Judy Davidoff
Jewish Deli recreation for MACN Week at Layla's
Schmaltz is the liquid gold of traditional Ashkenazi Jewish cooking, used by peasants in the shtetels of eastern Europe and those who later immigrated to America, to make matzoh balls, chopped liver and potato pancakes, or latkes. But rendered chicken skin fell out of favor when health advocates started linking saturated fats to heart disease and clogged arteries. Local chef Jonny Hunter, however, has embraced it anew.
"I use schmaltz at home all the time," says Hunter, a partner and founder of the Underground Food Collective and executive chef at Forequarter. He is apparently not alone. Last year The New York Times declared, "Schmaltz finds a new, younger audience."
Hunter used schmaltz liberally Saturday night for a MACN (Madison Area Chefs Network) Week menu he created paying homage to the Jewish deli tradition of Montreal Canada. Hunter spent a summer there and fell in love with some of the specialties. "Montreal has been a huge influence on me as a cook," says Hunter, noting the city's smoked meat sandwiches and wood-fired-oven bagels in particular.
Though not Jewish himself, Hunter's partner is, and her family lives in town. "When we started hanging out I got introduced to a lot of these foods, and I got really excited about them. Historically there is a lot of depth there."
Hunter added his own twists on the classics Saturday night, using seasonal, local ingredients and lighter presentations. The event was at Layla's, a small, cozy venue on Butler Street with a few tables that can seat about 20 altogether. The intimate quarters gave the event the feel of a communal, family dinner.
The meal began with a choice of celery tonic or fermented beet kvass, both made at the production facility on East Main Street for Forequarter and Underground Butcher. The tonic was the winner, a touch sweet with a strong, fresh taste of pressed celery.
For his chopped liver, Hunter mixed up celery, shallots, hard-boiled eggs and, of course, schmaltz with chicken livers. Served on pletzel, which tastes a lot like challah but is rolled thin, the heavenly dish had the consistency of a pate and was surprisingly light. Hunter says he's not a fan of the chunky variety, prepared by Jewish grandmothers everywhere with a curved knife and wooden bowl before, say, the 1970s.
The whitefish salad was fresh and airy, free of the heavy mayonnaise that often overpowers the delicate fish in deli preparations. Also on the menu was a fish board, with cured salmon, pickled trout, smoked mackerel and crème fraiche and a colorful pickle plate with beets, carrots, kraut, radish, mushrooms and eggs.
The smoked meat sandwich is Hunter's re-creation of the Montreal classic. Served on freshly baked rye bread, the meat was sensibly stacked -- nothing like the slightly obscene, overstuffed sandwiches typical of New York delis -- and simply paired with pickles and mustard.
The meat, which is first smoked and then steamed, tasted more like barbecue than the pastrami or corned beef typically found in Jewish delis in the states, which usually has a saltier and more cured taste. The tender melt-in-your-mouth meat and the rye bread was, dare I say, to die for. Says Hunter: "We've spent six years perfecting the meat recipe."
