The Tucson Homeskillet Chills With The Good People Over At Isabella's Ice Cream. Well...All Both Of Them.

It was a little while ago when we first heard about Isabella's Ice Cream. We were at the Rincon Market, just there to pick up some fish or something, when we came across a curious installment. There was this old timey delivery truck parked inside which turned out to be a sort of ice cream service station. It was a warm day (as most days are here in Tucson anyway) so we figured...why not? Let's grab a cone as we decide on whether to get the snapper or the grouper.

Pretty sure we just ended up getting sandwiches at the deli.

Anyway, as we were walking around the shop the only solid thing we could make an agreement on was how amazing the ice cream were were eating tasted. The flavors were prefect, even if they were just a solid vanilla and chocolate. Smooth, creamy and very very fresh. Going back to the Model T to get some information we were thrilled to find that this Isabella's Ice Cream was locally made and sourced. Awesome. A Tucson owned and operated business employing locals and putting out an extremely tasty product. Good on them.

 Later when we were able to do some research on the good folks at Isabella's we were shocked, and dutifully impressed, to find that the only real employees there were the owners and operators: Just two.

A husband and wife team.

Kristel and Dominic doing what they do best in a pretty small work area

Yep, that's right. Just two core workers are behind the genius that is Isabella's and because of this the Tucson Homeskillet just had to get down and hang out with them to see how it is all done.

Kristel and Dominic Johnson are the force and flurry behind their business. Kristel originally hails from Elmhurst, Illinois but moved to Scottsdale when she was a little girl. Dominic comes from a spot in the Caribbean called St. Lucia and was an Olympic pole vaulter in three separate games. Both of them now call Tucson home, not only because of their business, but because of their family and how they met in the first place.

The machines of (cool) loving grace

"Dominic and I met at the U of A," Kristel says in their tiny work space just off of 17th Street. "We met through a common friend and started dating during my senior year. Dominic graduated two years earlier but still based his track training at the university with the same coaches he had when he was a student. As for me I just happened to stay in Tucson after graduating."

And we are glad they decided to stay here. Having Isabella's Ice Cream anywhere else would seem, well...just not cool.

Um, let's see...yes please

Checking out the few machines in their space, we wanted to know how the concept of Isabella's came about in the first place.

"Eight years ago, when our daughters were very little, we lived in this big master planned community," sites Kristel, "and one day this super creepy ice cream truck drove by the house. I'm sure you know the type (note: oh yes we do and we know you do to: windowless vans bleating out broke down hurdy gurdy music selling sad faces of super heroes in ice cream formation...yeah, those). Anyway, Dominic saw this and simply said 'Oh there has got to be a better way'. So, initially, our concept was to create a 'non-creepy' ice cream truck.

"So we started with the concept of the truck. We wanted to use the beauty and charm of the past and combine it with the technology of today. Isabella's is based on being both socially and environmentally responsible. Then I decided to create a product we feel confident serving to our daughters."

Proud ice cream maker and environmental advocate

Ok, so, the anti creep factor on the ice cream trucks, done. They got themselves a couple of beautiful Model T's, restored them and made them look like something you'd feel safe buying a food product from.

But then, the best part was implemented: Those old Model T's were redesigned to be 100% electric. That's right. No fuel emissions, no diesel pollution, none of that. Isabella's ice cream trucks are totally green adding to their tagline:

Delicious and good for the Earth!

We can get down with that.

Just a day in the life of Isabella's

"It's all about being environmentally friendly," notes Kristel as she shows us around the various trucks. "These are full electric powered trucks with solar panels on the roof that run the freezers. Our ice cream is literally 'frozen by the sun'...and we just had that term trademarked!

"When we bought our first truck there was no engine. Dominic rebuilt the truck and the woody body and replaced it with reclaimed basketball court flooring. Again, this is us being totally green focused. We didn't need to go fast so the trucks top off at 40mph...but go a lot faster if we're going downhill! That is a perfect speed for going around town.

"The only downside to being electric is having a driving range of about 30 to 40 miles, so we have to re-charge. If we have events that are more than 18 miles away, we can't drive them there. Another problem is if we forget to charge the trucks. A full charge takes about 8 hours and we just can't pull over and stop for gas."

