Bring me your bialys, your chocolate babkas, your lox, capers, and schmears yearning to be free! It's a cliche, perhaps, to kvetch about the Bay Area's lack of decent Jewish deli food, when we can find just about everything else here from Burmese tea salad to Himalayan momos. But try telling that to a nostalgic deli-lover. An empanada is not a knish; a wonton is not a kreplach; a morning bun, however glorious, is not a slice of babka.

Yes, there are pockets here and there: Saul's in Berkeley, of course, and Miller's East Coast Deli on Polk Street in SF, a few halfway-decent bagel shops, the Russian grocery stores and bakeries on Clement Street that stock sour pickles, rye bread, farmer cheese and stuffed cabbage. But where to bask in the kibbitzing atmosphere of Manhattan's Barney Greengrass on a Saturday morning, where platters of salami-and-eggs or whitefish salad are smacked down on Formica tables? Where can we inhale a perfume like the heady aroma inside Russ and Daughters on a Friday afternoon, equal parts smoked fish and buttery-cinnamony rugalach, with a hint of onion bagel?

But the Bay Area is a land more attuned to kale and lardo than chicken liver and schmaltz. Then again, if every other ethnic cuisine, no matter how obscure, can find its niche, why not this one? So far, the success of Wise Sons Deli, Evan Bloom's and Leo Beckerman's 10-week-old pop-up restaurant, bodes well for saving the deli. Started as a popular offering at Off the Grid, Beckerman and Bloom are now setting up shop at Jackie's Cafe on every Saturday morning from 9am to 2pm, turning the marble-tabled Valencia Street spot into their own version of Langer's.

The menu is short, a mixture of specials (mushroom-and-barley soup, corned-beef knishes) and staples (schmaltz on rye, housemade corned beef and pastrami sandwiches). No egg creams or Cel-Ray tonic, just Bolyan's sodas, De La Paz coffee and Mexican Cokes. Neither Wise Son has a restaurant background (Bloom has a degree in architecture; Beckerman worked in public health) but they're learning fast. Beckerman takes the orders while Bloom and his small crew slices pastrami and assembles sandwiches in a plugged-in, makeshift semi-kitchen where a bucket of potato salad jostles against a bin of bialys near a couple of Reubens toasting on a jerry-rigged griddle.

It's not an ideal set-up (says Bloom dryly, "I'd like to be able to boil water") but somehow, everything comes out delicious: thick-cut, lavishly fatty corned beef and pastrami sandwiches on springy, caraway-flecked sour rye bread, buttressed with heaps of fresh and crunchy coleslaw and sour pickles; a yeasty-chewy toasted bialy slathered with caper cream cheese and red onions, piled lavishly with Acme smoked salmon from the Polish neighborhood of Greenpoint in Brooklyn; plates of sunny yellow noodle kugel and hunks of babka densely ribboned with chocolate and caramel. They're working hard to rehabilitate schmaltz (chicken fat); after all, why should lardo and duck fat get all the foodie love? Already, regulars are asking to have their Reubens griddled in schmaltz. "We're like In-N-Out! It's our animal style," they laugh.

All the prep work--baking the breads, brining and smoking the meats, making the kugels, and more--is done in the community kitchens at La Cocina. Working there, they share the kitchens with an international mix of small-scale entrepreneurs, many of them women from Central and South America. It makes them think of all kinds of Mission-ready mash-ups--why not a corned beef pupusa? Or a dulce de leche hamantashen? A kale knish? How about a meatless Reuben stuffed with smoked shiitake mushrooms? (These last two have already been adopted on the menu, with great success.)

"I'd say the majority of our clientele isn't Jewish," says Bloom, and doing a quick one-over of the room on a recent Saturday morning, I'd agree with him; the mix is a resolutely urban one, united in a love for corned beef. Beckerman and Bloom have plans to get bigger and better. "We'd like to be open more than just on Shabbas," jokes Beckerman, although they're certainly positioned to scoop up the after-services crowd from nearby Congregation Sha'ar Zahav. They've been pounding the pavement looking for a permanent location in the Mission for the past six months, and will be hosting a Passover Seder dinner at Coffee Bar on Tuesday, April 19th. They've also got a full Passover catering menu in place for April 18th and 19th, the first two nights of Passover. Let all who are hungry, come and eat brisket.

Wise Sons Deli, 105 Valencia at McCoppin Sts, SF. Saturday, 9am-2pm. Cash only. Phone: 415 787-DELI.
Twitter: @WiseSonsDeli

It's the weekend. You rolled out of bed craving something good. It's been a long week, you've been working hard, and you deserve some carbs that have been slathered in butter and griddled. And bacon. Definitely some bacon. The answer is, obviously, brunch.

Orson has been my go-to weekend indulgence ever since they started their brunch service months ago. This industrial-chic space is well known for its nighttime vibe, but in the light of day, the modern, artsy décor translates well. With one of the most well-composed brunch offerings I've seen in awhile, it won't be a neighborhood secret for long.

