Though I was born in Vancouver and consider myself very much a BC boy, I spent nine years (off and on) growing up in downtown Toronto. I have plenty of fond memories of the city it was where I got my first proper restaurant job, where I found my calling (however fleeting) as a Boy Scout, and where I first discovered girls (Id previously only been to private schools for boys). But aside from the efficiency of its public transportation system and the intense electrical storms in the heat of summer, I never thought Id pine for anything quintessentially Toronto-esque.
That changed when I returned to speak at a conference on food a few years ago and tripped over one of my best and strongest memories, that of the humble, over-sized peameal bacon sandwich made by several competing vendors in the St. Lawrence Market.
I was having a hangover wander with some of my fellow speakers when I was reunited with this beast of a sandwich. It was a simple enough tower of warm peameal bacon slices with crumbled meal, lettuce, cheddar, tomato, and mayonnaise inside a soft, juice-soaked bun, but it was a sight nevertheless. The food editor of GQ, Alan Richman, asked me with no small amount of envy in his voice what it was that I was stuffing my face so gleefully with. I gave him the same dry description that I just gave you, only with my mouth full, explaining that it was the citys signature dish... Torontos greatest culinary gift to Canada. And no, I didnt offer him a bite.
I wasnt completely accurate in my description, however. Despite its drool-inducing properties and massive local appeal, the famous peameal bacon sandwiches have never enjoyed anything approaching national reach. Theyve certainly never made an entrance to Vancouvers food scene, a sad fact that has frustrated me to no end. Ever since that visit Ive asked just about every new butcher shop, deli, and sandwich speciality joint whether theyd ever consider offering one. The response has always been roundly uniform: Weve never heard of it polite chef-speak for f*** the hell off.
When Big Lous Butcher Shop was getting ready to open at Gore and Powell two years ago, I gave them the same spiel and received the identical response. I even tried to entice them with an every former Torontonian living in Vancouver will love you angle, but owners Karl Gregg and Allan Bosomworth just smiled and blinked, completely nonplussed. When Meat & Bread were building their second location, I tried again, to no avail. As a sandwich advocate, I was just no good. So I gave up.
But then two weeks ago I received a text from Gregg asking if I would I please come down to Big Lous and help him and Bosomworth reconstruct the sandwich so beloved by Torontonians. It turns out that I wasnt the only one lobbying for it, and thus, after they met my terms (I would be permitted to eat the experiments), my long-standing policy of never doing consulting jobs flew out the window.
Even by reading up on the internet and employing my recollections (such as they were), a peameal bacon sandwich reminiscent of the ones at Torontos St. Lawrence Market wouldnt be an easy thing for them to replicate. Neither Gregg nor Bosomworth had never eaten the sandwich before, and Big Lous is bereft of a flat top grill for sizzling.
The first thing I noticed was that their peameal bacon slices were half the size of those that you get in Toronto, where five to six slabs usually make it into every sandwich. At Big Lous, theyre using a dozen of their smaller slices for parity.
But they werent greasy enough. In order for that effect to be achieved, they tried warming the peameal slices in their oven with a light wash of porchetta drippings. This it should surprise no one turned out to be the most delicious solution imaginable. They also added more garlic aioli, which had been developed to mimic the garlic sauce used by Sausage King (one of the most famous of the Torontos peameal bacon sandwich makers), and included an option for HP Sauce, which is one of the more standard add-ons (together with bell peppers and fried eggs).
But there werent enough of those golden, mealy crumbles that are like little gifts to your molars at other Toronto joints like Carousel and Paddingtons. In the first draft, they were keeping to the edges, with little (if any) instances within. Not good enough. So they added more.
The sandwich is finished with iceberg lettuce, cheddar and tomato, and instead of using kaiser rolls or sesame seed hamburger buns (as they do most commonly in Toronto), they settled on Portuguese buns, which soak up the fat and mayo without becoming enslaved (to ruin) by either.
In the end, I think theyve nailed a fantastic, borderline enormous facsimile. Even the price is on par with Toronto. I remember them being in the $6-$8 range when I used to live there, and at Big Lous, where they premiere this week (269 Powell St., 604-566-9229, BigLousButcherShop), they sell for $7.95, which is a deal to be sure.
Get em while theyre hot.