Olympic pole vaulting has nothing on running your own business

Not only are their solar panels made locally by a company called Global Solar but their freezers are made here in Tucson too by the green energy company Sundanzer. So obviously Kristel and Dominic are really connected to their Tucson green energy and business foundation. Pretty sure they source local for their ingredients when they can right?

"Oh of course," nods Kristel in a matter of fact tone. "Living and raising our daughters in Tucson is our choice. Obviously we want to support local as much as possible. It's not always easy and I've had to do some research, but we are very passionate about it. Obviously there are some ingredients we can't source local, such as the cocoa and vanilla beans, but we make sure to source from purveyors who are focused on sustainability.

"Tucson has grown our business, embraced us and we are so grateful!"

On a hot day, this is all you need...on any day really

"Ice cream production is a two step, two day process," Kristel instructed when we asked for them to take us on a day-in-the-life-of Isabella's. "Typically we are making a batch or two, or three or even four, of ice cream in the pasteurizer, or churning, the ice cream. Our pasteurization process involves combining the fresh ingredients, the milk, cream, egg yolk and sugar, into the pasteurizer. Once the 36 gallon batch reaches a temperature of 160 degrees, we "pasteurize", or hold the temperature, for 30 minutes.

"We then empty the pasteurizer into 3 or 5 gallon buckets and add the ingredients such as vanilla beans, dried lavender, hand made caramel, for example. The ice cream ages overnight in the cooler and then it is ready to be churned.

"We churn our ice cream in either a 3 gallon batch freezer or a 10 gallon batch freezer and both take approximately 8 minutes to churn and freeze the ice cream. Once completed, the ice cream has the texture of soft serve. We then put the ice cream into single serve containers, 1.5 gallon pans or 3 gallon containers depending on the order we are fulfilling. If our team is working very hard, we can stuff 1,000 pints of ice cream in about 4 to 5 hours!

"We are always moving at the creamery, very little down time. Mondays through Thursdays are typical production days and Fridays through Sunday normally are catering events with the trucks. So there is never a set day off."

The lavender vanilla? Oh man...so good

Whew. Just listening to that made us tired. We always knew that running a small business was challenging but a small business that is gaining in popularity with a limited staff is even more exhausting. Other than time and space constraints, we wanted to know what other obstacles Kristel and Dominic face on a regular basis.

"The heat!," Kristel immediately blurts out. "Summer in Tucson is brutal and our business goes up and down. July is usually dead as is January, that is until the gem show starts, so it's a rollercoaster for production planning, logistics, stuff like that.

"We are also focused on the distribution of our products throughout the southwest, so once the ice cream is loaded onto a delivery truck and is shipped across the desert to California, Nevada or even across the Pacific to Hawaii, yes!, Isabella's is now going to Hawaii!, we have no control over that. So that makes me nervous.

"But ice cream is fun!" she chirps up. "It's busy and stressful running all aspects of the business as it grows and we've had to figure out a lot along the way, but it's amazing to see a concept that we just 'thought up' literally come to fruition.

"It's also incredible to think about all of the people that are buying and eating the ice cream that I personally created. That is a huge compliment!"

Kristel breaking it down for us

During this whole time hanging out with Kristel and Dominic we were lucky enough to get to sample some of the goods. They had a whiskey chocolate that was unreal and a cinnamon swirl that was totally outrageous. But out of all of their creations we just had to wonder what they consider their signature flavor.

"Oh, it's the lavender vanilla, by far," Kristel pops with a confident smile. "Probably followed by the salted caramel pecan, which is super popular."

We had both and we couldn't decide either. We're sure you will do the same because all of Isabella's creations are delicious. It sort of took us back to being at the market: Do we want salmon or carp? Vanilla or chocolate?

Better get one of each because it's all so so tasty.

1,000 International Champion? Oh wait...never mind, we see it

As we made our way out of their work space and back into the hot summer sun, one more question arose as we said goodbye to Kristel and Dominic:

Just where do you see yourselves and Isabella's in the next couple of years?

Kristel tipped her head a bit and said with a nod, "Our focus now, over the next couple of years, is to franchise our trucks in the same market, here in the pacific southwest, as we have our ice cream in. We want people to buy our ice cream at the stores, hire the trucks for catering and parties, buy from the trucks at various food truck events, not only here in Tucson but other cities as well. In California and, well...who knows?

