Corned Beef Sandwich (Cleveland)

On St. Patrick's Day the line outside Slyman's on St. Clair Avenue has started as early as 3 a.m., ahead of an opening that comes earlier than on any other day of the year. Inside, a slicer sits beside the counter and runs through the day, shaving warm brisket into a heap on deli rye, and a single sandwich carries nearly a pound of it. The top slice of rye rides up on the pile like a lid on a pot. Steam rises when the cook lifts it to add mustard, the fat along the edges has gone translucent, and pickling spice and hot beef perfume the whole front room. Nobody carries one with a single hand.

The beef is brisket cured in brine, and the shop's brining recipes for its briskets are said to have stayed the same since the beginning. Cooked until the grain gives way, it is sliced across that grain, which is why each slice tears cleanly between the teeth instead of stretching into strings. The pile is laid in loose folds, with air between the slices, so the meat stays tender under its own weight and the fat softens from the heat of the beef beneath it. Packed down hard, the same quantity turns into a dense brick. The seeded rye has a crumb firm enough to hold the heap without tearing, and its sour caraway edge cuts through the salt and fat on each bite.

The menu around it is short and built on the same brisket. Corned beef is the best seller, pastrami comes second, and the Reuben appears with or without sauerkraut, griddled and sealed with cheese so the filling steams inside the bread. Turkey and grilled cheese fill out the board for anyone who wants less meat. On March 17 the sandwich meets the holiday that sends the whole city looking for corned beef, and the counter fills with people ordering in coats, hands wrapped around the warm paper, the first bite scalding and the next one salty enough to send them back to the mustard.

Cleveland bills itself the corned beef capital of America, and Slyman's is credited with much of that reputation. The city's Jewish delis carried the cured brisket on their own counters first. Corky & Lenny's opened in 1956 in South Euclid's Cedar Center, founded by Sanford "Corky" Kurland and Leonard "Lenny" Kaden, added a second room in Woodmere in 1973, and served corned beef on an assorted platter beside pastrami, salami and tongue until it closed in December 2023. That platter stayed on the menu for 67 years.

Family lore has Joe Slyman explaining the size of the pile as a way of thanking America for his freedom, and the sandwich still reads like that answer. Halfway through, the top slices slide off the stack and the bread starts to give at the corners, so the eater grips tighter and bites down through the full height at once. Juice runs along the wrist. The beef is salty enough to need the rye's sourness and the mustard's heat, and the heap holds its warmth to the last bite because there is so much of it. The sandwich takes longer to eat than it did to order.

Origin and history

Slyman's opened in 1964 on St. Clair Avenue. Cleveland Magazine names Rafic and Joseph Slyman as the founders, and Joseph, born July 28, 1937, would have been 26 when the doors opened. The original counter at 3106 St. Clair stayed the hub of the family business as it grew, and corned beef is its best seller, ahead of pastrami.

The 1970s and 1980s were lean years for the family. Later Slyman's Tavern locations opened in suburbs such as Independence, with Joe's son Freddie overseeing operations. No record names who first heaped a Cleveland corned beef sandwich this high, and the 1964 opening is the earliest date attached to the pile at Slyman's.

On Tuesday, March 17, 2020, the counter that Joe Slyman opened 56 years earlier sold its St. Patrick's Day sandwiches as takeout only, starting at 9 a.m. He died on December 22 of that year at the age of 83, after more than five decades behind the St. Clair Avenue counter.