I'm a foodie. I endured years of restaurant kitchen work in my youth, grabbed some skills, and liberated myself to cook for friends and family. I love to eat and I love to find sources for real ingredients. I''m also fascinated by the history and origins of what we eat. How many different cultures offer us their take on the noodle, or the dumpling... or the sausage?
Bask in the dark ages, when I was in music school in 1988, I got hired to perform in a cheesy rock and roll revue at Playland. I used to ride my bike along Commercial drive early in the morning to go to rehearsal. When I passed 2nd and Commercial I would get hit with this intoxicating smoky, salty, fatty smell. It was the Polish sausage shop. I'd ride past sadly, looking at it's locked doors.
Over the years I've been in there quite a few times. They make their own ham, smoke their own sausage, and offer a culinary and cultural skill and ability that is truly humbling. Walking in to the small storefront you are confronted with all manner of hanging meat and other Good Things. This morning I caved in while riding home from the gym (lo these 20 years later) and bought some garlic sausage to go with my scrambled eggs for brunch today. Fuck the diet... it's Saturday and the bran bar just ain't gonna cut it. It's the J, N & Z Deli in the 1700 block of Commercial. Go there and get some, because when these old school food artisans die, more and more no-one moves up to take their place. One sad day it'll probably be yet another Starbucks or Money Mart or other ubiquitous and depressing establishment. There are two more old-school sausage joints I can tell you about. But I'll save 'em for now.
I make sausage and back bacon, too, from time to time. It's a fattening, cholesterol-laden hobby, but the rewards are obvious, I'd say. If you are interested, I heartily recommend the book Charcuterie, by Michael Ruhlman. You can find it on Amazon.
1 comment:
Tim- This reminds me of being a farm boy and raising hogs. there was nothing better than REAL bacon because you could slice it as thick as you wanted, the sausages were unreal as well because our pigs were raised right and weren't really fatty, thusly you didn't end up with a bucket of grease with your meat.
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