What does Salt Lake City and Havana, Cuba have in common?
Here’s a hint: It has to do with a bar, that was always a mess, owned by a guy named Joe.
Confused?
Well, you should be hungry instead.
Feldman’s Deli (2005 E 2700 S) serves up traditional Sloppy Joes, albeit sans the cow tongue and trading ham for corned beef and pastrami. Ernest Hemingway came to enjoy the Havana version so much, a New Jersey mayor visiting Hemingway upon his return stateside, cajoled a friend into adding a version onto their menu back in the Garden State. Thus, the American version of the Sloppy Joe was born, remarkably remaining unchanged in the century since.
I grew up frequenting Italian delis in Queens, NYC, so I know a thing or two about authenticity of sandwiches. For example: Caputo’s gets a thumbs up and Subway gets a thumbs down when it comes to meatball subs and salami cold-cuts. But Jewish delis are uncharted territory for me. I brought along two friends (RD and JD), who grew up immersed in kosher tradition on both coasts and could smell an imitation gefilte fish a mile away, on a lunch mission to Feldman’s. What follows is an oral history of our experience, course by course and bite by bite, with my own observations thrown in for some extra dressing.
First look at the menu:
JD: Whoa! There are lots of menu options. I thought they only did Reubens and Sloppy Joes.
RD: And they boil their bagels. That’s the only way to make a proper bagel. Ooh and they get their mustard from NYC. I’m excited.
In a day where every other dining establishment focuses on sourcing everything locally, some things you just have to import. Feldman’s does have a variety of local beers – clearly they made the right choice in choosing which products to ship in.
The restaurant was busy, but less than a minute after grabbing a table a server to come to our table with full glasses of water and menus in hand. It took less than three more minutes for the first Old Testament reference to be made. I feel like one of the family. We, of course, opt for knishes for the table to start. We luckily claimed the last two knishes they had left, meaning everything is created fresh each day. These potato filled starters had a perfectly dark crust with sesame seeds covering them, served with the aforementioned mustard.
First knish bite:
RD: These are pretty damn good. It tastes like home. Maybe better. Don’t tell my grandmother I just said that. Or her maid, who probably made most of the knishes.
JD: Tastes authentic, but it looks better. I’m calling these a win.
We go ahead and order our sandwiches – a Sloppy Joe for me and my two cohorts opted for Reubens. All three of us chose the “Health Salad” for our side. The irony is akin to ordering a Diet Coke with a Big Mac. We proceed to guess how many calories this lunch might be. I’m preemptively deciding to skip dinner.
Decor:
Having been to Katz’s Deli in NYC, as well as the famous Carnegie Deli, Feldman’s looks strikingly different. I ask my companions to weigh in:
JD: I feel like I’m in Ikea, not a Jewish deli. The faux taxidermy is throwing me off.
RD: Yeah, but the crowd reminds me of my family. That table over there (pointing with a mouth full of knish) could be my grandma or my aunt.
First Sandwich Bite:
Sandwiches, piled high are delivered. My Sloppy Joe is stacked triple-decker high and dwarfs their corned beef Reubens (Pastrami is also an option for Reubens), which are obscenely large in their own right, but not nearly as saucy and don’t feature the double whammy of corned beef AND pastrami. Hey, why choose just one? I decide I am skipping breakfast tomorrow, in addition to dinner tonight, before my first gloriously messy bite.
RD: Somehow smiling and chewing at the same time, remarks she is more than excited to eat the rest!
JD: That Sloppy Joe is going to give you the “meat sweats”. He is glad he opted for the “slimmer” Reuben, as I mentioned the owners at Feldman’s have been known to point out guests who cannot finish their meal. Just like home!
Sloppy Joe’s, in my experience, resembled more of a school cafeteria Manwich than a proper sandwich. Meat surprise, in a brown gravy on yesterday’s hamburger buns was what I was expecting. This is clearly a different creation, however, with fresh meat, swiss cheese and a Russian style Thousand Island soaking the bread and permanently adhering it to the meat. I realize I cannot and will not put the sandwich down for fear of being unable to pick it back up intact. Sloppiness is the only thing my elementary school recollections of a lunch lady ladling sandwich components on my tray have in common with this Sloppy Joe.
Somehow, someway, we’re now discussing paleo and plant based diets. I don’t think anyone has touched their health salad. I have serious doubts I can finish the second half of my sandwich, but with the amount of dressing on the bread, it is not exactly portable for leftovers. I dive back in.
JD: I wish this place was closer to downtown and my office.
RD: No, you don’t. It’s too good – you’d go way too often.
Final Verdict:
I asked each of them, what I thought would be the deciding factor of a question: Would you take your family here?
JD: No. Only because they would hate everything and complain about something completely arbitrary, such as “the portions are too big.” He does this in a mocking accent.
RD: After they ate the food, they would be fine. And then would start comparing it to their favorite place back east and decide Feldman’s “came close.”
If you know anything about Jewish tradition, Feldman’s just got the highest compliment. And deservedly so.
Photo Credit: Anna Pocaro Photography
Knish Photo by Michael Feldman
Comments
comments
