"zingermans" news and stories

Gastronomically speaking, Ann Arbor, Mich. isn't your typical college town. The home of the maize and blue plays host to a surprisingly vibrant culinary counterculture; sure, there are the requisite pizza parlors and all-night diners, but there's also a bustling farmers' market, an uber-successful food coop, and a myriad of top-shelf, culture-crossing restaurants offering everything from bibimbop to a chipati. However, the unrivaled valedictorian of the wolverine food scene for nearly 30 years has been Zingerman's. A virtual empire with nine businesses -- including a creamery, a bakehouse, and a candy factory -- under its umbrella, Zingerman's is an Ann Arbor institution, right up there with the marching band and hating Ohio State.

We caught up with Assistant Retail Manager Vanessa Sly, a veteran of the dry goods department, and got the lowdown on a day in the trenches at Zingerman's.

More from Vanessa Sly of Zingerman's, after the jump.

Shad may have saved George Washington's army – and countless other European settlers – from starvation, but the bony fish's reputation has declined so precipitously in recent decades that organizers of an annual shad festival in North Carolina are unabashed about excluding it from their festivities.

"We do have fish, but we don't have shad," Grifton Shad Festival secretary Janet Haseley says cheerfully. "We used to have herring, but now we fry commercially raised catfish."

Shad do make a cameo appearance at the 40-year-old festival, which returns to Pitt County this month: In addition to dozens of events punning on shad's name – including Shad-O and a 5K "Spring Shad Run" – the event schedule features a frozen shad toss. "We freeze shad for tossing, and, afterward, we bury them for fertilizer," Haseley says. "Some of the animal people were kind of upset about it, but we think that's a pretty responsible way to do it."

Zingerman's co-founder Ari Weinzweig in front of the deli he opened 27 years ago. Photo: Zingerman's

Back in 1982, when Ari Weinzweig and Paul Saginaw opened Zingerman's Delicatessen in Ann Arbor, Mich., the food world was a much different place. Far fewer Americans knew that real Parmesan cheese did not come in a green plastic tube, or that honey came in more than the plastic-bear variety.

Though Zingerman's began its life as a simple corner deli serving traditional Jewish foods like pastrami, corned beef and noodle kugel, it soon established itself as a new breed of artisanal food store, introducing countless customers to everything from American Spoon Fruit jams to raw milk cave-aged Taleggio cheese. Today, Zingerman's has more than 500 employees and is comprised of nine businesses, including a creamery, restaurant, bakehouse, publishing house and business-training program collectively generating about $36 million every year.

Weinzweig and Saginaw have always maintained an open-book approach to their business, sharing their profit margins with employees and letting customers know exactly how important they are to Zingerman's continued success. And both have always kept an eye turned towards the future -- they've already outlined their vision for 2020, which includes, first and foremost, applying "the model of sustainability to every aspect of our work," whether that means customers, employees or the planet at large.

Ari on Tunisian food, customer loyalty and his forthcoming bacon book after the jump.

Every spring, ostrich eggs appear at Whole Foods, where they nestle in beds of straw alongside the more diminutive and mundane quail and duck eggs. Glimpsing one is a little like watching that video of a pig suckling some tiger cubs: a novel and slightly surreal display of the animal kingdom's quirkier side.

Most shoppers pause to look at them quizzically, perhaps remembering the "Top Chef" contestant whose doom was sealed by an ostrich egg quiche. Others pick them up, marveling at their weight (about 3 pounds) and size. Very few people actually seem to buy them -- aside from the "What on earth do I do with this thing?" factor, there's the additional deterrent of the price tag: each egg, which is the equivalent of about 18-24 chicken eggs, costs $39.99. That's is a lot to pay for breakfast, even if it will feed 10 of your closest friends. But according to one Whole Foods manager, the eggs are oddly popular, particularly among those cooking for office parties. Apparently hummus and carrot sticks just aren't what they used to be.

Though their size may be intimidating, ostrich eggs are surprisingly easy to cook. Their shell is literally their biggest barrier, and that can be easily breached with the help of a hammer. Once you're in, you're pretty much free to do as you please. The watery consistency of the yolk and albumen lends itself to easy blending, and combined with a couple tablespoons of olive oil, some good cheese and whatever other fillings you prefer (the one here employed one bunch of kale, chopped up and sautéed in olive oil, and half a pound of Zingerman's Cheshire), the egg is perfect for scrambling. Its texture is lighter and fluffier than that of a chicken egg, and it has a milder, faintly sweeter taste that's incredibly delicious. It's little wonder that places like The Rooster Cogburn Ostrich Ranch, which sells the eggs for $15 apiece, are trying to increase their popularity. With a little bit of PR savvy, these beauties could be the next breakfast of champions -- or at least the toast of office parties nationwide.

If you like bread, chances are that you'd like to stay away from those national brands with lots of preservatives. I know I prefer the artisanal loaves that are free from shelf-extending additives. My problem is that I don't go through bread fast enough and it invariably gets moldy if I get good quality bread. I generally turn to freezing it, and throwing frozen slices into the toaster when I want to eat them.

Wasted Food has posted this article about storing and keeping bread fresher, longer. It's a question and answer session with Paul LaDuca of Zingerman's, a Michigan bakery that does a lot of mail order. He recommends a bread box, and keeping your loaves in a paper bag. According to LaDuca, a plastic bag just draws the moisture from the crumb into the crust, making it soggy.

I was aware of most of these tips, but I have to admit I hadn't thought of using my oven as a bread box. What are your favorite bread storage tips?

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