An Ode to Oberon, the Gateway Beer

Temperatures are rising. (And freakishly so.) Birds are chirping. Trees are budding. In metro Detroit, that can only mean one thing: it's time for the release of Bell's Oberon.

This seasonal brew is released but once a year. Granted it's released in stupid-large quantities and is probably more widely available than Budweiser now that craft beer bars are all anti-Bud, and also you can usually find it well into October so their definition of it as a "summer seasonal" is pretty loose; but in the hearts and minds of metro Detroiters, Oberon is synonymous with summer.

And it's a pretty big deal. The official count of Oberon release parties and related events in Michigan alone is over 130; while a very small faction of the beer-drinking illuminati go batshit for Bell's Hopslam, the by and large beer drinking majority go b-a-n-a-n-a-s at the mere mention of the world "Oberon."

The reason for this is simple: Bell's Oberon is the ultimate gateway beer. Do you remember where you were when you had your first Oberon? Probably not specifically, but probably it was in college, and also probably it was your first experience with a beer that had a name beyond just that of the brewery + "lite," and that represented a brewing style that was not yellow fizzy.

Oberon is a ubiquitous brew, readily available in most dive bars, college bars, sports bars, corporate chain bars, bougie bars, snooty bars, wine bars, beer bars, and just about everywhere adult beverages are sold. At some point in our lives, all of us started out as wide-eyed, innocent, fledgling beer drinkers sneaking Natty Lights from Grandpa's stash. None of us were born with knowledge of craft beer, and probably very few of us had parents in the know; no, this knowledge had to specifically be sought out. At some point someone passed you an Oberon and said something like, "DUDE, try this - OBERON!!!" (there may have been a "woooooo" that followed) and you did. And you liked it. And it became a special thing, something you and your friends developed a devoted fandom for. It had that certain "being in the know" appeal, that little bit of an air of sophistication - while others ordered up their $2 talls of Miller Lights, you'd ask for a pint of Oberon. Impressive, right?

(Personally I remember many years ago spending endless hours playing darts and drinking ridiculously cheap 22-oz Oberon drafts at Buffalo Wild Wings on 35-cent Tuesday wing night. I was a long way off still from being indoctrinated into the world of craft beer, but this is my special Oberon memory and also how a beer nerd was born.)

Oberon is the ultimate gateway beer. Light, refreshing, summery, happy not hoppy - there are no difficult flavor profiles to overcome, no pronounced hops or funky yeasts; it's just a delightfully drinkable session beer that appeals to a wide range of palates. But Oberon is also a beginner's beer education: now beer has two names, both the name of the brewery and of the beer itself (as opposed to "Budweiser," which is nothing more and nothing less than that ... "Anheuser-Busch" is a name as meaningless to a 16-year-old 21-year-old drinker as "Sysco" is to your average restaurant customer).

From Oberon, it is only a matter of time before a person discovers Blue Moon. And once there, it is a slippery slope to other wheat beers, then witbiers like Hoegaarden, then other Belgian beers (and they like their strong ales over there) like Delirium Tremens - and let's just be real here, the first time you saw that pink elephant on the Tremens bottle you immediately thought of the Simpsons (or maybe Dumbo) and said, "YES, I want THAT." Before you know it, you're experimenting with all sorts of different funky Belgian beers, then investigating various German weissbiers. You're tasting notes of banana and clove, or candied sugar and coriander. And you're liking it.

You're not in Milwaukee anymore, Dorothy.

Oberon is not the best beer in the world. It is not the best American wheat beer in the world. It isn't even the best American wheat beer in Michigan. But it is responsible for popping the craft beer cherries of countless thousands of craft beer drinkers throughout the country, and for that it will always hold a special little place in our hearts. Happy Oberon Day!

[EID Preview] The Legend of Green Dot Stables

All photos by Nicole Rupersburg.