"We just want to be the non-creepy ice cream truck in your town."

By the way, the company is named after one of their daughters. Did we mention that? Well...now we did.

Just two spoons to heaven

Not only are the trucks not creepy but the ice cream itself is far from being grody as well. Far far from it. In fact, it is some of the best ice cream we have had here or anywhere else on our culinary adventures. And that is saying a lot.

You can find Isabella's at (obviously) the Rincon Market but also at Johnny Gibson's downtown, Time Market, and the Food Conspiracy Co-Op. Plus you can purchase their stuff in most Whole Foods across Arizona, Nevada, California and now Hawaii. How amazing is that?

You can also get some Isabella's when you're at the Loft Cinema, The Hilton El Conquistador, Renee's Organic Oven, 1702 Pizza, Leura's Mexican Food, Augustin Kitchen, Seis Kitchen and Boca Tacos y Tequila.

To see where Isabella's are going to be for food truck events, you need to follow them on Facebook HERE.

Thank you Kristel and Dominic. Your ice cream rules, your environmental vision and activism rules and, above all, you guys rule.

Cheers!

Just awesome people putting out an awesome product

Camera, Typing and Eating
"Metal" Mark Whittaker
A Couple of Days After the 4th of July, 2016

Metal Influence:

HIGH ON FIRE

"Frost Hammer"

Pastrami: Ode To A Lifelong Obsession

Just to let you know, I have had pastrami sandwiches from all over the United States. Yes, I have been to Carnegie Deli and Katz's in New York (which I touch on), but what you are about to read is my pastrami obsession from the different places I have lived in, both here in Tucson and back in California. Think of it as a "where can a pastrami hooked kid get a decent sandwich in his neighborhood?". Makes it a bit more intimate don't you think?

I think so.

Anyway, the sandwiches I have had in New York and beyond were amazing (although I do think the Carnegie is a bit overrated, I mean, c'mon, it's a tourist spectacle at this point, that tower of meat is just silly...yet delicious) but here is a nod to all of the pastrami sandwiches from around my blocks.

Thank you pastrami, past, present and sandwiches yet to be consumed. You...you made me the man I am today. You...you complete me.

Young Metal Mark and his early pastrami filled belly in repose in Los Angeles

Not too sure, but I think it came from a movie. Or perhaps a TV show I saw.

Somebody was eating a pastrami sandwich and it just looked heavenly. At the age of 8 or 9 the only deli meat I was accustomed to was bologna that came in clear plastic silos, "ham" and the frozen meat surrogate enigma also known as Steak-Umm. Living with my dad, who was famously known for being quite terrified of most foods, he kept the fridge stocked with glistening slabs he thought a spazzy little KISS listening to kid would enjoy for lunch or snack. I had little time to care about the menu in the house; between playing outside, going to school, getting high score on Donkey Kong or trying to get my Thief/Magic User to the next level, as long as I was eating, I was content.

Here's the thing though: I grew up in Glendale, CA, a pleasant suburb in Los Angeles. My friends were really diverse, culturally, so I was extremely lucky in that capacity. When I spent the night at any one of their houses, I was treated to trips of varied cuisines from around the globe.

Monte was Hispanic and through his mom and family I had my first tamale and authentic taco, not the yellow greased meat stuffed variety at Taco Bell (which was right next to the arcade I frequented so I have had my share, believe me) and they were fantastic. Victor was Korean so marinaded pork and rice with kimchi, hot and cold noodles, spicy soups and squid, squid! I ate squid!, were suspicious at first but divine. Michael was Italian so real pasta with real sauces and real meatballs made fresh by a real Italian mother changed the way I look and treat food to this day.

That's why when I saw that guy on the TV eat a pastrami sandwich, I knew I had to have one. Just think of it as a calling of sorts.

At a little corner deli, the pastrami craze took hold

Luckily, just a few blocks from where we lived, right across from my elementary school, was a little corner deli called the LA Cafe. When I walked in I was greeted by the ding-a-ling of a bell and a smiling Vietnamese lady behind the counter. The place smelled exotic, like a combination of steaming meats, fresh bread and heavy mustard; familiar yet strange at the same time. It was quite small so all of the ingredients, I'm sure, were packed tight together and with the front door always closed, along with an old oscillating fan working on a table in the distance, the scent of the place immediately drew me in and for some reason I knew I had found something special.

