Corned Beef

It is not often that I say this: The taxi cab smelled like heaven. As I headed back to the office, I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, then reached over to pat the collection of bulging paper bags on the seat. Inside were four sandwiches destined for another round in my tireless search for the great corned-beef sandwich. Their heart-tugging aroma of garlicky pickled meat on rye permeated the air, whisking me back on a waft of sandwich steam to the delis of my youth. The steel bowls of pickles and green tomatoes.

May we put in a good word for pepper hash, handmaiden of the fish cake, stand-in for the pricey lemon (in Victorian times), friend of the workingman - on the verge now of culinary extinction in a Philadelphia where ho-hum coleslaws, chow chows, and that tart cherry-pepper hoagie relish seem to be coasting just fine, riding free and easy. Is there no justice? Sweet pepper hash has more than earned a place at the table where for most of the city's existence it was a fixture. "Fish cooks paired it up with fried oysters, soft-shell crabs, codfish balls, shad fritters, and grilled catfish," historian William Woys Weaver recounts, noting its perfect attendance at catfish suppers once prevalent hereabouts.

Seventy-seven patrons became ill with salmonella food poisoning last month after eating corned beef at the Famous Deli, 700 S. Fourth St., a city health official said yesterday. In addition, 17 employees of the restaurant were found to be infected with the Salmonella B-Heidelberg virus, said Stephen Foelster, acting assistant chief of the food-protection division of the Department of Public Health. The employees received letters from the department prohibiting them from returning to work until they tested free of the bacteria.

Jeffrey Jolles figures he's made almost 2 million corned beef sandwiches in his 38 years with Bain's Deli, the Philadelphia restaurant business started by his great-grandparents in 1910. He still makes an occasional sandwich, but mostly Jolles oversees the growing chain, which now has 101 company-owned and franchised delicatessens. Bain's reached the century mark on May 15, with the opening of a deli in Beverly Hills, Calif. On June 8, the company went international with a Bain's in the West Edmonton Mall in Edmonton, Canada.

"If they don't like falafel," Lior Ifrah reasons, "let them eat corned beef. " So far, Ifrah's philosophy seems to be working. The mix of people that gather at his glatt kosher Center City restaurant appear as disparate as the menu items. From chopped liver and kishka to shawarma and hummus, there's a good chance everyone can find something to enjoy at Ifrah's place - Jonathan's, a New York-style deli specializing in Middle Eastern food. For the record, kosher at Jonathan's means that an Orthodox rabbi supervises the restaurant operations in accordance with Jewish dietary laws, and that the deli closes for the sabbath and other Jewish holy days.

St. Patrick's Day is almost as good an excuse for guzzling the brew as New Year's Eve. And every pub worth its pints is more than happy to oblige. But before anyone gets carried away - literally or figuratively - be forewarned that these days the focus is more on having a blast than on getting blasted. Along with all the corny plastic chimney-sweep hats and cardboard shamrocks - what would a festive Irish occasion be without them? - many of the celebrations seem to have taken on a more refined air, with the focus on traditional food and music.

You don't have to be Irish to appreciate St. Patrick's Day. You don't have to march in the annual parade. You don't even have to party the night away to enjoy this holiday, although a lot of people do. For many of us, St. Patrick's Day is very much a food- oriented holiday, a time to indulge in that hearty, traditional meal of corned beef and cabbage. And every food shopper can enjoy savings at the supermarket on the ingredients for the traditional menu; they are among the month's best food buys.

St. Patrick's Day falls on a Lenten Friday this year, which leaves some area Catholics facing a dilemma. Can they still savor corned beef and cabbage with their pint of Guinness? The answer depends on which side of the Delaware you live on. Catholics 14 and older are asked to abstain from meat on Fridays during Lent as an act of penance and a reminder of Jesus' sacrifice, theologians say. In recognition of St. Patrick's Day and the Philadelphia Archdiocese's many Irish Catholics, Cardinal Justin Rigali has granted a general dispensation that gives the faithful a pass to chow down this Friday in return for "some other Lenten work of piety or charity.

You're tooling along in a maroon Cutlass Sierra, cruising the city on primary day with a guy who has worked the last zillion elections. He is free to drive this tour bus because he is a quasi-Republican in a Democratic city. He's an old-timer who will work for anybody and knows how it's done. For primary day, he has dressed in an ill-fitting pinstripe suit held too high with suspenders and topped with a worn dress shirt from the days of polyester and big collars. But fashion's not his game; ward leaders are. And with no battle on the ballot for mayor or Congress or President, this is a ward leader's election.

The days of bad jokes about Irish food are over. The image of leaden Irish cooking - a legacy of famine, emigration and war - is being put to rest by a modern, inspired, cosmopolitan approach. Just in time for St. Patrick's Day, people are talking about the new Irish cuisine. No more rustic simplicity and hearty fare? No more proletarian pub grub? No more bacon and cabbage, soda bread and scones, bangers and mash? Not exactly. The new Irish cuisine is a style of cooking that uses local ingredients and is based on traditional dishes, following a script that British food writer Theodora FitzGibbon proposed nearly a half-century ago. "The best food of a country is the traditional food which has been tried and tested over the centuries," she wrote.

