Isaly’s Chip Chopped Ham
I stumbled across Jeff Goldblum on Hot Ones. Not only was it charming to listen to as I typed away on a report, I discovered during the interview that he grew up outside of Pittsburgh. The revelation coming by a shared memory ‘between’ us, of Isaly’s Chip Chopped Ham in BBQ sauce. Much to my surprise I ran into a cookbook and props in the Arms Family Museum in my hometown about this very thing, only a few weeks later.
This para-social and nostalgic slap in the face got me looking around. Isaly’s website (featuring a retro store relaunch this year?!) details some of the history and iconic recipes familiar to many a yinzer. This one in particular caught my eye and then I thought…
In another world, Isaly’s grocery/deli/food counter could have easily hit the big time and usurped Arby’s current market share, whatever is left at least.
Now this is not a hate piece on Arby’s (or my hometown), nor is this some weird Ohio pride piece because both of these stores overlap massively with Youngstown and Boardman, Ohio. This is purely a thought experiment and something I hope pans out for the relaunch.
Beef V Ham
Pretty integral to this conversation & most likely at the top of your mind; what the hell is Chip Chopped Ham? It is deli meat cut against the grain, very, very thinly from a loaf of pressed deli ham made from pretty much anything ham adjacent. It certainly isn’t making it to the top of any super food lists unless it’s about racing towards a triple bypass. It’s cheap and was a cornerstone of my childhood mostly as a cold sandwich until later in life. Chip chopped ham & provolone between two slices of Schwebel’s bread.
Now, a sandwich that uses a crock pot to heat ham and BBQ sauce doesn’t seem like a real threat to Arby’s. Beef is a preferred meat that offends fewer religions. Not to mention the secret ingredient to home made renditions of the BBQ, is a “little” tomato monger based out of Pittsburgh. This sweet sauce does a great job of offending BBQ aficionados almost everywhere.
But imagine a world where the humble ham sandwich has a variety of sauces to dress the base slider. Sometimes bathed, sometimes a squirt on a bun, all depending on your preference. Now think about a counter top deli at something like your local Mariano’s. Not only can you grab a quick pint of beer while shopping, but a sandwich to go with it for you, or the kids. I am not above admitting that I have gone to Mariano’s on a summer Saturday with a friend, only to get 4 beers deep chatting, and then shopping for a cook out.
The harsh reality is that the deli ham doesn’t get dry AF (sorry Arby’s) or get that weird gray patina (not sorry about this one). As much as I love beef sandwiches, particularly an Italian beef or a dip, a cold Arby’s sandwich is destined for ketchup or BBQ sauce as my “preferred way to eat it”. A fate I would never subject the other two sandwiches to.
Where’s the sauce?
Off the top of my head I think mustard, horseradish and a gravy would have made for great sauces/dips for this fantasy world. On my quest to offend everyone, let’s move onto the purists. “It’s not the sandwich if you change the sauce.” ,”Leave it alone, it doesn’t need a Michelin Makeover.”
While I agree with all the sandwich lawyers who might feel at home arguing about AOC and DOP wine regulations, I can’t help but think about the stuff I eat now as an adult, dressing the sandwich of my childhood. Swiss, BBQ, Peruvian salsa criolla, on a toasted commercial sesame bun with pierogi and ketchup on the side, is on my list of things to do this year.
A hot sandwich could get tossed into a plastic to go container to make the short trip back to the office space loaded with pierogi, a fork and a handful of napkins. Who needs curly fries or mayo sauces? Maybe I’m missing the train on a butter sauce using the left over grease from our little starchy companions. Hell, why not put a couple on the sandwich and make room for a vegetable on the side so you can pretend you’re eating something healthy?
In the end, I guess I’ll have to make my way to the retro counter when it opens. I’m sure that at the very least I’ll have the blessings to make my franken-sandwiches behind closed doors with a few pounds of ham in my bag. I’ll be able to indulge in all the old school treats they sling alongside this beautiful, shared moment between Jeff and I.
Seriously, one last one for you. The fucking klondike bar was made in Ohio. Isaly’s and Arby’s I knew about but this really threw me for a loop.
