As one to blow out others’ candles, I make the pilgrimage to the seedy part of Pioneer Square. It’s a bit dodgy, but a good sandwich deserves the work. Like Frodo with the ring, I had a ten dollar bill with the name Porchetta written all over it. I was told that the line up started at 1130AM. I showed up at 1120 and not a soul there. Were they shitting me? It’s like showing up 2 hours early for a birthday party and you end up helping the hosts 94 year-old nanny find the potty. I went for a walk around the block (literally 5 minutes) and when I got back, there are 25 people in line. Had they been hiding in the bushes waiting to see what I would do?

Like Sea Monkeys in a cup of warm water, they populated in front of my eyes. I got my arse in line and waited. I hate to wait. I think it’s overrated and it is a rare situation where the wait is worth it. I don’t do foreplay with my food. Let’s get it on and be done with it. The line moved like a well oiled machine. As I got closer I saw various lovely beasts aging in the cooler window. Think Amsterdam red-light district meets Piggily Wiggley down under.

I can see the counter staff mere feet away from me. I can hear them excitedly ask each other, “It that the guy from the Hanging Pig?” “Is that the guy that PETA hates?” They were excited and who can blame them. I’m there to ‘represent’.

I step up. They get giddy with delight. Who will he choose to put in his order? I look at the one with the glasses and in my best Tom Jones accent, I say, “I’d like the Porchetta please.” She smiles. It’s all about the tease. She says in her waspy smokey tone…”Sourdough or ciabatta?” She thinks she has me. She is challenging the co-founder of the Hanging Pig. “Whatever the chef thinks best”, I reply. Checkmate.  She prepares my sandwich by loading pound after pound of braised pork shoulder into the bun. In total, the meet braises for over 18 hours. Un F*CKING believable. I take my sandwich, give her a wink and a ten dollar bill and head out.

Just down the street there is an enclosed Japanese garden. I find a spot, unwrap my sandwich, and…cry…. I don’t know what came over me. You watch these babbling idiots stand on the Olympic podium and start to blubber. All their years of training. All the missed dates. All the time working on their craft…comes down to meet moments. I felt like I had been preparing for this sandwich my whole life. Baloney on wonder bread. Corned beef on onion loaf. Leftover meatloaf on french loaf. Even bacon explosion on fresh Kaiser buns. But now…this. I took it all in. I unwrapped the paper like a tentative virgin and looked into the eyes of excellence.

The sandwich is about 10″ long. I spent an hour working on it and couldn’t finish it. There has to be at least 1.5lbs of meat in there. Simply unbelievable. If you love pork and you love sandwiches (if you don’t, WTF are you doing here?) make a trip to Salumi. You will thank me. salumicuredmeats.com‎

Salumi: 309 3rd Ave S, Seattle, WA‎ – (206) 223-0817‎

He kindly offered me a sample.  We almost always carry it, but if you forget the name, just ask for the German smoked ham”.  As if I could ever forget that name…. delicate, paper-thin slices of pork; chewy goodness with a nice hint of smoke – and just the right amount of saltiness.  The schinkenspeck stole the lunch-time show.

From my understanding, the adopted neighbourhood of SE Vancouver that I currently call home  – much of what is today considered to be the city’s  “Little India” district – had previously been heavily populated  by mid 20th century immigrants from Eastern Europe.    The Fraser Delicatessen  at 6579 Fraser Street is a golden relic from that era.

What is remarkable to me, and obvious to anyone after a stroll down the deli counter,  is the high quality of their offerings.  I was told that they source there deli meats from seven different suppliers (the Hungarian salami comes  from Montreal; and the schinkenspeck is made by a sixth-generation family producing deli meats in Maple Ridge, BC).  Six generations! What fortune it must be to be born into something like that.

When all was said and done, it was a great lunch.  Here’s hoping to a bright  future for  the local neighbourhood deli!