Zingerman's
by JS
I finally got a chance to try Zingerman’s, the nationally renowned deli here in Ann Arbor. Not having any clue of what to expect beyond the requisite need to go if you find yourself in Ann Arbor for any period of time longer than the time needed to navigate the lines (or so I’ve been told).
Upon entering, the gist of the place was immediately apparent. High quality gourmet deli-themed food immediately surrounds you in a kind of epicure wallpaper motif. You order any and all kinds of quality meats, breads, and spreads from any of a number of earnest collegiate types working over or in front of the seemingly overflowing counter displays (an illusion, but an effective one).
[Aside: Some Zingerman employees live in kind of a commune situation one house over from where I am spending my summer. They do a lot of very interesting cooking over there, including brewing beer and making what appear to be elaborate and flavorful soups in big pots on burners out on the front porch. These people do know their food.]
The sandwich menu, the star attraction, is complex and scholarly though paired with a kind of cartoonish typography and semiotics that I suppose is intended to make the experience less formal. The prices, you quickly notice, are anything if not formal. The Zingerman shtick, if there is a prevailing shtick, is that by bringing together the best of the premium food in one place, and marrying it to the deep themes and cultural mystique of Jewish delicatessen, they are able to justify a kind of premium on premium.
[Aside: As an example consider the prosciutto on sale for $40/lb was La Quercia, a good choice which only sells for $20/lb in more reasonable establishments, like Whole Foods headquarters back home. La Quercia itself is the kind of culinary fusion that brings the best thing about Iowa, its hogs, into intimate contact with the best thing about Italy, Parma, producing a beautiful international incident, the product of which is just a sliver away from being so good as to be instantly fatal.]
The problem with Zingerman’s, is that once you sit down to eat your frenetically chosen sandwich, you can’t help but notice that beyond the thin conceit of premium food and deep deli culture, the actual sandwich simply does not justify its price. My choice of a take on bagel and lox was constructed more as a parody than anything else. Even cut rate Jewish delis (now being run by decidedly non-Jewish proprietors) are loath to deviate from the sacred ratio of lox to cream cheese that makes that particular concept work. The laughably small amount of salmon, and the inappropriate choice for a bagel base, made the entire montage sort of delicately crumble. When the proportions were proper, which really only happened for like a total of three bites, the sandwich really worked, but the rest of the eating experience was a kind of frustrated herding of various components into properly sized bites. Things turned far more messy than I would have desired for this particular brand of $15 sandwich.
It sort of hard to fault a place for capitalizing on its particular and prescient concept. Today, with things like slow and organic food movements carving bigger slices out of our eating attention, Zingerman’s is an established and successful entity that’s been doing this for years longer than these ideas have been on most people’s radar. And it may be too early to get picky as people who can begin to move beyond the rigid confines of the super market middle aisles and fast food franchises of our perversely subsidized food culture, but why not save your pennies for the farmer’s market next door and spend an afternoon making something you like with people you love at home?
Comments
Next time try a corned beef or pastrami sandwich; expensive but hands down equal to the best I’ve had anywhere.
For a bagel with lox, buy a dozen bagels and a pound of cream cheese at zingermans deli and then head down the street to Tracklements for some of the best house-smoke fish in the world. $50 feeds eight!
I don’t doubt that individual sandwiches stand out. It seems like a wiser choice would be to prune the menu to only a few (20 or so) well curated and tasty sandwiches. Those more experienced in Zingerman lore could always order off menu.
Thanks for the Tracklements suggestion. I’ll check it out.
On reflection, my review was mixed because, well, my experience was mixed, and I probably won’t be going back any time soon. That said, I’d certainly recommend that first timers try Zingerman’s at least once. There’s a lot to like. If you’ve been before, then you can make up your own mind.