deli thinks are special. Or whatever I happen to be in the mood for that day.