Pastrami, Cancer, Oy Vay!

AROUND THE BLOCK

I learned today…

I learned today that eating deli meat can increase your risk of cancer significantly. 

 According to a report in the New York Times, Dr. Nigel Brockton, director of research for the American Institute for Cancer Research writes, “We see a four percent increase in the risk of cancer even at 15 grams a day, which is a single slice of ham on a sandwich. And, a 2011 review of studies found, “eating a more typical serving of 50 grams of processed meat a day would increase the risk of colorectal cancer by 18 percent.”

Also, according to the Times, “there is some evidence suggesting an association between processed meat and stomach cancer. And a recent study found an increased risk of breast cancer among women who ate the most processed meats.”

On top of these findings, the Times went on to say, “many of these meats tend to be high in salt and saturated fat.”

Oy gevalt!

Now, I thought that this would be shocking news – particularly for my fellow residents of south Florida generally, and Palm Beach County specifically. 

Palm Beach County has one of the highest concentrations of New York-style delis in the country. At my favorite, 3 G’s Gourmet Deli in Delray, they hand carve their pastrami and corned beef as well as their house-baked, incredibly crusty rye. Flakowitz of Boynton Beach and Boca was touted in Guy Fieri’s Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. (Unfortunately, Flakowitz’s foray into Wellington in Palm Beach was a failure – apparently not the right demographics in polo horse country). TooJay’s has 23 locations around Palm Beach and south Florida. And Ben’s is actually kosher, not kosher-style (but not glatt kosher to the chagrin of the shoppers at Glick’s Supermarket in Delray Beach). And these are just the famous ones!

As the Times reporting spread through the county, I was determined to find out how the news was affecting the regulars at these palaces of deli. So, I went to 3 G’s to find out (and to have a hot pastrami sandwich on rye and a Dr. Brown’s Cel-Ray tonic, of course – full sour pickles only).

My first stop at 3 G’s was to talk to the counter-man, Santiago, responsible for hand carving the meats and bread. (Did you really think in 2019 that the counter-man a NY-style deli would be named Moishe?) 

Since the Times article talked about the risks of eating 15-50 grams of deli meat a day, I wanted to find out from Santiago how many grams were in 3 G’s' pastrami sandwich. Pushing my way through the crowd of ravenous Jews, shouting at me to get in line and wait my turn, I reached the counter and Santiago

“I don’t know nada about grams,” Santiago told me, “but the boss demands that our sandwiches have a ½-pound of meat.”

For us non-metric Americans, ½ pound equals 227 grams or over five times the study’s “typical” daily serving of 50 grams. 

Oy vay!

Next, I stopped at the table where Wednesday’s regular Happy Hour group convenes. Morty, Murray, Moe and Manny, otherwise known as the Mensches (no alliteration is too much for this group) to see if the bad news had reached them. 

Murray, the group’s most articulate spokesman, told me, in between bites of an extra-cost tongue on rye, that he hadn’t seen the Times article as he doesn’t read the Times and only gets his news from Fox.

“What, this is news?” That corned beef and pastrami isn’t good for you,” Murray yelled. (Apparently, Murray always yells – I'm not sure if it’s because he’s perpetually angry or because Morty, Moe and Manny can’t hear anything). “Cancer, shmancer. We’re alter cockers. We’re going to die anyway. Might as well enjoy living while we can. And, let me tell you boychick, eating this sandwich, yelling at Morty, Moe and Manny every Wednesday, this is really living. Not to mention my regular Sunday’s at 3 G’s with my wife, Mildred, where I get the pastrami. What a mechiah!”

So, the Times news notwithstanding, 3 G’s, TooJay’s, Flakowitz and the others needn’t worry. Business will continue to boom as people in Palm Beach are literarily dying to get in.

As I turned to leave, the heretofore silent Morty yelled out to me, “Tedeleh, before you go, you have to try the kishka, it’s not like that ongepotchket dreck they sell at TooJay’s.”