San Francisco Chronicle - (Sunday)
Bay Area delis shake up the sandwich game
Chefs riff on the genre with a bold new sensibility
There’s something universal and special about delis. It’s right in their name: The Latin root of the word delicatessen is delicatus, which means “giving pleasure, delightful, pleasing.”
But these quick sandwich shops have suffered a slow decline in the Bay Area, with many of the region’s historic Jewish delis closing over the years and even some new ones — most recently Augie’s Montreal Deli in Berkeley — shutting down. The reasons are manifold but involve the rising cost of beef, supply-chain issues and high labor costs.
At the same time, I’ve noticed a rejuvenation of the genre. A few new modern delis, like Loveski Deli in Napa and Delirama in Berkeley, are keeping the tradition of Jewish delis alive with steamy, black pepper-crusted pastrami on freshly baked rye. Others, like Asian American spot Ok’s Deli in Oakland, have veered down admirable new paths, expanding the scope of a deli beyond sliced turkey and roast beef.
These newcomers serve some of the most exciting sandwiches in the Bay Area, offering a mix of innovative riffs and well-executed standards while making nearly everything from scratch. In some ways, they’re actually expanding the appeal of the deli.
For me, the term deli refers to many things: the classic Jewish and Italian delis, a place to get a sandwich and market goods, as well as the average deli counter that offers sandbeurre wich customization. That’s always been one of the hallmarks of the genre: picking your meat, type of bread, cheese and more.
The irony is that this new roster of delis is doing away with the made-to-order sandwich. While chefs are making modifications to classics on their menus, they’re allowing few, if any, modifications from customers. Operators say it’s necessary due to staffing shortages and the desire to reduce food waste. A streamlined process with fewer sandwiches also means better quality control, which, ultimately, is good for customers.
At Troubadour Bread in Healdsburg, all the majestic sandwiches — like the indulgent, honey-spiked jambon (ham with butter) on a crunchy baguette ($17) or a classic Italian ($18) that uses local charcuterie and Calabrian chiles — are premade, so what you see is what you get. Trailblazing Ok’s Deli allows only small modifications to classic sandwiches, while specials like the superb, densely spiced Sichuan hot chicken sandwich ($16) arrive just as the chef intends. (Unless, of course, you’re allergic to an ingredient.)
Some of the new delis are more accommodating, to a degree. Co-owner Cash Caris of Delirama, a fierce pastrami sanctuary, is understanding of dietary restrictions, so he provides vegan options and plans to add gluten-free bread. But he still wants to keep things “curated and refined,” with a short menu. That means the only bread options are what the kitchen bakes daily — sorry, Dutch crunch fans. Instead, you’ll find thick slices of rye stuffed with layers of smoky pastrami that look like a half-shuffled deck of red cards.
Loveski Deli co-owner Christopher Kostow, chef of the three-Michelin-starred Restaurant at Meadowood, calls the new business a “Jewish” deli: an opportunity to apply the ethos of his fine dining restaurant to the genre, which often means introducing new flavors. Take Loveski’s Reuben ($20), which pairs a stack of pink, thinly sliced pastrami with white kimchi and gochujang instead of the standard corned beef, sauerkraut and Thousand Island dressing. The kimchi is a natural fit, while the fermented chile paste adds a spicy kick. Loveski’s take on matzo ball soup ($10) incorporates lemongrass, Thai herbs and chiles as a nod to co-owner Martina Kostow’s Thai heritage. The Jew-seppe ($18) is essentially a Jewish hoagie.
Since these sandwiches are interesting, cheffy packages, there’s an inherent trust in the sandwich artist. Some definitely resemble sandwiches you’ve had in the past; others stretch the definition of a deli sandwich.
Often, these new delis reflect their environments. Ok’s Deli, the most radical in its departure from tradition, mirrors Oakland’s diverse demographics. The Sichuan fried chicken sandwich pays homage to Oakland’s Chinese population, with juicy chicken thighs dusted with a piquant Sichuan peppercorn mix inside a sesa
me-studded bun. The Spam Mi ($15) is a loving tribute to the city’s phenomenal Vietnamese banh mi shops, with a nod to Hawaiian folks’ love of the canned meat.
One small but key sandwich side lives on: chips. At Troubadour, you can grab a bag of Zapp’s or Kettle Brand, while Loveski prefers Dirty chips for their crunch. Chef Albert Ok filled his deli with snacks that are almost entirely Asian, from the Thai-flavored Lay’s to the tempura chips. Meanwhile, Caris at Delirama prefers to fry his own potato chips fresh, serving them with every sandwich.
Along with the many new elements in this school of delis, there’s also a return to form, with (almost) everything made from scratch. Ok’s Deli bakes sesame buns and focaccia while Delirama pulls rye bread, bialys and bagels from its oven daily. Both shops make their own condiments.
For Troubadour, bread is the reason chef Sean McGaughey and spouse Melissa Yanc even started a sandwich shop. While looking for additional commissary space for their bakery, Quail & Condor, they found the Troubadour space and decided to bet on deli sandwiches.
Treating the casual deli sandwich with a chef ’s pedigree can be rewarding but also difficult. Ok was surprised to learn that the hours he puts in are identical to those at a traditional restaurant, which sometimes means 18-hour workdays. Caris of Delirama confessed that running a deli has been “harder than I could have ever imagined.”
When Troubadour opened, it operated as a traditional deli with customizable sandwiches. McGaughey, who comes from a fine-dining background, was astounded by the amount of work that model required. It only lasted four months because “it was the hardest job I’ve ever had,” he said.
But all that work comes to fruition in these stellar designer sandwiches. What you’re tasting isn’t just a better sandwich. You’re tasting deli sandwich evolution.