If God ran a Deli

Those who know me, know that I can eat and prefer to eat well.  Although I used to weigh 300 pounds and have radically renovated my diet, I still like a good feed.  There was one notable occasion at a Brazilian restaurant in Dallas, where two of us essentially lapsed into a food coma with the meat sweats but wouldn’t stop eating.  Or a place in Indianapolis that had ribs on special.  Five racks later we rolled out like two Michelin Men covered in sauce. 

Let us just say, I don’t do that anymore, but I could hold my own, thanks.  I do like good food. 

Smoked Meat is a delicacy of extraordinary proportion.  Take a beef brisket, rub a secret mix of peppercorns, salt, bay leaves and other spices into the brisket.  Let it sit for X number of days.  Brine the brisket in another secret recipe for a certain period of time, then steam it for four hours.  Slice against the grain, with a little fat, then a little lean.  Serve on a plate, with light rye bread, some mustard and a Coke.

What most people call "Smoked Meat" or "Corned Beef Brisket" is perfectly acceptable with one very specific caveat.  Schwartz’s in Montreal. 

Charcuterie Herbraique de Montreal Inc.  Chez Schwartz Chez, at 3895 Saint-Laurent Boulevard, Montreal.  There is only one.  World Famous, since 1928.  Or www.schwartzsdeli.com if you prefer to look for yourself.

If you have ever eaten there, then you have been to the Vatican of Smoked Meat.  If God ran a deli, then this is what He would make.  Instead of instructing his Son to do the Loaves and Fishes, he’d be yelling at him not to make it too lean.  

I’ve been to the Carnegie Deli in New York.  It is good smoked meat, but it isn’t near the quality of Schwartz’s.  I’ve been to Dunn’s,  Nope.  Ben’s?  Not even close and now closed.  Coorsh?  Drek.  Lester’s?  Double Drek. 

Schwartz’s is now, has always been and always will be, the ne plus ultra of Smoked Meat.  The list of Who’s Who who have eaten there starts at Jerry Lewis, the Rolling Stones, Nana Mouskouri, Hank Aaron and Tim Allen.  And me:  I’m in Who’s Not. 

The taste is that indefinable combination of spices, salt, peppercorns, smoke, steam, excellent beef and hot fat.  It is perfectly balanced to the palate.  A sandwich usually contains about a pound or so, hand sliced for each order.  There is the perfect mix of crumbly pink lean meat that flakes into strands if you look at it too long.  There is the exactly right mix of beef fat, source of all good flavor. 

A sandwich is probably around 11,000 calories and a half-pound of bad cholesterol.  You don’t have one every day, without having a cardiac surgeon on speed dial.  Schwartz’s is a treat to be savored once or twice a year. 

Today a very nice man, Mitch Garvis, brought me an eight pound whole, unsliced brisket from Schwartz’s.  I gladly gave him money in return, as Schwartz’s is not inexpensive, but extraordinary value for the money.  

After work I steamed a fist-sized hunk of it for three hours until the meat started to strand apart.  Then I sliced it as thin as I could and put it on a plate with some sliced light rye bread and French’s Mustard on the side.  I made a couple of sandwiches and ate them.

I am now sitting in front of my computer, with my pants belt undone, writing this and savoring the post-Schwartz’s Smoked Meat food stupor. 

It is one of life’s pleasures to have a smoked meat from Schwartz’s.  If you are ever in Montreal and hungry, go to Schwartz’s.  Stand in line for as long as it takes.  Get a Large Platter. Don’t order a lean, or you will be shunned.  Wear your Eatin’ Britches or Buffet Pants.  Eat.  Enjoy.