True to form, executive chef Elizabeth Falkner has put together a stellar menu that features comforting classics, amped up with gourmet ingredients, nuanced flavors, and out-of-the-box combinations.

Blueberry and Thyme Monte Cristo

Cue: Blueberry and Thyme Monte Cristo with House-made Breakfast Sausage. Love at first sight. This sandwich makes all other sandwiches pale in comparison. It will make you go weak in the knees and will haunt your dreams for days months after.

It's savory, it's sweet, it has melty cheese, and powdered sugar. What else could you ask for? Nothing. But Orson gives it to you anyway, like flowers, just because. The entire dish is like a big game of call-and-answer. The blueberry compote calls, and the French toast answers. The cave-aged Gruyere calls, and the Canadian bacon answers. A touch of thyme whispers aromatic notes to the house-made breakfast sausage, and staccato slices of pickled red onion keep it fresh amongst all that richness.

To my disbelief and heartbreak, I recently returned to Orson and discovered that the Monte Cristo had been taken off the brunch menu. Nooooooooo!! Just when we had found each other! The menu changes frequently depending on seasonality and the market, and I saw that a handful of other items had also been cycled out:

Fried Chicken Sandwich with Pickled Red Onion and Spicy Sesame Aioli, on a Parmesan Bun

Eggs in Brioche with Duck & Pistachio Sausage, Fava Bean Pesto, and a Shower of Pecorino

Orson Burger with House-made Steak Sauce, Cobb Relish and Truffle Mayonnaise, on a Parmesan Bun

Despondent and stricken with grief, I considered drowning myself in $10 bottomless mimosas and making friends with The Mary's.

The 7 Sisters

I was consoled by the sight of ol' faithful, the Pastrami Sandwich.

House-cured Pastrami Sandwich

Rightfully lauded as one of the best sandwiches in the city by the likes of San Francisco Magazine, SF Weekly, and the Wall Street Journal, just to name a few, Orson's House-cured Pastrami Sandwich with Cave-aged Gruyere and Russian dressing, on Sourdough Rye is all that it's cracked up to be. Katz's has nothin' on this bad boy (sorry NY, it's true).

The beef brisket is cured in-house with chili flakes and caraway, cold-smoked, then slowly steamed. The sourdough rye is baked in-house, and griddled to crispy, buttery decadence. And, needless to say, melted Gruyere and Russian dressing make any sandwich a winner in my book. Served with a side of Duck Fat French Fries (or salad), if you're going for the glory, be sure to ask for the Brown Butter Bernaise dipping sauce, the stuff is like crack.

This sandwich is no joke -- you can easily split it between two people. If you're going to risk finishing it by yourself, be responsible and plan not to do anything that requires heavy brain function or operation of motor vehicles directly afterwards. A food coma and belabored heart is pretty much guaranteed.

House-made Bacon with Cane Syrup

Speaking of heart trouble, the Extra Thick Cut House-made Bacon with Cane Syrup is one of the most obscene displays of porcine glory I've ever seen. It's more like bacon steak. It's ridiculous. Please share it. Half of one strip is usually enough to satisfy my bacon craving for the day.

French Toast with Peaches, Lavender, and Whipped Brown Sugar Butter

The good thing about a restaurant that changes up the menu regularly is that you get to enjoy the bounty of what's in season. The French Toast on the menu is a sure bet here, expect a big portion and seasonal flavors. This summery take featured juicy white peaches, lavender, and whipped brown sugar butter on top of thick slices of homemade milk bread that had been soaked in egg batter overnight. Solid.

Eggs Benedict

Not so solid were the Eggs Benedict. Our server warned us that the Eggs Benedict were like none we had ever encountered. She actually used the word, “gnarly,” which I should have taken as a warning. She said it was rich (the hollandaise is made with bacon fat), but I thought, well yeah, any eggs benedict is rich…I was up for the challenge and went for it.

The order came out, and our waitress was right. Like nothing I have ever seen. The sous vide poached eggs and boudin blanc were floating in a swamp of creamed corn and scallion hollandaise sauce. Pieces of basil biscuits were buried beneath. Rich was an understatement. This monster was rich on rich. The boudin blanc and the biscuits had good flavor, but they were drowned in cream. Maybe Eggs Benedict in a Bowl and I just weren't meant to be. Not like Monte Cristo.

All in all though, I think Orson has one of the best brunches in town, with staple dishes that you can't go wrong with. It's also a large space, which means you can sleep in and not face repercussions of an hour-long wait for a table.

Citizen Cake's French Macarons: Basil, Salted Caramel, Tangerine, Raspberry Rose

Added bonus, there's a Citizen Cake bake sale every Saturday and Sunday at the bar counter. They usually have an assortment of cookies, cupcakes, and brilliantly hued macarons.

Elizabeth Falkner

Interesting News: It looks like Chef Falkner will be teaching cooking classes in August at $65 a pop. Maybe she'll teach me how to make the Monte Cristo?