Local legend has it that Green Dot Stables in “Corktown Shores” was opened by a former horseracing jockey – hence the equestrian theme. But the actual history of the place is shrouded in mystery. (Ooooooooh…)

Owner Jacques Driscoll admits they haven’t actually been able to find any reliable information about the bar’s history (and why it has that unique, if entirely inexplicable, equestrian theme). There’s plenty of third-party hearsay available: Jacques heard that the original owner of the building (built in 1970) owned his own horse stables which he called Green Dot and the bar was named after them. (He heard this from a guy he met who claimed to know the original owner’s son.) Chef Les Molnar also heard that there was a guy who owned a bar in Southwest Detroit called Joey’s Green Parrot in the ‘50s and ‘60s, and that that guy was really into horses and his son originally owned the building. (This he heard from his aunt who worked at Joey’s Green Parrot when she was 17.)

Green Dot Stables seems to be a favorite focal point of local lore. Before it closed last year, people “in the know” knew that this was a popular cop hangout that regularly stayed open serving drinks well past 5 a.m.

While we may never know the true history of the Green Dot Stables – it will go down as another unsolved mystery in Detroit's history, much like where Jimmy Hoffa is buried (WHAT IF JIMMY HOFFA IS BURIED IN GREEN DOT???) – the good news is that the new owners have retained that odd equestrian motif and have stayed true to the name “Green Dot Stables.”

“When we learned about the history of the place we wanted to keep the tradition,” Jacques explains. “We wanted it to have the same look and feel with a clean, modern look to it. But we wanted to keep the history and the heritage; [the space is] so conducive [to it] and everything has that feeling already so trying to change it [didn’t make any sense]." Jacques’s wife Christine Driscoll adds, “We wanted it to have the same feel, just polished.”

The Driscolls are a very young couple originally from Detroit. They were living in California but moved back because they saw an opportunity to do something here they never would have been able to do in San Diego.

They acquired the building 8 months ago and began the extensive process of cleaning and refinishing (many years’ worth of cigarette smoke had to be scrubbed away). They kept a lot of the old materials, like the original chairs that look like they belong in a poker room and the faux-granite formica bar and phone booth (which will hold all of their beer and wine to-go). They also added a lot of their own touches to enhance the theme – the footrail of the bar is covered with old horse racing tickets they found on eBay; the hallway to the bathrooms is covered in a horse-themed mural (with newspaper clippings on old Detroit jockeys) done by local artist Jonathan Ryan Rajewski; the walls are adorned with canvas-mounted photographs taken by their friend and local photographer Ara Howrani (who was given access to the track at Northville Downs to take these photos); velvet curtains were made by Detroit designer and seamstress extraordinaire Sarah Lapinski.

“It looks like we had a grand vision that was thought out but really it just came together piece by piece,” Jacques says. “That’s a cool thing about our artwork – [it doesn’t necessarily look like it’s new], it’s just here and looks like it should be here.” They also added an electric fireplace and antique claw machine because … well, why not?

Having moved back home to Detroit after living in San Diego, Jacques got to experience what it means to open a business in the city and have the whole community rally around it. “Jacques’s vision for leaving San Diego was knowing that he couldn’t [open a restaurant there],” Les says. “And I couldn’t do it in Chicago. The community here is incredible; everybody helps. People were coming in doing physical labor; we did not expect it to go the way it did.” Les says every time they would mention that they needed something, someone knew somebody who’d be willing to do it for beer. “We just didn’t expect that. Everyone was really helpful.” Another friend did their logo, and right now an artist at OmniCorp Detroit is designing a bike rack shaped like a horse for them. “Everything in this place has a story like that,” Jacques says.

Jacques has wanted to open a restaurant ever since high school and he started to develop his concept while he and Christine were still living in California. Originally he wanted to serve California-style tacos but the concept evolved once they acquired the building (which is awfully close to Southwest and its many taquerias) and brought Les on board.

Les attended Le Cordon Bleu College of Culinary Arts in Chicago and worked in several Chicago restaurants and as a private chef in Lake Geneva before ending up back in Detroit. He was working at Town Tavern before he connected with Jacques, then spent some of the intermittent time working at Roast waiting for Green Dot to open (the old “trying to get a liquor license in Detroit” story once again). “That was hard to leave,” he says. “I felt like, ‘This is why I went to culinary school.’ But at the end of the day doing my own food and having my own kitchen meant more to me. I really believe in Jacques and Christine as a whole and in the company; I see a lot of potential here.”