I got a small sandwich, like 6 inches, hot, with yellow mustard, tomatoes and Provolone cheese, which is what the guy on TV was eating...I think. The nice lady quickly went to work and after a few minutes my first pastrami sandwich was in front of me. After taking a seat near a window, I nervously picked up the soft roll packed deep with cured meat and took a bite.

Even at that young age, I knew I had found what I had been looking for - food wise that is. Whatever that movie or TV show that I wanted to sandwich emulate did nothing for what I was experiencing at that moment. That sandwich was beyond any fast food burger or sweet treat from the U-Tote-M market. So young, yet I had found my calling. Food wise, of course.

That night when my dad came home I told him about my new found love of pastrami.

"You don't like pastrami," he claimed as he put a Swanson's Salisbury steak dinner in front of me.

"Uh. Yeah I do."

"Since when?"

Even after telling him the extended story, he was still convinced that I was lying somehow about my love for that sandwich. Maybe because at that age I changed my love of things quite often. I was a Cub Scout for exactly a week, I wanted cello lessons and went once, Power Lord action figures were quickly replaced by Masters of the Universe. Stuff like that.

"You don't like pastrami."

But this phase I knew would stick.

The addiction taken to a new level

When my mom got word that I was now a pastrami fiend, she only had one thing to say:

"Oh, you like pastrami? Well we need to take you to Langer's then."

Apparently this place she was taking me to was famous for their pastrami sandwiches. Whatever. I was content with my little corner place, with the nice Vietnamese family that always greeted me with warm smiles and after a couple of visits all she would ask in broken English was "Pastrami?" All I had to do then was nod and she'd deliver another perfect sandwich to my 9 year old chubby face.

Langer's Deli was different. It was bigger. Much bigger. And packed with people. On a late afternoon on Alvarado Street in the MacArthur Park area of Los Angeles, there was a line out the door. So we shuffled through with the rest of the hungry crowd, eventually getting to the counter.

There it was, in a big sign over the bustling sandwich line, proclaiming: The #19, World's Best Pastrami Sandwich".

Okay mister number nineteen. Let's see what you got.

The Langer's Deli #19, a sandwich game changer for this kid

It was rough but we luckily found a table by walking around the busy restaurant a bit. After sitting down among the throngs of blissful eaters, I scooted my chair in, took a look at my pastrami sandwich and made a face. It didn't look like the sandwich I got from the LA Cafe. This was on seeded rye bread, no cheese, just mustard and served with a dill pickle. But, whatever. I was hungry and curious to know what World Famous pastrami tasted like.

After taking a bite...yep. It tasted like this.

The flavor on the meat was different but so much deeper in quality and excellence. The bread was soft and chewy and I didn't even miss the cheese or tomatoes. Mom then explained what Kosher was, that dairy couldn't be anywhere near the meat, which I found strange but didn't care. Luckily I had a few Jewish friends so from then on I always had them take me to their favorite Kosher deli for a pastrami sandwich when we got the chance. Most were good, but none compared to the #19 at Langer's.

Oh sure, I still went to my little Vietnamese family down the street, but only because it was so close and they knew exactly what I wanted when I walked in with the tinkling of that bell. But when I bit into the oh so familiar taste of the LA Cafe sandwich, I knew there were pastrami adventures just waiting for me out there, and Langer's had planted that seed of exploration.

Then, without warning, the little corner deli closed down.

Soon after, my dad and I moved from Los Angeles to a town near my hometown, Carmel, called Salinas,  and my pastrami prospects didn't look too good.

At the time, ToGo's was the only pastrami game in town

Salinas, for quite some time, was the hub of farming in central California. In fact, Salinas had the nickname of "The Lettuce Bowl" because there were nothing but lettuce fields everywhere. In my big city/small town displacement and creeping adolescence, my love of Hard Rock turned to Speed and Thrash Metal, my love of New Wave turned to Hardcore Punk and my youthful skateboarding around town progressed into a full thrasher lifestyle. This is where cute little Mark began forming into Metal Mark and my angst was only offset by the lack of a decent deli in Salinas.

