Something New - And Delicious!

Today's entry was penned by my lovely wife, Erin E. Barrett. (That's her with the pretty face and the gorgeous sandwich.) She is a brilliant writer and, I was sure, would do much better with today's subject than I could. Take it away, Erin!



Something New
by Erin Barrett

I love food. I know what I like, so I don’t need to try new things very often, and I’m comfortable with that. As a confirmed worrywart, there are certain places I do not enjoy going, and there are certain places in which I am afraid to dine. But this weekend marked an occasion in the Barrett house: I tried something new!

It has taken months of subtle suggesting, hopefully requesting and outright begging on my husband’s part to get me to venture to Los Angeles to try the famed Langer’s Delicatessen-Restaurant “world famous pastrami.” And at last, just yesterday, I agreed. Admittedly, I am ridiculous, and I despise most of LA with a fearful passion. The thought of heading into a gritty area without the aid of pepper spray causes me some concern, but the siren song of the pastrami sandwich was too great.

Jason assured me as we hopped into the car that the deli was located in a business district, because it caters to the professional crowd during the week. It might cater to the suit-and-tie characters in the area, but the stuff about location was a lie. The deli itself is located at the corner of 7th and Alvarado. The parking lot is about a block away, so after idling in the middle of a side street, waiting for a spot to open up, you get to walk through a lovely area of downtown, complete with suspect store fronts, graffiti-covered buildings, dark alleyways and illegal sidewalk sales, some sections of which smell faintly of urine. Delightful.

When we reached the restaurant, there was a line out the door—promising. We put our name in with the hostess who was sprinting around the sidewalk, and waited. It didn’t take long before we were seated in a small booth in the front section of the restaurant. The place was packed, and the corned beef and pastrami was flying out of the little kitchen, located behind a small counter, so you could see everything.

Our waiter—a nice gentleman in a black bow-tie—took our order. We both got pastrami sandwiches, JB the pastrami and coleslaw with Russian dressing, me the Langer’s Deli most popular sandwich, the #19, a pastrami on rye with Russian dressing, coleslaw and Swiss cheese. The only difference between the two sandwiches was about seventy-five cents.

The sandwiches arrived at our table no more than five minutes after placing our order, and we began to mow. While everyone else chatted contentedly with loved ones, enjoyed the ambiance that only a good deli can offer, and savored their meals, Jason and I sat in silence, greedily devouring the pastrami sandwiches like we had a time limit.

Now, I am not a food critic, nor am I a professional blogger on the topic of food, but I will do my best to describe the experience. I am not a huge fan of the cured meats (bacon excluded), but for this particular sandwich, I will make an exception. In the past, I have had pastrami that was too fatty, too dry, and just too much. But this was a special brand of pastrami, my friends. The meat itself was a gorgeous red wine color, with a dark, almost black crust on the outside. The chefs were generous, but there wasn’t too much meat, as so often is the case with pastrami sandwiches. On top of the hot pastrami rested the coleslaw (just juicy enough), the dressing, and the cheese. All of these ingredients were piled high, but well contained in the most perfect rye bread I have ever eaten. The crusts were perfectly crisp, but the center of the bread remained soft and pliable, so that when you picked up the sandwich, the bread seemed to form around the ingredients inside, creating a kind of bread cage for all the goodness within.

Ok, let’s get back to the meat. Each slice of pastrami was about one quarter inch thick, and could have easily been sliced from the slab with a butter knife. What fat was still attached to the trim cut of meat simply melted away when it touched the tongue, and the pastrami itself barely required chewing. And the flavor was amazing. Just salty enough, with a melody of flavors like no other pastrami I have ever had. The deli offered various sizes of pastrami platters, containing just the meat and a few pickles or something, and now I know why. It’s good enough to be eaten entirely on it’s own. It was unbelievably tender, cooked to absolute pastrami perfection, and it made me question what kind of witchcraft was going on in the kitchen to produce such scrumptious results from a slab of farm animal.

As soon as I took my first bite, conversation ceased. I’m sure many of you out there will agree that when there is awesome food involved, there is no room for anything but eating. Sorry dining companions, that’s the rule. And the sandwiches in this place seemed to have a calming effect on everyone inside. Each patron was smiling, enjoying themselves, and one lady in a booth nearby even smiled and laughed when Jason started taking pictures of me chowing down.

Friendly service, quaint surroundings, and a sandwich that countless times made me call out to a higher power, makes this place the home of my now favorite pastrami sandwich. The walk back to the car past shouting LA residents and that guy talking to himself on the corner even seemed more pleasant. Just a few miles away from the deli, we came upon the promised business district. It was shiny and well-kempt, and I even caught myself looking at condominium buildings and thinking how cool it would be to live there. Yes, the pastrami is that good.
Now, of course, my husband is walking around our house with a satisfied grin on his face, because he got me to a restaurant I didn’t want to go to, and it didn’t kill me, and I want to go back. All the time. Maybe one day he’ll get me to that little Indian restaurant down the street. But probably not. EB



The exterior of Langer's Delicatessen-Restaurant, on the corner of 7th and Alvarado Streets.



Behold, the Langer's #19. Almost too beautiful to eat. Almost.



The other half of Erin's #19 proved too much to bite off in one sitting. But it made the safe trip home in a doggy bag for my later consumption.




Erin giving me an "ok, put the camera away before you get mugged" look. The landmark Library Tower (aka US Bank building) can be seen looming in the distance.