The whole team wants Green Dot to be a food place first and have great beer and liquor prices as well. One of the biggest renovations they did was completely overhauling the kitchen, and they have been planning the menu for months. They are making everything from scratch that they can with a lot of focus on maintaining low price points. Everything on the menu will be $2-3 with no additional tax. All domestic beers and well drinks will be $2; all craft beers and premium drinks $3. (And their craft beer selection will include labels like Dragonmead’s Final Absolution. “Where else can you get Final Absolution for $3?” Jacques asks. The answer, of course, is nowhere.)

They’re also very passionate about sourcing high-quality products. “It’s such a minimal price increment to buy quality food,” Jacques explains. “Just upgrade a little – that’s one of our philosophies.” They’re also using a lot of quality local products like kimchi and kraut from the Brinery in Ann Arbor and cheese curds from Oliver Farms for their poutine.

POUTINE!! Yes, poutine, a traditional Canadian dish made of French fries covered in gravy and topped with cheese curds, perfect for comfort food cravings and the late-night drunchies. Months ago when they first announced they’d be serving poutine there was no one else in the city serving it. “We started talking about poutine – why is there no poutine; we’re so close to Canada!” Now Woodbridge Pub does their own version (though it’s a far cry from the actual thing), Mercury Burger Bar has some on the menu (but it’s a disservice to the dish), and Brooklyn Street Local will be serving it when they open (and they’re actually Canadian so it will probably be on-point). From zero to four inside of a year; Detroit, meet your new “it” food!

But the real focus at Green Dot is on sliders. Not wimpy slivers of beef patty slathered in ketchup, mustard and onions on soggy buns that you get at places like Hunter House; exciting sliders like the “Au Poivre” made with beef, peppercorns and cognac aioli; and the “Hot Brown” made with chicken, bacon and mornay sauce (inspired by a sandwich that originated with the Kentucky Derby). Because the price points are so low (seriously, $2-3 each) they hope that diners will be more willing to experiment with unfamiliar dishes, like the “Mystery Meat” slider which will be a rotating selection that might be rabbit, elk, tongue or other wild game or offal. “It’s at a price point you won’t feel bad for spending,” Jacques notes. They’re also serving seven different kinds of fries (POUTINE!), a slightly spicy mac and cheese made with mornay sauce and red pepper flakes, and venison chili on their chili cheese fries and Coney slider.

The plan is to serve food late so that this can be a place for other chefs and restaurant industry people to come after work and enjoy a good meal. “We want to cater to the industry crowd so they have some place to eat that is not a Coney,” Les says. “We want it to be kind of known as a late-night place.” Just not quite as late-night as it used to be, anyway. (According to legend, that is.)

They are ready to open but are still awaiting their liquor license approval from the city (stop me if you’ve heard this one before), but starting next week they will be open serving lunch from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. “It’s a blessing we’re doing lunch first so we can work out all the kinks instead of going full force into it,” Jacques says. But people also tend to be very understanding, especially in Detroit where people are all too familiar with the obstacles involved in opening a business. “If you have good food, good service and a good atmosphere, all the other shit can hit the fan and people will understand anything else,” Les jokes. They hope to be fully open in a month.

Want to see more? View the Flickr set here.

[HOT LIST] Saturday brunch

The King's French Toast at One-Eyed Betty's. Covert cell phone photography by Nicole Rupersburg.

"Brunch is not a meal. It is an art." - Nicole Rupersburg

(Yeah, I just quoted myself.)

Sunday brunching is indeed sacred ... but why should it only be on Sundays? Do not most working adults also have Saturdays off from work? Would not most working adults enjoy a Bloody Mary or four on Saturdays, when they still have another day of weekend left to look forward to? Too often I find myself in search of SATURDAY brunch only to be disappointed by the lack of options. This week's Hot List is as much for me as it is for you.

