POLISH DELIS
I had a food craving a couple of days ago. For a reuben sandwich. It was one of those honest-to-god, itch-that-must-be-scratched, if I don’t eat this in the next hour I’m going to rip somebody’s head off kind of cravings. You know: the way some people feel about chocolate. Or heroin. I was jonesing for a decent Jewish deli.
I live in southwest London where decent Jewish delis are hard to come by. Admittedly, I moved to the neighbourhood to be close to the Thai supermarket, but still… I was in the middle of cursing myself for not having planned ahead when it hit me: Jewish-American deli food, as typified by Canter’s Deli in Los Angeles and New York’s lamented Reuben’s (where the aforementioned sandwich was allegedly invented), has its roots in eastern Europe.
So I went to the Polish supermarket. Not kosher, I know – my great-grandmother Rebecca Cohen would’ve been furious. But close enough. Reuben ingredients and a jar of excellent pickles acquired, craving satisfied, I was left with one question: why had I never been in the Polish deli before? From pickles of every description to cheese to smoked and cured meats to glorious rye breads, it’s a veritable treasure trove of ingredients. And the staff were so generous with their time and knowledge, not to mention letting me try things before I bought them. Clearly even food writers can get set in their ways, and I rather appreciate the irony that it took a craving for something familiar to jolt me out of my comfort zone.