Orson
508 4th Street
(between Bryant St & Brannan St)
San Francisco, CA 94107
415-777-1508

If you're reading David Sax's recent book, Save the Deli, or follow his blog or moan, as many do, about the general state of the Jewish delicatessen, then you know that it's a pivotal time in this most hallowed bastion of comfort food.

For years, locavores and vegetarians, calorie-counting suburbanites and couscous-loving Sephardim and even heeb-hopping hipsters have been bringing their own favorite dishes to the Jewish table. You might not know this upon stepping into a deli, where piles of salty, fatty meat and schmaltz in the chopped liver and never-ending free pickles every day of the year define good eating. It's supposed to be a carefree zone where all the generations and sects can enjoy some chicken soup in relative peace.

Leave it to Karen Adelman and Peter Levitt in Berkeley to begin shaking up this world a bit. As the owners and hands-on managers of Saul's, these two widely read, passionately opinionated individuals are working hard to keep Jewish delis vibrant, relevant and delicious far into the 21st century. From adding Mediterranean mezzes to offering locally grown, locally made pickles, they're crafting a new sensibility for an old institution.

A multicultural, sustainable deli might seem like a quixotic pursuit, as many would argue that we should leave well enough alone. Any real and authentic Jewish deli doesn't need to concern itself with all this modern fancifying. But if you're a deli owner and you see your customers coming into your dining room less and less often -– how many pastrami sandwiches does one person eat these days? -- you realize that things need to change to keep going.

Of course, ideals do have a way of bumping up against reality. Let's take the last thing on the menu, that list of drinks at the end of the page. Such a minor thing, no?

Well, as it turns out, simple it most definitely is not.

For diners, drinks are usually just an afterthought. For green-minded business owners, though, the environmental costs of transporting flavored water, the impact of corn syrup and artificial sweeteners in our communities, and the waste of thousands upon thousands of empty cans and glass cannot be ignored. If you're somewhat concerned, you might just put out a recycling bin and offer a few cents off on coffee poured into insulated mugs. If you're a little more committed, you might try sourcing local sodas.

But if you're Karen and Peter, you have a much, much longer road to travel. You begin by studying the history of sodas and the science of bubbles. Along the way, you learn about the monopolistic technologies of multinational food corporations. You connect the dots between individual soda jerks, creative spirit and community values. You daydream down a short detour, one that takes you past designs for a working seltzer tap at each and every booth. You decide to compromise, backtracking to install a central seltzer dispenser. You call up a beer tap specialist to design a brand-new beverage system for you. You track down stronger fittings that can hold up to the pressure of C02. You convince colleagues that going back in time 60 years to revive obsolete tastes and technology will be a good thing for the business. You train special "seltzer baristas" to use the finicky machine with its nonstandard formulations. You develop recipe after recipe from scratch. (Cream Soda #8, you think, seems especially promising.) Then, years later, you launch your own house-made seltzers and, in a moment of unrestrained ambition, you decide to stop selling bottled, commercial sodas entirely. Even Dr. Brown's. Yes, even the Black Cherry and Cel-Ray.

And it's still not done. Now, you smile politely at your customers' dismay when they can no longer grab a can of soda with their take-out lunch and nod synpathetically at those most earnest of drinkers, the Diet Coke loyalists. You accept losing thousands of dollars in beverage sales. At the same time, you account for higher food costs because your drink bases, made from real fruit, are good for only four hours. You create and hope that your customers will enjoy the special syrups that taste slightly different day to day in flavors that come and go with the seasons.

You stand back and imagine a dining room full of people sipping sodas made by friends and neighbors from fresh fruit and whole spices.

You win some -- these sodas are phenomenal and you're proud and ecstatic, if a bit exhausted. They more than make up for past battles lost. There's still that ongoing campaign to source enough briskets from grass-fed cattle to feed your hungry customers. And let's not forget the recent Pickle Squirmish, when you tried charging for kosher dills -- in a deli! -- and took a fatal stab at explaining the seasonality of cucumbers.

Yes, one step at a time, one step at a time.

For now, you're happy to offer a taste of history: the sweet satisfaction and elusive effervescence of real seltzer flavored with homemade syrups.

Save the Deli: In Search of Perfect Pastrami, Crusty Rye and the Heart of the Jewish Delicatessen
By David Sax (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2009)
Sax's campaign to save the deli, as one mom-and-pop sandwich shop after another closes, brings him to the Bay Area this week. Stop by and meet him at Saul's this Saturday afternoon or at Book Passage on Monday at the Ferry Building. Listen to him read from his new book and then ask him for yourself: which city makes the best pastrami and why do we have to drink egg creams so fast and, yes, that most important question, what is the future of the Jewish delicatessen?

Saturday, October 24, 2009
4:00 pm
Saul's Restaurant and Deli
1475 Shattuck Ave Berkeley, CA 94709
(510) 848-3354
Map

Monday, October 26, 2009
6:00 pm
Book Passage
1 Ferry Building, #42
San Francisco, CA 94111
(415) 835-1020
Map