#1 One-Eyed Betty's (Ferndale)
Sure sure, it's new and right now I'm all "Ohmygod go there right now" every five minutes because the novelty hasn't worn off yet and I totally own that. BUT. The best thing to happen to Ferndale since the year 2011, OEB is a beer drinker's bar and the kind of comfortable yet stylish neighborhood joint that really works best in Ferndale. They serve food that fits the beer drinker's demographic, asking themselves with every menu item "WWHSE?" (What Would Homer Simpson Eat?) They also serve Ferndale's most famous brunch on Saturdays and Sundays from 9 a.m. to 2 p.m. - specifically, the Cinnamon Roll French Toast made famous at Club Bart and reborn at Betty's. Also check out the King's French Toast (a bacon, banana and peanut butter French toast sandwich with maple syrup) and the German Breakfast, a meat and cheese platter served with baguette and whole grain mustard (a traditional breakfast in - you guessed it - Germany, but totally uncommon 'round here). In addition to around 150 beer selections, they also serve proper brunch beverages: bottomless mimosas ($12) and $5 Bloody Mary bars served tableside.

The Count Of... Crepe at What Crepe? Photo by Nicole Rupersburg.

#2 What Crepe? (Royal Oak, Birmingham)
Because it's freakin' good, that's why, and now there's two of them. (A third in Grosse Pointe will be coming soon). Every day is brunch at What Crepe? (also the lesser-known brinner) with some of the best crepes this side of the Atlantic. Delicate crepe shells are stuffed full of exceptionally high-quality ingredients and exquisite flavor combinations, and they've got a great little wine and cocktail list to go with it. The place has a chic, somewhat dramatic European vibe (and you know that totally means it's sophisticated) and the food is top-notch. One crepe might cost you up to $14 but it is more than enough for a meal and worth every penny.

Hillbilly Benedict.

#3 Foran's Grand Trunk Pub (Detroit)
As is this case with most awesome places, people finally figured out this place was awesome (my bad) and now it is ruined. Except on Saturday mornings. Brunch is served on Saturdays AND Sundays, but while Sundays are usually a shitshow of Detroit's crusty-eyed hungover finest, on Saturdays Foran's is a secret retreat, open for brunch and slinging drinks at 9 a.m. and utterly unknown to the outside world. Enjoy it while it lasts. Order the Hillbilly Benedict (sausage, poached egg and cheese on English muffin and smothered in sausage gravy) and fill up on your choice of Bloody Marys or mimosas - $7 for the first, $1 for each additional. (As long as you drink 6 or fewer this is a better deal than most bottomless prices. And if you drink more than 6 you're a fucking champ.)

#4 Vivio's (Detroit)
Actually the breakfast food kind of sucks. Actually all of the food kind of sucks (except the mussels, which totally do NOT suck). And they like to claim an infamous Bloody Mary mix, rather generously referring to it as the "World's Best" ... it is not. BUT. There are few Saturday morning experiences in Detroit more necessary than a Bloody Mary breakfast at Vivio's. Whether observing the pre-game tailgating rituals of Lions fans or just starting out a leisurely Saturday at Eastern Market, putting in a solid Saturday morning session at Vivio's should be on every Detroiter's bucket list. They open at 8 a.m. and serve their Bloody Marys the proper way - with a shot of beer.

#5 Cafe Muse (Royal Oak)
Admittedly their food is probably the best of all, but it gets stupid-busy and it's hard to justify waiting two hours in line for a damn omelette. (But they do open at 7:30 a.m. 7 days a week, so you could always get there stupid-early and beat the crowds. This is a great plan both for early risers and for those of you STILL awake.) Also the mimosas are not bottomless, but they are made with fresh-squeezed orange juice. However, please see once again how their food is the best of all. (Including their pancakes, but also everything else: Cafe Muse is the house that brunch built, after all.)

Bubbling under Beverly Hills Grill (Beverly Hills), the Emory (Ferndale), PJ's Lager House (Detroit), the Bronx Bar (Detroit), Inyo (Ferndale), Honest John's (Detroit), Toast (Birmingham), Atlas Global Bistro (Detroit), Cafe Habana (Royal Oak), Dino's Lounge (Ferndale)

[Oakland County Prosper] A Feast for the Eyes

Torino Espresso + Bar. Photo by Nicole Rupersburg.

