Okay, so I got this real craving the other day. Not just for any sandwich, but for a proper corned beef special. The kind that makes you close your eyes for a second when you take the first bite. It got me thinking about what really goes into my version, the stuff that makes it, well, special.
It always starts with the meat, right? You can’t skimp here. I actually drove over to that little deli on Elm Street, the one where the guy knows how you like things sliced. I always ask for the corned beef shaved thin, but not too thin. You still want some bite, some texture. Watching him slice it, the smell filling the air… that’s part of the whole process for me. You don’t get that from a plastic package at the supermarket.
Then there’s the bread. It absolutely has to be rye. Seeded rye, preferably. I tried making one on sourdough once when I was out of rye… big mistake. Just didn’t taste right. Found a decent loaf at the bakery near the park. It needs that slightly sour, earthy flavor to stand up to everything else going on in there.
Getting the Layers Right
Now, the “special” part is where things get interesting. For me, it’s a combination deal. You need:
- Swiss cheese: Gotta be Swiss. That nutty flavor just works. Melting it slightly is key.
- Coleslaw: Not the super sweet, watery kind. Needs to be creamy but still have a bit of tang and crunch. This is crucial for the ‘special’.
- Russian dressing: Okay, some people argue for Thousand Island. And yeah, they’re similar. But authentic Russian has a bit more kick, less sweetness. I make my own sometimes, just mayo, chili sauce, horseradish, Worcestershire, onion powder… takes two minutes.
I remember my grandpa used to make these on Sundays. He was very particular about the layering. He’d lay down the rye, slather one side with dressing, pile on the warm corned beef, then the Swiss, let it melt a bit under the heat of the meat, then a generous scoop of coleslaw, more dressing on the other slice of rye, and carefully press it all together. He always cut it diagonally. Said it tasted better that way. Don’t know if that’s true, but I do it too. Force of habit, maybe.
Funny thing, my grandpa, he wasn’t even Russian! He picked up the recipe from a diner he liked back in the day. He worked on the railroad, traveled a lot, and he’d always try local specialties. He said this sandwich reminded him of a stop somewhere in New Jersey. He couldn’t remember the name of the place, just the taste of the sandwich. So he figured out how to make it himself. Every time I make one, I think about him telling those stories, smelling the corned beef cooking on his stove.
So yeah, getting the ingredients isn’t just about grabbing stuff off a shelf. It’s about finding the right stuff. The thin-sliced beef, the tangy slaw, the sharp rye, the creamy-spicy dressing. Each part plays its role. You put them all together, take that first bite… yeah. That’s the stuff. Nothing fancy, just good ingredients put together the way you like ’em. That’s my corned beef special.
