After the discovery that Sara Lee was closing down Wilno Kosher Sausage Co., the makers of Wilno kosher salami, I complained on this blog about the fact that I'd been unable to find two things up here in Washington: Wilno salami and good pastrami.

I decided to do something about the second part (since Wilno's basically a moot point now) and ended up stumbling on a review for Barney's Pastrami in Everett, WA. The review practically glowed and Googling for more led me to a number of "best pastrami" raves. I decided to try it.

Barney's is a hole in the wall shop in a 1960s era building barely big enough to call itself a strip mall. The interior feels as old and banged up as the outside, and the TV was running Fox News. One of the few negative reviews I read said the place was dirty. I wouldn't agree with that. But an old, shabby, worn place with fogged up windows and one too few light bulbs isn't going to look bright, shiny, and clean now, is it?

Before we go on, let me clarify something for the uninitiated. In the world of pastrami sandwiches, there are two main types. There's the deli-style pastrami on rye, and the stand-style pastrami on a roll. These are two very different beasts and each has its fans.

The deli-style pastrami on rye, when done like the greats of the industry do it, takes a cool hunk of pastrami and slices it to order, then quick steams it to warmness, and serves it on a crusty rye bread. This pastrami tends to be a bit more crumbly and tender. Even the fat is softer and more tender when the sandwich is warm out of the kitchen.

The stand-style pastrami on a roll is pre-sliced and is kept warm by sitting partially submerged in water in a covered steamer tray. It's usually served on a hoagie roll with mustard, pickles, and cheese. The cooking style tends to make it a bit more chewy than deli pastrami.

Now that we have that out of the way, Barney's is a stand-style sandwich and not one of the better ones I've had. Perhaps they were getting to the end of a tray that had been out all morning, but the pastrami was too chewy and in my first bite all I could taste was the salt. Pastrami is supposed to be salty. It's basically a corned beef that was smoked instead of boiled. But there's a line between good salty and bad salty, and when the pastrami's been in the tray too long, it can cross it.

It was hard to distinguish a flavor beneath the salt, but what flavor I caught was merely okay in my opinion. I'd have liked the pastrami more if the flavor was less salty, but that still would have just allowed the sandwich to claw its way up into the middle range of pastrami sandwiches.

By the way, if you want to see how pastrami is made, make sure to Tivo the cold cuts episode of History Channel's "Modern Marvels" next Tuesday. They'll show how the Carnegie Deli does pastrami from start to finish.

The roll at Barney's was decent, the mustard blend good, and the swiss cheese passable. But when you go for a pastrami sandwich, you're there for the meat. Everything else is window dressing. And here, the meat failed to deliver. I'll admit that I've always favored deli-style over stand-style, but I've had good stand-style and this wasn't it.

I went a little after 11 a.m., so there is the possibility that you'll get a better sandwich during the lunch rush when they're cranking through trays and the meat has less time to sit and stew. On the other hand, some places will periodically taste the tray and start serving from a new one if the pastrami doesn't pass muster any more. Some won't start a new tray until the old one is gone, period. Can't say which Barney's is, but I have my suspicions.

Still, even being that salty and rubbery, was it worse than 5 ounces of cold pastrami-flavored top round from the supermarket deli counter, served on mass-produced rye bread with a wimpy soft crust? No. Fake pastrami on lowest-common-denominator rye from a supermarket is the dick joke* of sandwiches. But merely being better than a dick joke is nothing for anyone, including Barney's, to be proud of.

* Among many comedians, the term "dick joke" refers to a dirty joke that takes no talent to write or tell and relies on shock value more than real humor to get a laugh.

This entry was posted on Thursday, December 11th, 2008 at 3:46 pm and is filed under Cooking & Recipes, Just Personal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.