There has been a flurry of restaurant opening activity in Oakland County lately. Ferndale has seen One-Eyed Betty’s and John D Bistro both open within the last two months, with Woodward Imperial (which will serve California-style gourmet tacos) and Local Kitchen and Bar (serving contemporary American and upscale comfort food) opening soon. The Roberts Restaurant Group – which operates Streetside Seafood in Birmingham, Town Tavern in Royal Oak, and Beverly Hills Grill in Beverly Hills – recently opened Roadside B&G in Bloomfield Hills in the former Brandy’s location, and are currently working on their next concept, Bar ML in Birmingham. Craft beer lovers have a new mecca at Clubhouse BFD, which just opened in February in Rochester Hills. And there are about a dozen other upscale, big-budget concepts currently in the works in Birmingham and Royal Oak which just goes to show the restaurant industry is on an unprecedented upswing in 2012.

One thing all of these places seem to have in common is a whole new focus on interior design. Previously it seemed that design aesthetic in restaurants and bars was never anything more than an afterthought; if the bar itself was interesting (glossy polished wood perhaps, or industrial chic metal and concrete) the rest sort of fell by the wayside; the emphasis was all on the menu, the wine list and the staffing – the rest would just get covered in tablecloths anyway.

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[EID Feature] 5 Days in Dublin

There are many moments in a person's life that get perhaps prematurely described as "life-changing" experiences, particularly with travel. So often you hear of "once in a lifetime" trips and travel experiences to exotic foreign lands that are "journeys of self-discovery." While there are certainly people in the world who take humanitarian holidays, most of us just go for the food and fun.

For years I've wanted to write something about the 5 days I spent in Dublin over St. Patrick's Day in 2006. I don't know that it necessarily changed my life. I didn't leave there a better person, or any wiser for it. But, aside from the more obvious reasons, it was a significant event in my life. It was the first time I had ever traveled alone.

Nowadays I actually prefer to travel solo. More often than not I'm on a working trip, and even if it isn't a specific assignment I still treat it as a potential one. I bring my camera everywhere and take my time shooting things I think are interesting; I make schedules that are usually shot to hell within the first 15 minutes of the day and I just do everything at my own pace on my own whim. I enjoy the absolute freedom from expectations and obligations ... and not having to cater to other people.

(Now when traveling with others I just try to take the path of least resistance and do all the things that they want to do. It rarely results in a great trip for me, but it deters any useless bickering that could sour a 'good enough' getaway into a miserable one.) The best travel experiences of my life have been the ones I've done solo, and I wear that like a badge of honor. Maybe it's an only child thing; maybe it's because I've always functioned better as a lone wolf type. Regardless, I most enjoy being able to experience things for myself by myself. (Plus I meet many more interesting people that way.)

This is usually the part of the story where people look at me like I just admitted to being super-into methamphetamine and dudes on probation. Look, it's just as hard for me to wrap my head around being the kind of person who can never be alone as it is for them to understand someone like me who craves it; it's just that the former types tend to account for a much larger percentage of society than my kind. (Then again, my kind does tend to be a bit quieter.) To me, doing things alone is more than just normal; it's preferred.

But it wasn't always like that.

In early 2006 I had been dating a guy for a little over three years. It was one of those relationships that was fantastic except for when we were fighting, which was constant - you know, the kind of cripplingly insecure relationships you have in your twenties. We would break up and make up every spring for progressively longer periods of time, until finally after five years it burned itself out entirely. I understand it all now, and I admit to my fair share of crazy there. Problem was, it was one of the worst periods of my life and that had absolutely nothing to do with him; his only crime was that he was there for me to take it out on.

I was hell-bent on going to Ireland for St. Patrick's Day (contrary to popular belief, they DO indeed celebrate it there, and they do it big). We got a great deal on airfare and booked the trip. Then, two weeks before we were supposed to leave for the Emerald Isle, we had our annual knock-down, drag-out blowout breakup. And I said fuck it, it's my trip and I'm going.

