Two things. First, we had sandwich #5 at Zingerman’s and we didn’t like it that much. Shocking, right? This one is called Rodger’s Big Picnic. Here’s the description: oven-roasted asparagus, grilled portabella mushrooms, cheddar & Dijon mustard on grilled farm bread. Erik thought that it would taste better with a slice of ham or something like that, and not just because he’s a meat eater. I though that the cheddar and mustard didn’t really go with the vegetables. We both agreed that to make it better and keep it vegetarian, the thing to do would be to replace the cheddar with some goat cheese and lose the mustard altogether. To be fair, there was nothing wrong with any of the individual parts. I really did like the mushrooms and loved the asparagus, especially the little tips that stuck out of the edge of the bread.

We did find the place upstairs at Zingerman’s Next Door (the café part of the operation) that has a lot of the sandwiches described and annotated, like this one. They also have the retired ones. Now I can stop waiting for that list.

The second item on the agenda today is a little bit of whining. We haven’t been able to move into our new house because the people renting it have decided they don’t want to leave yet. Lawyers and judges are getting involved. We’ve had to leave the lovely apartment near Zingerman’s that we stayed in all summer because Jeremy is back from his archeological dig in Bolivia and he needed it back (thanks again for everything Jeremy!). For now we are staying in a temporary place. It’s in an apartment complex that was built in the 70s. The walls are paper thin, the carpet has definitely seen better days and the kitchen, people, is hideous. I had to spend two hours cleaning before I could even consider putting any of my stuff in there. The first time I turned on a burner on the stove, the flames licked half way up my enamelware pot. I’m afraid to try the oven. Plus, there’s no table or chairs. That’s right, we are reduced to eating at the coffee table for the next who knows how long. I feel like I’m living someone else’s life.

Not much cooking has been going on over here, let me tell you. I had a couple of fried eggs and some sliced tomato for lunch yesterday. We’ve been eating a lot of quesadillas. Last night, I cooked what I would consider the first real meal I’ve made here; chana masala and rice with peas, but I didn’t make all of the other accoutrements that we usually have with Indian food. No naan, no chutney, no side dish of muglai saag. Erik missed the raita the most. Note to self: do not make anything remotely resembling Indian food ever again unless there is yogurt on hand or the boy will be very unhappy.

We went to the one brother’s house a couple of times, and then to the other brother’s house. I called my sister-in-law Sara today and said, "Um, if you guys aren’t busy tonight, can I come over and cook dinner at your house?" I’m really happy she didn’t say no, because I have these rancho gordo santa maria pinquito beans that I’m really wanting to cook with some pork neck bones and sofrito.

One more thing, we don’t have internet here, in spite of waiting around all day today for the Comcast people, so the posts might get a little few and far between in the next couple of weeks. I’ll try not to let too many days go by. I do have a few recipes to share and I will be thinkin’ about you all.

Here’s one more for the sandwich files. Erik told me I have to write about it before we can go on to the next one. I’m keeping this short because I’m hungry and the refrigerator is not giving me any good ideas. Zingerman’s corned beef, lettuce, tomato & housemade Russian dressing on rye bread. It was so good, we almost ordered another one. There’s really not much more to say about it. Except for I have no idea where the name comes from, I see no connection to the canned stew or the author.

We went again to Zingerman’s to share a sandwich. We wanted to have the next one on the list, the #3, but it’s one of the retired sandwiches, it’s not up on the sandwich board. A person can still order them, though. I asked the order taker what was on it. She didn’t know, but went back to the sandwich making line to inquire and came back with this: the #3 is called Grandma Belle’s Best, it’s made with liverwurst, beef brisket and thinly sliced red onion on rye bread. Sounds great, I said, we’ll have one to share.

Then I turned to Erik who was looking nervous. Liverwurst again? He was not going to go for it, “I wanted a really good lunch today,” he grumbled. The line was long, we were really hungry and I had to think fast in order to save this one. I ordered him a hot dog. He was still not so happy. Until we got the food. He ate his all-beef natural casing 1/4 lb. hot dog with grilled onions, melted provolone & yellow mustard before I had finished even half of my sandwich. He then proceeded to ask for a bite from the other half and ended up eating the whole half (does that make sense?).

A couple of weeks ago, I asked for a list of the retired sandwiches and was promised an e-mail message, but I haven’t received it yet. Walking in and ordering without knowing beforehand what it would be turned out to be such an adventure, I think I’ll just keep going right down the list. I just hope Erik doesn’t jump ship before we get to the end.