THE NCAA Final Four consists of three teams seeded No. 2 or higher, and one seeded fourth. That said, you would think that among the more than five million brackets entered in CBSSports.com's tournament pool, a significant percentage would have a perfect Final Four. Think again. Apparently, a lot people go with the No. 1 seeds. According to the website, only 17,979 brackets - out of 5,136,592 - penciled in Ohio State (No. 2, East), Kansas (No. 2, Midwest), Kentucky (No. 1, South)

"God. Country. Corned Beef. " Now that's a slogan I can stand behind at Schlesinger's, the Locust Street deli that real estate mogul Alan Domb converted from the Kibbitz Room several months ago, where there's been more than a name change (now an ode to Domb's mother's family.) Hymie's owner Louis Barson was brought in to manage, prices were lowered, and the squishy old bread has been replaced with more substantial rye from Kaplan's. The big pickle bar and sassy Sy Ginsburg pastrami remain (thank goodness)

SANDY HOOK, N.J. - A bag of heroin, a 10-gallon gas tank, five pairs of underwear, a duck caller, and a plastic cow were among the nearly half-million pieces of trash picked up from New Jersey's beaches by volunteers last year. It may appear that everything but the kitchen sink turned up. But that would be wrong: There was one of those, too. Clean Ocean Action, an environmental group that has been doing beach sweeps for 25 years, said in a report released Tuesday that an all-time high of 475,321 pieces of litter was removed from the state's 127-mile shoreline last year.

_ It's more like St. Patrick's week at Fado Irish Pub and Restaurant (1500 Locust St., 215-893-9700), starting with the St. Baldrick's Fundraiser beginning at 4 p.m. tomorrow. Shave your head and raise money to help find a cure for childhood cancer; preregister at stbaldricks.org. There's a St. Practice Day Outdoor Street Festival Saturday on Locust Street between 15th and 16th. On the big day next Thursday, Fado will offer a pint and free pancakes at 8 a.m., plus live music, Irish dancers and pipers.

My Dublin-born brother-in-law and thousands of others who emigrated from the Emerald Isle, will swear to you that corned beef and cabbage was not traditionally served on St. Patrick's Day. Indeed, "a good many authorities these days take pleasure in announcing that corned beef and cabbage isn't a real Irish dish at all," says Colman Andrews, a food and wine expert with more distant Irish roots. "I don't believe that for a minute," he says. Andrews, the author of The Country Cooking of Ireland (Chronicle Books, 2009)

Deli king Russ Cowan doesn't believe in a cursed address. Otherwise, why take a chance on the 60-seat corner space at 19th and Ranstead Streets that's been a graveyard for failed concepts? (Remember Bootsie's? Ashoka Palace?) Pure corned-beef chutzpah, that's why. "I've taken over some real dumps and fixed them up," boasts Cowan, whose ethereal house-pickled meats (towered high into sandwiches like this reuben) have quadrupled revenues at the original Famous 4th Street Deli in Queen Village since he took it over in 2005.

To: Fagan, Kate; Salisbury, James T. Subject: Hola, Pedro So much for running away with the NL East. After getting swept by the Fish, the Phils' lead has been cut to four games. So what do you think about Happ throwing in his normal spot tonight and Pedro making his first start tomorrow at Wrigley? This is a reasonable move. The Phils put a lot of eyes on Pedro in the minors and all say he's worth a look. The team has an obligation to use the best guys, even if that means nudging aside a classy pro like Moyer.

May we put in a good word for pepper hash, handmaiden of the fish cake, stand-in for the pricey lemon (in Victorian times), friend of the workingman - on the verge now of culinary extinction in a Philadelphia where ho-hum coleslaws, chow chows, and that tart cherry-pepper hoagie relish seem to be coasting just fine, riding free and easy. Is there no justice? Sweet pepper hash has more than earned a place at the table where for most of the city's existence it was a fixture. "Fish cooks paired it up with fried oysters, soft-shell crabs, codfish balls, shad fritters, and grilled catfish," historian William Woys Weaver recounts, noting its perfect attendance at catfish suppers once prevalent hereabouts.

Murray's Deli, the Bala Cynwyd fixture, has long derived its identity not so much from its decor or menu of Jewish deli standards, but from its proximity - less than a block away - to competing Hymie's Deli, the older of the two (at this location), but the more recently updated. You won't find locals bragging that Murray's or Hymie's are exemplars of the best deli they've ever tasted. But they both reliably have kosher-style pickles and hot corned beef, matzo ball soup and Sunday morning bagels, smoked fish, Hebrew National salami, and, well, the usual.

While I was in Amsterdam last year, I discovered Sandwichshop Sal-Meijer, which had just celebrated its 50th anniversary. Amsterdam food critic Johannes van Dam, who can make or break a restaurant, awarded the unassuming kosher deli, best known for its fish cakes, corned beef, pastrami, and half-and-half (corned beef and sliced liver) sandwiches a "9-plus," accompanied by a glowing review. Not only is the menu considered the best Jewish fare in the country; this pared-down version of a New York deli - decidedly more Flatbush Avenue than Seventh Avenue - is called the second shul, or synagogue, where in 1945, survivors of World War II would come every day in hopes of seeing friends who also had survived.