The city of New York is famous for a lot of things: stunning architecture, big business, and of course, delicious food. There are plenty of iconic dishes that have become synonymous with the City of Dreams – from sloppy pizza slices, to puffy bagels – but the king of them all (at least in my opinion) is the New York Deli Sandwich.
I’m sure you can picture it: an impossibly thick stack of pastrami, stuffed between chunky slices of bread, complete with Emmental cheese, mustard and pickled gherkins. A combination of fillings only rivalled by that of the Bánh Mì.
So was this what I found at Elma’s Cafe & Kitchen in Sheffield? Well, as the photo above suggests… not quite. Sure, all the elements were there, but the countless slices of pastrami I had hoped for were instead a measly three.
I view the New York deli sandwich as somewhat of a eating challenge you see, where the aim of the game is to practically unhinge your jaw, and take the biggest possible bite out of its teetering tower of fillings. Unfortunately here, it was an easy win.
The invention of the New York deli sandwich is usually credited to Sussman Volk, who began serving the dish – more commonly known as Pastrami on Rye – at his deli on Delancey Street, back in 1888. As is described in Henry Moscow’s The Book of New York Firsts, the Lithuanian butcher was given the recipe for pastrami from a fellow immigrant, as a form of repayment for letting him borrow Volk’s icebox.
And a recipe was needed mind you, as the meat has an extensive preparation process. The raw beef brisket is firstly brined, before being dried, heavily seasoned with black pepper and garlic, then smoked and steamed. Slightly long-winded if you ask me, but the wonderfully rich and flavourful meat it produces more than justifies the effort.
Volk seemed to think so too, and it wasn’t long before pastrami on rye was born. The sandwich began flying over the counter at Delancey Street, and word soon spread of this new deli-cious dish.
With great popularity of course, came the inevitable evolution of the pastrami on rye. Its titular bread is now often replaced with the likes of sourdough, the baguette, and many other variations – including the white ciabatta-like roll I had here. This isn’t exactly a problem, but I would have much preferred the earthy aroma of rye to accompany the pastrami instead.
Sadly my alternative was a little bland, and only acted to carry the fillings’ flavours, rather than add to them. Not deal-breaking though, when the flavours were as good as they were.
A fiery mustard mayo accompanied the pastrami’s smokiness, and when cooled by the creamy Emmental and crunchy leaves, its level of heat was perfect. Such a mild cheese can easily be overpowered when paired with American mustard, but the two here were in harmony, embellished further by the pickled gherkins’ cheek-sucking tang.
I just wish there was, well… more of it. Especially when the sandwich was priced at an eyebrow-raising £6.00. Perhaps they were attempting to emulate New York’s sky-high prices.
When all is said and done, it’s clear that Elma’s deli sandwich would have benefited from a few changes, portion size being one of them. It would be wrong to disparage the sandwich’s flavours though, as every expected element was present. Salty pastrami and gherkin, warming mustard and a slightly nutty Emmental really is a reliable combination – albeit one that leaves you craving more.
Tribudishional score: 4.5/10.
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