Oh sure, there were plenty of good Mexican restaurants, which was great, and lots of cheap fast food and donut shops that served pizza, but what I really missed was my longtime friend the pastrami sandwich. Only trips to LA to visit my mom were I treated to good delis and Langer's, but around Salinas in the mid-80s, there was only one game in town.

It was called ToGo's and was a local west coast chain. The first time I walked into a ToGo's my first reaction was 'I don't like the smell.' It had this fake meat and hard plastic aroma but I was desperate to find a good pastrami sandwich within skating distance and there was one just a few blocks from my school, much like the little corner deli I missed so much back in Glendale.


The sandwich was...fine. Not horrible, not great, but good enough to satiate my eternal craving for pastrami. Luckily, when high school rolled around, I had friends that would go to work for ToGo's and often enough would get the occasional "hook up" on the pastrami front. But it wasn't the same. It lacked character and fresh flavor and was also kind of drippy. And when my mom moved from LA to Wilmington, Delaware, her home city and state, to be closer to her family, I knew I was in trouble.

The ToGo's pastrami sandwich...meh, but fine when the cravings came, which was often

In the post high school stage of my life there were various holidays back east to visit my mom, which meant trips to New York, Philadelphia, Chicago, etc. It was at these bustling metropolises I tried a variety of foods; the cheesesteaks in Philly, Chicago dogs, New York style pizza, all that. One thing was for sure though...I got me some fantastic pastrami sandwiches, especially in New York. My favorite was at Katz's Deli on East Houston street. It was a lot like Langer's; loud, busy, brimming with life, very Kosher and most importantly, had an amazing pastrami sandwich. The meat tower over at the Carnegie was just silly to me and the vibe there was way too touristy. Katz's though. That was my east coast jam.

After "dabbling" in college, I moved to San Francisco in 1995 which made me more excited than ever because I knew the food scene there was unbeatable. My pastrami addiction moved to Mission Style Burritos and if you've ever had a Mission Style Burrito, you know why. Still though, I needed to feed the pastrami beast that still lived inside me. I searched the local papers and publications looking for a real deli, when the internet became, well, the internet, I did online searches for the best pastrami in town, I asked locals where I should go, what I should eat and which bus line did I need to get on. Honestly, at that juncture in San Francisco, there wasn't a whole lot of options.

Except one.

A second home in SF if you will

Tommy's Joynt rested on the corner of Geary and Van Ness and was famous for their huge cuts of meat and gargantuan portions per plate. For me, this is where Metallica got Jason Newsted drunk and then announced that he was their new bassist. It was also a return to a corner deli, although in a much louder and drunker capacity. The deli wizards at Tommy's cut thick slices per order and then piled it on soft rolls or crusty bread and the addition of a full bar didn't hurt either.


The pastrami at Tommy's was good. Not Kosher, a bit greasy but still they provided a good sandwich when the perennial fog and drizzle gloom hit. This was my place to tuck in and hide among the crowds, disappearing into a mammoth sandwich and a mug of beer when the bustle of the traffic and onset of hipster bullcrap became too much.

I can't even imagine what it's like now. But in the early 2000's, it was glorious.

Thick and manly, the Tommy's pastrami way

Right before I moved from San Francisco to Tucson in 2006 to be with my now wife, a great little place opened up on upper Polk that I only visited once but was amazed at how they captured the essence of east coast deli.

Miller's was a delight, surrounded by questionable Asian fare and sex shops, and their pastrami sandwich brought me back to snow days in New York, watching the heavily coated community shuffle by in the sleet as I cozily sunk into a hot pastrami on rye. After experiencing Miller's, which wasn't too far from my last apartment on Columbus and Union, I knew I would return for more. Then one chilly night I met She-Ra, two days later I proposed and a month later I moved to Tucson. It's...a long, but lovely story.

You can read all about it in my first book HERE.

We could have been something Miller's, we coulda had a relationship

My first meal in Tucson was breakfast at Blue Willow, which was fine. I was bleary from the 14+ hour drive on no sleep but was happy to watch a brightly colored macaw dance around the back patio who had obviously escaped from the vet clinic next door. The second thing I ate, as She-Ra was driving me around town introducing me to my new home, was a Sonoran hot dog. No, it wasn't from BK or El Guero Canelo, it was from random dude with a cart on some dusty lot and, just like the Mission Burritos, my attention moved from pastrami to those hot dogs for a bit. I think I ate like three or four right then and there. They were unique, delicious and oh so bad for you. I couldn't get enough.