There is no sandwich #3 on the Zingerman’s sandwich menu. In fact, if you have a look at the menu the numbers don’t go in order and many of them are missing. Instead of a linear numbering, the sandwiches are listed in categories: corned beef, chicken, turkey, pork, fish, beef, pastrami, vegetarian, salads, etc. Most of the sandwiches have numbers, but some of them do not. I remember the days when the sandwiches were in a numbered list, each number in order representing a sandwich, but obviously things change.

We went there again yesterday for lunch. We timed it wrong, so we had to wait in line. This did not turn out to be such a bad thing, because a nice young woman had a huge tray of samples she was handing out. I especially liked the potato salad with gouda and sausage and the pasta with pesto, sun dried tomatoes and chicken. When we got to the front of the line, I decided to ask about their odd menu organization. We were told that some of the sandwiches had been retired and some new ones had been introduced. The order taker also told us that we could order any of the retired sandwiches, they could still make them. I asked what was in the #3. She didn’t know. Is there a list? I asked. No, she said, there isn’t any real official list. She went in the back and asked someone else and came back to tell me that if I gave them my e-mail address, they’d send me a list. Okay, I said.

So what to do about lunch? Order a sandwich blindly without knowing what would be in it? We would do that in the interest of enlightening our readers, but instead we went with the #00: D-$’s Cuban Conundrum. Mostly because you can’t go lower than #00 on the menu and because I wanted to know how to pronounce it. Also, we’d been dreaming about the pork and we haven’t been cooking a lot of it lately.

You pronounce the D-$’s like this: Dee Money’s. Here’s what’s on it: Niman Ranch roast pork, Arkansas peppered ham, Switzerland Swiss cheese, old-fashioned dill pickles, mayo & hot mustard on a grilled paesano roll. This is a first-rate version of a traditional Cuban sandwich. The roast pork had the tang of a citrus marinade with a little smoky spice, the ham was very thinly sliced, not smoky and not sweet, just really good ham, I didn’t taste any pepper. The pickles were also very thinly sliced and the mayonnaise and mustard were mixed together before being slathered on. The sandwich was grilled, but not dripping with butter. It was so good, we almost ordered another one. It was an excellent way to continue our celebration of the year of the pig.

The order taker also told us that D-$ still works there and in fact he was in the back making sandwiches. We didn’t get a chance to meet him. If I had, I would have asked why does the sandwich named after him have Double 0 status?

What. The number 2 on the Zingerman’s sandwich menu is a Reuben sandwich. No self-respecting deli would be without one on their menu and this one is part of what makes Zingerman’s fame. Did you know that the Reuben sandwich recipe probably originated in Omaha, Nebraska? It shouldn’t be surprising that it comes from the Midwest; cheese with corned beef is certainly not kosher. Just like last week, we stood in line today for about 20 minutes, gave our order to a very friendly person, took our ticket to the cashier, paid our bill, went next store with our cups to fill them with soda and found a place to sit. This is the only place in Michigan where I haven’t heard it called pop. At Zingerman’s, when you ask for a coke or a root beer or whatever, they call it a fountain soda. That’s what they write on the order. My brothers call it pop and so does most everyone else in the Midwest. Call it soda and you risk sounding like a snob. Coming back home has been a bit of a shock. For the last ten years, we’ve been in New York feeling like we were living among movie extras and now here we are feeling like we’re in some sort of Cohn brothers movie, except no one is getting killed off and the accent isn’t quite so Minnesota ya’ know.

When the woman serving came out of the deli and called out my name, I waved her down, she gave me a wink and set the sandwiches down. “Do you need anything else?” she asked. “No thanks,” we answered. “Okay, let me know if you do. Enjoy your lunch.” A big helping of Midwestern nice comes with the Zingerman’s sandwich, and I kind of like it. It’s not smarmy, they don’t tell you their name. It comes off as sincere, especially at Zingerman’s. The second person imperative of the verb “to enjoy” is almost always followed by a direct object.

The Zingerman’s Reuben has the traditional ingredients. The corned beef, the swiss cheese, the sauerkraut, the Russian dressing and the grilled rye bread. Just like the Who’s Greenberg Anyway from last week, what makes this a superlative sandwich is the fact that they do it just right. The corned beef had absolutely no traces of fat or gristle. It was piled high, but none of it slipped out as I ate. There wasn’t too much cheese and it was melted without being greasy. The grilled bread wasn’t too greasy either. And once again, I would have liked a little more sauce, and maybe a little more sauerkraut, but that’s my own idiosyncrasy. The new pickle was the bomb. Very garlicky and crunchy, not too salty.

