Somehow, Shauna had found on the internet the fact that Calgary had its very own Jewish delicatessen - and apparently, according to the reviews, one that is every bit as authentic to Bubby's recipes as the most famous of any of them in New York City are. As an absolute devotee of Montreal Smoked Meat sandwiches - from which she has been deprived since her Celiac diagnosis, she allowed herself a few moments of mourning salivation over the glistening photographs on Gruman's Catering and Delicatessen website, and then resigned herself to making another sacrifice to keep her insides whole.
Maybe they do Gluten Free, though. Maybe we'll just call and ask. So we did. Because on their menu, tucked under a little asterisk under the "Sandwiches" heading, there's the small print - "gluten free bread available". With all due respect, though, that usually means "Here, Celiac. Have this little plate while the others in your party indulge in real food." But no - the charming Australian lady on the phone confirmed that everything on the menu except the regular bread and the potato salad could easily be made Gluten Free. "Even the meat?" Yes - the Montreal Smoked Meat is Gluten Free.
So Rae decided it was time to host her parents to Brunch this past Saturday. "How long are we willing to wait, if it's busy?" We decided 20 minutes would be the limit. Well, we walked right in. Yes, it was humming with activity, but there was still a booth left. What was immediately evident was how very hard every staff member was working - you have seldom seen such a dedicated, thoughtful, and professional group of people taking this service job so much to heart. Plate after plate of steaming sandwiches, chicken soup with matzoh balls as big as your fist, and crispy latkes with sour cream paraded past our table as we perused our menus. Our server was every bit a member of this crack team - fully knowledgeable about the travails of celiac disease, and providing the kind of reassurance that removed all doubt.
We ordered. Shauna had to have the smoked meat sandwich, with an appetizer of latkes. The confirmation that these, too, were gluten free provoked an involuntarily loud cheer and a touchdown signal from both Rae and Shauna.
Rae selected eggs benedict served ON her latkes:
And I needed a Reuben. Now, I can eat just about anything, but for some reason, caraway seeds are the bane of my existence. I struggled for a moment - to be well and truly authentic, this Reuben MUST have to come on Jewish rye bread, studded with caraway. Nope, can't do it. I ordered multigrain - I just really needed to enjoy this meal without any distractions. (Little did I know...)
I thought a sandwich wouldn't quite be enough - so I spied chopped liver on the menu. I have used the expression often, to underline how I feel about being made to feel inferior by being compared to this lowly dish. But what the heck - it seemed quintessentially "Jewish deli", so I ordered it. It came with caraway rye toast crisps - which I accepted. Let me be a bit authentic, anyway.
The kitchen manager showed up at our table to advise that not only had they taken out a clean cutting board and knife to cut the smoked meat, they'd also opened a brand new one from which to slice it. They clearly take their diner's culinary safety to heart. He also asked Shauna to tell him what she thought of the gluten free bread.
The latkes arrived. Rae and Shauna were in heaven. They were absolutely crispy golden on the outside, and creamy good inside, without the annoying onionness that Shauna has encountered too often. These were perfect.
My chopped liver came too. A big ice-cream scoop full, surrounded by the rye crisps, and garnished with a sprinkle of green onions.
I took what I thought was my introductory bite of this staple food.
I could not speak. My eyes welled up (like they are doing as I type). I was instantly flooded by the most powerful memory - this was my Oma's dish. She made it for me, and the last time I had it was over thirty years ago. I had no idea "chopped liver" was this - this massive connection to my childhood, this essence of my grandmother's kindness. They say taste and smell have the most power to trigger memory, and they're right. Shauna thought I was reacting to the caraway in the bread. But when I could finally talk, to our passing server, I told her what was going on in my head, and asked her to tell Peter, the owner - who was bussing tables, making coffee, and watching, watching the people fall in love with his mother's recipes. He came over, beaming. Yes, this is why he does what he does, in her memory.
Rae could not get enough of her eggs benedict. They were gone faster than either of our sandwiches were. Shauna's gluten-free bun could not long contain the impossibly-balanced pile of smoked meat slathered with mustard, letting her take one or two bites sandwich-style, then collapsing to knife and fork territory for the balance of brunch. Never mind - the taste was incredible.
And my Reuben was the kind of meal your grandmother expects you to finish before you go home - everything fitting together so perfectly, and practically - not too much sauerkraut, just enough fragrant melted swiss, and the signature ruddy beef center. Lots and lots and lots of it. No matter that it came on multigrain bread - that caused no-one any concerns, as it turned out.
But for me, the star was that pedestrian globe of goodness. I bought an extra 200 grams to go, and gave it to my 80-yr. old father that afternoon. It was his mom it brought to my mind, and I wanted to pass him some memory on toast.
Gruman's also has lox, and brisket, and kosher hot dogs, and chicken soup. I need to try them all. Repeatedly. They'll also cater any event. Hmmm - we have a wedding coming up.
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