People have been known to debate the bounds of the sandwich. There is some general agreement – a filling between slices of bread – but it all breaks down when dishes like the hot dog enter the …
This item is available in full to subscribers.
We have recently launched a new and improved website. To continue reading, you will need to either log into your subscriber account, or purchase a new subscription.
If you are a digital subscriber with an active subscription, or you are a print subscriber who had access to our previous website, then you already have an account here. Just reset your password if you have not yet logged in to your account on this new site.
If you are a current print subscriber and did not have a user account on our previous website, you can set up a free website account by clicking here.
Otherwise, click here to view your options for subscribing.
Please log in to continue |
People have been known to debate the bounds of the sandwich. There is some general agreement – a filling between slices of bread – but it all breaks down when dishes like the hot dog enter the conversation.
But hot beef truly tests the credulity of a sandwich.
There’s bread, sure. And meat. However, in its most typical presentation, the meat rests on top of white bread, along with a mound or two of mashed potatoes, all smothered in brown gravy.
“I wouldn’t call it a sandwich,” said Richard Michael, an owner of downtown Centralia’s Poppy’s Place. “I call it an open face.”
The dish is a Midwestern staple. There are contests to name the best hot beef in North Dakota. Iowa claims it as a culinary treasure alongside the loose meat sandwich. In Minnesota it rivals the jucy lucy.
Hot beef is the very definition of hearty. The gravy is heaped on. The mashed potatoes are plump. It is warm, comfortable and hefty.
Michael says the hot beef served at Poppy’s Place is one of the more popular menu items.
“We get yelled at if we run out of beef,” he explained.
The meat is from a local ranch. The gravy is not from scratch, but Michael doctors it up so it carries a rich, brawny character with a resonant tang and a raspy bite. And the potatoes?
“They’re not fake,” he said.
Indeed, there is weight to the mashed potatoes equal to the demands of the dish. It’s a simple, filling plate – just what hot beef intends to deliver.
Some say the origin of hot beef can be traced back to leftover pot roast. Writing in Mpls-St Paul Magazine, Dara Moskowitz Grumdahl found two accepted variations of the plate. It can, she wrote, be served with pot roast or roast beef. Otherwise regional differences are few.
There is a stretch of Minnesota that refers to hot beef as a “commercial.” As with almost everything in the culinary world, the explanation for this curiosity depends. Some will tell you it started with traveling salesmen, or commercials. Others point out that prior to the current USDA system – prime, choice, etc. – the best quality meat met commercial, or federal, standards.
But at Poppy’s Place it’s hot beef. JJ’s Cafe in Centralia also presents it as hot beef. But at Mexico’s Diner 54, hot beef is listed as an option under the heading “Hot & Hearty Manhattan.”
Hmm. There’s probably a story behind that.