If you’d like to have one of these babies and you don’t live near here, you have two choices. You can mail order a Reuben kit directly from the Zingerman’s catalogue. This would make a nice Father’s Day gift, by the way. Or you can go here for the recipe and follow the instructions using ingredients you find yourself from your local deli. I guess a third choice would be to act like those crazy foodies described in this week’s New York times article and make your own corned beef, rye bread, sauerkraut and Russian dressing and then put the sandwich together yourself. Any way you do it, I hope you enjoy your sandwich.

Chances are you’ve heard of Zingerman’s delicatessen, located in Ann Arbor, Michigan. I grew up nearby and then went to graduate school at the University of Michigan. I’ve been a devotee of Zingerman’s for the whole 25 years that they’ve been open. My brother Paul even worked at Zingerman’s Bakehouse, making their famous breads for several years. It was a great thing during my poor graduate school years when he would bring me bags and bags of the bread and other baked goods that hadn’t turned out good enough or pretty enough to sell. They were still pretty good, believe me. He’s moved on to other work and I’m sure he doesn’t miss the strange schedule of being a baker, but we sure miss the perks.

In the past ten years, Erik and I have only spent one whole summer at home. We are used to packing up and moving ourselves to places near and far, always near a major research library. The Newberry library in Chicago, the University of Virginia library in Charlottesville, the Biblioth?que Nationale in Paris and the Biblioteca Nacional in Madrid, I’ve had cards at all of these and more. This summer is the start of a year-long sabbatical for me. Contrary to popular opinion, this is not a time when professors are not working. I’ll be working full time on a writing project (not related to food). We’ll be in Ann Arbor for the year and I’ll be spending most of my time at the library. We’ve started off by getting the kind of cheap summer sublet available in university towns. We’re in the two-bedroom apartment of a History professor in a large old brick building within walking distance of the campus. It’s also just a few hundred yards away from Zingerman’s. I can see the deli from the dining room and kitchen windows of our temporary digs. If this makes you jealous, you can order things from their website.

The New York Times recent article about the company founded by Paul Saginaw and Ari Weinswieg discussed why their farsighted business strategy has been so successful. Two things caught my attention in that article. The first was the quote from Michael Ruhlman:

The second was the low profit margin. It’s an Ann Arbor pass-time to complain about the high prices at Zingerman’s. Who knew that the profit margin for the deli was only 3.5 percent? I guess once they pay good money to small producers and give insurance to all of their far-too-happy-doing-food-service-work employees, there’s not a lot left.

Yesterday, we inaugurated our move by going to Zingerman’s for lunch and ordering sandwich #1 on the menu; it’s called Who’s Greenberg Anyway? I have decided on a strategy for eating sandwiches at Zingerman’s this year. We asked for the large size and it cost $11.99. We asked to have it split and they gave it to us in two separate baskets; the extra pickle was free. By splitting it I didn’t feel like we had paid too much for lunch and we also didn’t eat too much. Here’s how they describe it: corned beef with chopped liver, leaf lettuce & our own Russian dressing on double-baked, hand-sliced Jewish rye bread from Zingerman’s Bakehouse. My overall impression of why this version of these ingredients is so great includes several observations. The chopped liver was smooth with hints spice and a little onion crunch. The bread was cut thick and the ingredients generously piled high, but I was still able to get my mouth around it to take a bite. The corned beef deserves it’s reputation for being the finest. The best thing about the whole lunch, including the pickle (we asked for new pickles, you can also get older, longer marinated ones) was that it wasn’t too salty and because of this, the flavors of the ingredients were able to come through. The only criticism I have is that I would have loved to have more dressing, but that’s because I’m a sauce junky. Besides, the perky people delivering the sandwiches to the tables would for sure have provided me with some if I had asked.

So, who is Greenberg anyway? The story goes that when Ari and Paul wanted to open a deli, they first came up with the name Greenberg’s. After a while, they decided against that name and went for Zingerman’s, which sounded Jewish, but is completely made up. And they named their first sandwich after the question that had popped up when they were first organizing the company that did not come to be called Greenberg’s. I’ll be eating sandwiches here this year with other wacky names and I’ll be sure to update you. Let me know if you’ll be in Ann Arbor. Maybe we could share a sandwich.