That is until I started to get a little pudgy, especially 'round the middle, then I knew I had to dial the Sonoran hot dog habit down a few notches.

As I began settling into my new home in the Old Pueblo, I knew what my next mission was: to find a great pastrami sandwich.

When I asked around the resounding direction I was pointed towards was a place called Schlomo and Vito's. It was a bit out of the way from our snug garden nook in midtown but, hey, if everyone says this is the place to go in Tucson for pastrami then a mini road trip it is!

The place was nice, a great set up, obviously catering to the more affluent residents surrounding the place. So I ordered my custom sandwich to go and when it was ready I drove out to a scenic spot to eat my first Tucson pastrami sandwich.

The result?

Meh.

Sorry, this place just didn't live up to the hype

There was a sort of blandness about the whole thing, the sandwich felt as if I was supposed to love it. I didn't love it. The meat lacked inspiration and seasoning which sucks coming from a spot that has "New York Delicatessen" on it's marquee. I've had New York deli pastrami...this wasn't New York deli pastrami. It was more like Montauk pastrami.

I don't know. That was back in 2006 so perhaps they have changed. Hate to say it, but, I haven't been back since.

Then a word came from the Kosher deli underground. In hushed tones, someone told me that a place that used to be called Feig's Deli was now the Fifth Street Deli (which is now under a new name, Eli's) and their pastrami was to die for. Great. So the next chance I got I drove out to see what all the rumors were about.

Now this joint made me feel at home. The guy behind the counter, a rather Hasidic man with the curls and everything, angrily took my order and in a huff made my sandwich. Was it because I am gentile, one with long hair and wearing a High On Fire hoodie, or was he just having a bad day? It didn't matter.

This sandwich ruled.

Thank you Fifth Street Deli, and thank you angry Hasid dude

Whew. Finally, after all this time, traveling hundreds of miles to be with my true love and leaving my city of 12 years behind, I finally grabbed onto a decent pastrami sandwich. It was perfect; simple yet elegant. No cheese (duh), but the meat was cured just right and the bread resonated with Langer's and Katz's divinity. Lovely, just lovely. Welp, I guess I found my sandwich.

Uh, nope. Because I was about to get thrown a pastrami throwback curve ball.

One night, after a screening at The Loft Cinema, a group of us converged to a bar and grill right next door. Called the Red Garter, it was a spot I had been to once before but had a hesitancy to return, mainly because the last time I was there smoking was still permitted in bars and it was a choking smog bank of cigarette pollution. Me having never smoked a cigarette in my life, I nearly died. But now that the smoking ban was in full effect, I decided to give it another go.

It was getting rather late. My buddies and I were a few drinks in. Seeing as I had only eaten lunch many hours ago, my belly was rumbling. Luckily they served food till late so I grabbed a menu and made a pleasant surprise.

The Red Garter had a pastrami sandwich.

Things are about to get real here

Now, knowing the environment I was in and how tipsy I was, my expectation of the sandwich was quite low. Still, I was curious as to how a divey type bar would handle a pastrami sandwich. So I ordered it up and when it arrived I made a very pleasant discovery.

It looked almost exactly like the sandwich from the little corner deli in Glendale! Nearly on the same roll, similar build and presentation but, most importantly, the smell. This pastrami sandwich, in one whiff, brought me back to being a curious nine year old kid, hungry for a sandwich he saw in some show on the TV and immediately became obsessed with. And after taking a bite? I knew I was home.


I almost wanted to go back into the kitchen and look for the nice smiling Vietnamese lady who always greeted me with a knowing "Pastrami?" before I confirmed her prediction and her going to work on it. Now, you may be reading this and are rolling your eyes before yawning and consoling with the local hipster pastrami elite, but for this food guy, this rolly polly writer and lover of all things pastrami, the Red Garter does it old school correctly. Sorry, but their pastrami sandwich is now my birthday treat, as my wife and I watch one of the various o.g. Star Wars movies on the back wall of our favorite bar, and it always takes me back to a more innocent and (palate wise) simpler time.

