San Francisco's Ham & Cheese Deli
And the sorrowful, but alluring draw of nostalgia
I have a fond memory.
It’s 1989 and I’m 21. I’m sitting on the roof of a house on 7th Ave in Tacoma, Washington at the end of summer before my final year of college. With a grill full of seared meats, a case of Rainier beer and a bag of jalapeno chips, my buddies Steve, Dan and I sat there eating, sippin suds and talking that sunny day away. Uneventful though it was, it was a damn fine day. Yet I had zero sense at the time that, 34 years later, it would be a moment that I would often visit in my mind. And smile my sad, wry smile.
It seems our nation is going through a period of intense nostalgia these days. Some long for the way things were back in the 40s or 50s, apparently. Some yearn for a vague bygone era that probably never existed. For us Gen X guys, we might yearn be the days when we rolled out of bed, grabbed all the quarters we’d saved out of our desk drawer, dialed a friend on the telephonic device attached to the wall, and caught the bus to the arcade.
“Those were the days,” as the 1968 Mary Hopkin song goes, “Remember how we laughed away the hours thinking of all the great things we would do.”
Is she longing for simpler times in general? Or just for those specific times? Or maybe she missed who she was during that time. Young, optimistic, and all hopped up on hormones and starry notions of what life could be. Da da da dai da da da.
There’s a tenderness in this longing. But it carries a sharp, sweet tinge of regret - a resigned disappointment that things had to change. That time had to pass, as time must… and so quickly too. Arcades don’t really exist anymore. Those kinds of communal youth experiences are, for the most part, gone. We don’t know the name of our butcher anymore. Our days are no longer so gloriously free and easy. Things move relentlessly forward whether we want them to or not. And very often we have a subconscious “who moved my cheese” moment when they do.
So we develop this sad longing for the past and call it nostalgia- a word concocted from the combination of two Greek words: nóstos meaning "homecoming” and álgos meaning “sadness.” As if certain memories are actual places we can visit in our mind that make us feel comfortable, at home, but also sadly devoid of viscerality. Like a holograph of a holograph.
Some restaurants cater to this sad longing that we carry around. Because of course they do. Visit Denny’s, Johnny Rockets, Mel’s Diner, and Tommy’s Joint and kind of travel back to that simpler time. Kind of. Use your imagination.
SF Inner Richmond’s Ham & Cheese
It occurred to me that this is what Inner Richmond’s Ham & Cheese was trying to do with its vintage arcade games (they had Donkey Kong!), over-pixelated “Game Over” typeface, old-timey coke machine, 1970’s furniture, and Pac-Man ghosts painted on the walls. It even had one of those sit-down tabletop video games and an old mechanical pinball machine. I could tell this was run by a guy, and that this guy grew up when I grew up.
With 4.8 stars on Yelp and 4.9 on Google, Ham and Cheese (5501 California St) is a very popular SF joint in the Inner(?) Richmond known especially for its breakfast sandwich (open at 7:30 a.m. most days). One reviewer writes, “It’s loaded with lots of fluffy scrambled eggs, melted cheddar, thick cuts of ham and bacon, and the sourdough English muffin was toasted just right, crisp on the outside, and soft and airy inside... it was soo good.” That does sound pretty darn special.
I met my buddy Kevin there and we sat outside in the sun - which honestly got a little too hot. Yes, in the Richmond. I know…crazy, right? Global warming. We’re all gonna die.
Ham and grilled cheese was a sandwich my mom used to make for us kids now and then, and maybe that was the intent of naming it that. It’s a basic sandwich for a basic kid and has been for eons. So naturally it will harken us all back to our youth.
Basic though the store name is, Ham & Cheese’s sandwich names are genuinely fun. Shrooms over My Hammy. Praise Cheesus. I’ve written before about the importance of sandwich names and how they can influence the purchase decision as well as contribute to the experience of eating the food.
Our brains also “encode” named objects differently than unnamed objects, and that affects what we notice about them and how well we get to know them. In other words, the way we put information into our memory system is different if it’s about an object that has a name.
I ordered the Torta-lly Insane - a toasted hoagy with pulled pork carnitas, spicy salsa roja, black bean puree, avocado, pickled onions, crema, lettuce and tomato. It was a beaut. The cheese was well balanced with the meat (what cheese, you ask? Good question. It wasn’t on the sandwich description, but it was definitely in the sandwich). The crema was a nice touch too. But overall, I think all the fat flavors could have been better balanced by a sharper-tasting vegetable. There just weren’t enough pickled red onions to do the job. Maybe a little pepperoncini or diced jalapenos. More punch needed, but damn fine bread at least.
Kevin liked his Jambon ‘et Fromage (why are we suddenly speaking French?) but didn’t love it. “It’s a ham and cheese sandwich,” he said, in a way that suggested it was nothing special. And there was some indication that the ingredients were not spread evenly across the sandwich - a big no-no in the world of sandwich architecture.
Most reviewers of Ham & Cheese rave about the friendliness of the staff. I personally didn’t see it. Maybe they were having an off day. Some reviewers also mention that the prices are too high, but I found them pretty average at around $14. Everyone, including me, thinks their bread is the tops - as the 1950’s saying goes.
The website says, “Never not a good idea,” and perhaps that’s true. I think I’ll need to try it again to find out.
Ham a nice day.
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On the Side
Berkeley’s Delirama movin’ on up
I wrote about this Jewish-style pastrami joint about eight months ago and they appear to now have enough momentum to support a second location right next to the Wolfhound Bar at 5512 San Pablo Ave. in Oakland. Shout out to Melissa in Oakland for that smokin’ hot tip.
Deli owners should follow Katz
The famous NY deli where Meg Ryan pretended to orgasm back in 1989 is busy. Not just with customers, but with fun, newsworthy special promos. And it is my contention that every deli owner in America should be taking a lesson from them. The latest: Katz teamed up with lifestyle brand MadHappy to promote a line of limited edition co-branded merch. And Katz will do a pop up at the opening of MadHappy’s new SOHO store. Another in a long string of attention-getting stunts, and man, it’s smart.
Speaking of Manhatten’s Katz Deli…
An SFGate food writer named Nico Madrigal-Yankowski went searching for Bay Area joints making pastrami as well as Katz does. Nico concludes that SF Mission District’s Wise Sons’ pastrami was the juiciest and tastiest - thin, yet fibrous. “Baffling and delicious,” he concludes. The other two contenders were Delirama (see above: personally think their pastrami is better than Katz) and Saul’s - both in North Berkeley. Wise Sons is at 3150 24th Street. So I guess I have to go there next. Let me know if you want to join me.
Perry’s in Fairfax is now Salt & Pepper
After 61 years, Perry’s in Fairfax finally closed. Honesty, it’s probably for the best. The place was staunchly mediocre, as I wrote over here. The new sandwichery, “Salt & Pepper Sandwich & Grill,” was opened by Surinder Sroa who owns the Marin-famous Lotus restaurant. Sroa also ran Mollie Stone Greenbrae’s Deli department for 10 years. Hmmm, we shall see.
