Yes, We Have No Salamis

“Salami policing is difficult,” admits Bob Snow, chief sanitarian with the Los Angeles County Health Department. But when Marvin Saul, owner of Junior’s Deli, complained that the health department was not enforcing the regulations fairly, he responded.

“They came in here,” says Saul’s son David, “and said we couldn’t hang our salamis over the counter because the salamis must be refrigerated. But every other deli in town is hanging salamis. “

Snow suggested that Saul send a letter advising which delis were violating the code. And then he moved into action with a major salami crackdown. “Marvin complained about several,” says Snow. “He complained about Nate ‘n Al’s and he complained about Factor’s Famous Deli.”

The California health and safety code is clear: It stipulates that salamis must meet a water activity standard of dryness to acidity, and if not, they must be refrigerated.

“Nate ‘n Al’s doesn’t hang salamis,” says Snow. Neither, it turns out, does Factor’s. Says Bobby Trager, general manager of Factor’s Famous Deli, “We quit hanging salamis some time ago, when the health department cracked down on it. Now we split our salamis and fill them with sawdust to give the feel of a deli.”

The Broadway Deli doesn’t fill their hanging salamis with sawdust--but the Deli doesn’t sell them either. “We were told early on,” says partner Marvin Zeidler, “anything you hang up there, whether its cheese or salami, cannot be used for resale. The law is sort of silly, but we honor it.”

Snow’s department was not deterred: Next they hit the San Fernando Valley and inspected the two branches of Jerry’s Deli. “Until last week,” says a spokeswoman for the delis, “Jerry’s hung 50 to 75 salamis in each store. Then the health department came and said we couldn’t hang them anymore, that they must be refrigerated.”

Down the street at Art’s Deli, Art Ginsberg says he hasn’t had any problems with the health inspectors lately. Ginsberg still hangs a few salamis, “maybe 15 to 20.” Ginsberg admits he’s had problems in the past. “They’ll come in and pick out this and they’ll pick out that,” he says. “Maybe one inspector’s favorite thing is dust on the table top. The next inspector will come in and his favorite thing is a thermometer in the refrigerator. He won’t say a word about the dust on the table top. So periodically they will say something about the salamis. It’s been an ongoing thing with the health department over many, many years.”

Inspector Snow does find that keeping the salamis where they belong is an ongoing problem. “We’ve given out notices and gone back the next day and found the salamis back out again,” he says. “The owners know the inspector won’t be back for a few months so a lot of them will try to get away with it. But we keep a file. If they continue to hang the salamis at room temperature, we may end up taking legal action.”

Isn’t this a lot of fuss over a little bit of decoration? Not at all, says Saul, that’s not the point. “The only way you can achieve a hard salami,” he says, “is by hanging it.”

MORE DELI NEWS: Thirty-eight years before Schatzi on Main was a twinkle in Arnold Schwarzenegger’s eye, there was already a Schatzi Deli in Santa Monica, serving sauerkraut, soups and sausages to a mainly German clientele. “Arnold used to come here all the time,” says Lilo Finston, owner of the deli and souvenir shop, “because he likes our sausages.”

“Arnold bought the name from me,” she says, “but if I had to do it all over again, I wouldn’t sell. It isn’t worth the aggravation. Eighty percent of the calls I get are for the other restaurant.” The 60-year-old Finston, who retained the right to use the Schatzi name for five years, denies the published report that Schwarzenegger paid her $21,000 for the Schatzi name. “It’s not even close,” she says. “He’s a shrewd businessman. His lawyers even tried to put in a clause that I had to keep my store up to their standards. But I told them, ‘I sold him the name, not my deli.’ ”