It might not be the most perfect pastrami in Tucson, but it is perfect for me thanks.

That being said, I want to thank the early Romanians for coming up with the idea and recipe for pastrami and the Kosher sorcerers that made it what it is today. Thank you all the deli kings and queens for assembling and delivering delicious sandwiches to my salivating mouth and to all the future pastrami masters yet to feed me.

Thank you pastrami. You've always been there for me...

Honorable Tucson mentions for pastrami go to: The Sausage Shop, the Sausage Deli, that one time offer at Old Chicago, Daggwoods (rip), Kappy's and Tony's Italian. You guys rock. Cheers!



Photo Archives, Scanning and Typing
"Metal" Mark Whittaker
Late January, 2016

Metal Influence:

Anthrax

"Belly of the Beast"

No real Southern inspired BBQ in Tucson you say? Forget that...Mr. Cookmans is here to the rescue!

When I first moved to Tucson over ten years ago, for some reason I thought I was relocating to a bar-be-que mecca. It's the Southwest thing I suppose; me being a Northern California kid I just had this image of steaks and ribs being turned and burned over wild fire spits, their juices running, hissing as they touch down on the coals with slathered wet rubbed skins crisping as the pit master perfectly angling them on the grill sending a quick flame up from the oak and mesquite wood smoldering below. 

Yeah, what I got was...not really that. 

Okay, I was lucky enough to find some outposts most would deem "dive bars" that know how to cook a good slab of meat, the occasional BBQ joint that served up some authentic fare but then they would go out of business and then the chain places everyone seems to like/accept that, in my humble 'que opinion, were not even close to the previously mentioned idealistic vision I had splayed in my wet and/or dry rubbed deprived mind. The seemingly one game in town, that for some reason always wins best BBQ in Tucson (which I wont mention here by name), is a constant disappointment, along with being really over priced. So what's a big BBQ fan living in the Old Pueblo supposed to do?

Because of my constant disappointment, one morning I went out and bought us a way-too-big-for-our-patio grill/smoker and we just did it ourselves. But...it wasn't the same. Our grilling was good but not like the miracles I have had in Texas or the deep south or a small place in some ramshackle strip mall just off Cienega Blvd. in Los Angeles, owned and operated by some southern transplants that brought ma and pa's secret chicken rub to the big city, a recipe that's been handed down from generation to generation. 

THAT is the kind of BBQ realness we have been craving. 

Are you ready Tucson? Because here it comes...

So when I heard about a food truck going by the name of Mr. Cookman's, claiming to offer up "real New Orleans style BBQ" I just had to find out for myself if this outfit was the actual deal. 

It didn't take long, just a bite or two mind you, for me to render this fact as law:

Yes. Yes, this is the BBQ I have been looking for. 

The ribs were coated in a sweet and zesty sauce and the meat peeled its way from the bone without even asking it to. The chicken had this smoky appeal and was seasoned with a definite southern influenced spice rub. And the sausage. Oh, the sausage had this hearty snap when you bit into it and was by far the best I have had in quite some time, probably since my travels through the south. And don't even get me started on the pulled pork sliders. Holy nards...

All I could say at that point, after much 'que carnage, was "Thank you Mr. Cookman's. You my only friend..."

Small menu, big decisions

Mr. Cookman's is owned and operated by a New Orleans, LA native Jonathan Hebert who runs the bright orange truck only on weekends since he has so much going on outside of cooking and keeping the lights on. 

"I'm actually in school right now working on a Ph.D in Business Administration," he informs as the works the line in his truck and the hungry line forming outside. "In fact, I'm actually an Electrical Engineer, which brought me to Tucson in the first place back in 2007 working for a defense company. I'm more on the management side now but I still have a passion for the technical aspects as well."

Mr Cookman's devotees lining up

With that knowledge thrown at me I had to know how it came about for him owning a food truck. 