And good golly molly I was scared. Me! The girl who is regularly accused by friends, family and lovers as being too independent, too guarded, too closed-off, too detached; the girl total strangers have commented on having walls to rival Fort Knox. ME. I was fucking terrified. At this point in time, I had never really done anything of any magnitude alone. An introvert by nature and also something of a social phobe (thank you alcohol for the many years you have enabled me to feign social confidence), traveling *TO ANOTHER COUNTRY* *BY MYSELF* *FOR FIVE DAYS* seemed just shy of committable insanity. And my friends all thought so too.

And that's really the story right there. It's not about what I did, what I saw, or the fact that I went for a United Nations hat trick of dudes I made out with. It's really about the people I met - from Howard, a molecular biologist I met on the plane who kept me text message-company for the duration of my trip, propping up my ego to what would ultimately be the tune of a $300 phone bill; to Column, the native Dubliner I met outside while smoking a cig who invited me along to hang with his crew for the day resulting in the best St. Patrick's Day I've ever had. Really, it was about learning to be comfortable in my own skin, on my own. I could have hidden in my hotel the whole time, ducking out only for daytime walks and tourist attractions before disappearing back inside the safety of my room before the intimidating night came alive. I could have had a nice, safe, boring trip. But I didn't.

Sure, I did the touristy stuff: saw the Cathedral of the Holy Trinity, the Dublin Castle, St. Stephen's Green. I toured the Guinness Brewery and the Old Jameson Distillery. I bought T-shirts and shot glasses. But I also spent time in the Temple Bar area and in THE Temple Bar (actually, it was the very first thing I did in Dublin and promptly almost got kicked out when the first thing I did was light up a cigarette - not knowing Dublin had gone all non-smoking). I watched a soccer match at a local pub called Nancy Hand's, where I had my first-ever fried egg on a burger. (I thought it was the weirdest thing in the world. This was before Roast.) Had a few pints of Guinness at the historic Mulligan's Pub (rumored to be a James Joyce haunt ... as are most of the old bars in Dublin). Treated myself to a fancy dinner in a fancy hotel because I deserved something nice.

I was still terrified through most of it (except for when I got so stinking pissed - that's Irish for "drunk" - that I forgot to be). Coming home I didn't feel particularly empowered or accomplished; I still felt like a scared little girl who had faced the big bad and hadn't necessarily come out any stronger for it. My friends all said they were proud of me, which seemed like such a strange thing to be proud of; it's not like I cured cancer or anything, but I guess not all moments in a person's life exist on a Cured Cancer/Did Not Cure Cancer scale.

Like most things, it was only with time and reflection that the significance of the event became clear. It wasn't just about not missing out on the vacation I had been so looking forward to and going despite the breakup just to prove I could because I'm stubborn; it was about overcoming fear and tapping into an inner reserve of independence and self-reliance that, in the end, did make me a stronger person after all.

I had intended to go for the food and fun. But I learned something vastly more important over those five days: to not be afraid of being alone. There aren't a lot of major moments in a person's life that changes them forever; really it's more like an infinite number of small moments all contributing to a constant process of personal evolution. But if I had to draw a line in the sand between the person I was and the person I was to become, it would be at this moment. It wasn't the best trip of my life, but it was the most important.

"May you have food and raiment, a soft pillow for your head; may you be 40 years in heaven before the devil knows you're dead." - Irish blessing

[Concentrate] Only in Ann Arbor: Ron's Roadside BBQ

The reviews on Yelp say it best. Between the effusive praises and complaints that their favorite dishes were sold out, folks like Peggy F of Northville describe Ron's Roadside BBQ (a.k.a. Romanoff's Catering) as "hidden off to the side of nowhere and nothing." And that just seems to fuel the passion for a family business that has been an Ann Arbor fixture for almost 40 years but mostly attracts those who are 'in-the-know.'

Roman Philipp started his business as a small catering company in the ‘60s, then built the kitchen that currently houses Romanoff's Catering and Ron's Roadside BBQ in 1973. Roman and his family ran the business for all these decades until he passed away a few years ago. At that time, Roman's son Ron was living in New York and operating his own BBQ restaurant; his father's death prompted him to come home and helm the family business.

To say Ron is an interesting character would be an understatement. He studied at LaVarenne Cooking School in France, worked in high-profile kitchens in Manhattan and the Hamptons, was a chef for the Barefoot Contessa, spent some time out in New York's wine country then decided to open his own BBQ restaurant in upstate New York.

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[HOT LIST] Corned beef

Corned beef hash at Farmers Restaurant. Covert cell phone photography by Nicole Rupersburg.

On July 5, 2011, EID ran a "Corned beef sandwiches" Hot List. It was our third-ever Hot List and a lot of you hadn't heard of us yet. This week, in honor of Detroit's Irish culture and our proud corned beef heritage, we're re-visiting and expanding this list. These Hot Lists are meant to be infinitely revisitable as new places open, others close, or we just decide we've changed our minds. Bloggers privilege! 

Detroit is corned beef country. From Sy Ginsberg to Wigley's to Grobbel's, from the Dinty Moore to the Reuben, you want corned beef – the brined brisket of the gods – you got it, kid. There are many places to buy it and plenty of ways to eat it; we fancy it piled between two slices of hearty homemade bread or fried up with potatoes, onions and lots of butter (a glorious thing called "hash").

#1 Hygrade Deli Detroit

Kick it way old school at this V-is-for-very-and-vintage Michigan Avenue coffee shop, located just around the way from the United plant, home of the Sy Ginsberg label. (Sy Ginsberg corned beef is, of course, served.) Get the "meal" sandwich – corned beef, swiss, coleslaw and dressing - on an onion roll. The pickles come from Detroit's own Topor's, also in the 'hood. 

#2 Louie's Ham and Corned Beef Eastern Market

Where do you get corned beef in Eastern Market, home to Wigley's and Grobbel's? You get it everydamnwhere. Or so it seems. And while we're inclined to be creatures of habit and run straight for Russell Street Deli, lately it's Louie's, out on the topside of the 'hood, that's calling our names.

#3 Stage Deli West Bloomfield
A legacy that began in Oak Park fifty or so years ago lives on in this OaCo staple, where you can order wines by the glass with your big ass platters and sandwiches. This place feels like like those famous New York delis, complete with luck-of-the-draw service, but much cleaner. Also, fewer European tourists.

#4 Mudgie's Deli Corktown

It's almost all sandwiches, almost all the time at this chill Metro Times' two-time "Best Deli in Wayne County" winner located in a sleepy corner of Corktown. Dig the Barrett sandwich – meat (Sy Ginsberg in the hizzouse), house made coleslaw, Swiss and thousand island on an onion roll, served warm. Will it snag the coveted "Best Deli" title for the third year in a row? With their current tour of the United States of Sandwiches (a new state's signature sandwich is featured every week), they definitely have our vote for innovation. 

#5 Farmers Restaurant Eastern Market 
Here's an insider's tip (and this goes for everywhere in Eastern Market): don't go on Saturday. Farmers is super-small (don't let that mirror running along the whole side of one wall fool you: that's a WALL) and very old-school. As in, go at about 2:00 on a random weekday afternoon and find yourself in the company of nothing but old men speaking Polish. It's fabulously drab but the food is fresh, all high-quality diner classics with HUGE portions. There are endless permutations of corned beef on the menu, but get the corned beef hash - a heaping mound of shredded corned beef and perfectly crispy fried potatoes served with two eggs on top AND a side of toast. Easily three full meals, all for $6.75. Eastern Market is just the BEST.

Bubbling under Woodbridge Pub (Detroit), Jimmy Dee's (Clinton Twp.), Russell Street Deli (Eastern Market), Avalon Bakery (Detroit), Onion Roll (Royal Oak), Lou's (Detroit, Southfield), Steve's (Bloomfield Hills), Foran's Grand Trunk Pub (Detroit), Bread Basket (Livonia), Zingerman's Deli (Ann Arbor), Star Deli (Southfield), PJ's Lager House (Corktown)