"It's crazy", he mentions with a grin. "I was attending a conference for a fraternity in Baton Rouge and some friends and I were discussing business moves and such. I told them I saw this guy selling food out of a truck in Tucson and thought that would be a good idea. The next day we see this old grill in a field of grass, all rusty and huge, and thought it was funny because we were just talking about starting a food business. Around this time my fraternity was hosting a large block party in downtown Baton Rouge serving all kinds of food for the people. On our way to the party my friend just slams on the brakes of his car because the car in front of him, that we were following to the party, did the same. Turns out there was this old van parked in a field next to a barber shop and my friend says 'Y'all have to try this man's food'.

"There was this guy next to the van selling food plates. I bought a plate and I said to myself as I'm eating this man's food it was no coincidence that I would start selling food myself. Two weeks later I sold my first two lunch plates to some friends outside of the Tucson mall. At first I sold food out of my old Cadillac but business started to grow so I had to buy a truck. The rest is history!"

Jonathan first takes the orders then makes the orders

Now that Jonathan had the truck, he now had to come up with a name for his new and expanding business. 

"I was doing a Vlog for one of my social media sites at the time to let them know I was selling food," Hebert explains on the origin of Mr. Cookman's. "I was just saying stuff off the cuff and out came Mr. Cookman's. The name has been with me ever since and I'm always surprised at how many people address me as such when I'm out in public."

Slow cooked to perfection

Busy with school, busy with life and now busy with the truck, I asked what a typical day for him looks like.

"I'm usually up at  6am," says Jonathan lifting ribs out of the warmer. "I check emails, my calendar, social media and then I'm off. After work I usually write a few pages of dissertation for school and I'm hopefully asleep by midnight or even 1am. Food selling days, I am only focused on the business. Once I'm dressed I hit my commissary to start cooking. I load the truck and head out to the site and start setting up. 

"This is when I am in 'my space'; every problem in the world disappears when I am selling food. Time dissolves, nothing distracts me - just me, my food and my customers. I am so blessed that I always sell out."

Winner, winner

"Mr. Cookman's was not my first business," he mentions with a bit of a sly smile. "I guess you could say I've always had that "hustler" spirit since I was young. Believe it or not I have about two decades worth of selling things and I'm only 34 now. 

"In grade school and high school I always sold snacks to my fellow classmates. If I needed something I worked hard and saved to get it. In college I used my experience of selling snack foods into selling computers. Now I'm back to selling food. 

"I guess I've come full circle."  

Jonathan coming full circle with flavor

Here's the thing: outside of all the 'business' aspects, the 'hustling' and selling, Jonathan knows how to cook food. Like I said earlier, his BBQ was some of the best I have had anywhere. So he had to have gotten those skills somehow.

But how?

Smoker doing work

"I think it grew out of being in the Boy Scouts,"  Jonathan muses with a grin about what got him into cooking. "We were on a camping trip and we all cooked this simple dish, 'chicken in foil', which was seasoned chicken, with onions, wrapped in foil and cooked over hot coals. For some reason that flavor always stuck with me. I tried to do it in the oven years later but it just wasn't the same. I realized that it was the coals that gave it all the flavor. Since then I have been a fan of anything BBQ related. And I watch a lot of cooking shows."

Servin' it up to another lucky customer

It seems that Jonathan and I have a lot in common: we obsess over real BBQ and watch way too much Food Network. We chatted about some of the BBQ cook-off shows that we both love and I had to ask what makes New Orleans style BBQ its own trait and technique?

The snap and texture on these things was insane!

"To me," he says gesticulating wildly over a grill sizzling with sausages, "New Orleans style can be described the same way you describe New Orleans food in general - savory, spicy with a hint of Creole and Cajun flavor. The key to New Orleans style cooking is the use of cayenne pepper, Louisiana sugar cane, and a special blend of hardwoods which I use to for infusing smoke flavor into the meats."

Amen to that my man!

Sausage, beer and mac 'n cheese: in repose

Now flushed with knowledge of Louisiana style BBQ, I had to ask what he considers his signature dish. 

"Oh man, it's hard to pick out a signature dish," Jonathan admits as he rubs his gloved hands together. "I must say it's got to be my best seller which is the pulled pork sliders. However the ribs and fried chicken do have a cult following. Honestly I treat every dish like a signature dish. If it does not pass my taste buds," he proudly proclaims, "the public will not see it!"

Having tried all of the above, yes, it would be difficult to pin down a signature dish from this man. All of them distinct, all of them tasty and succulent in their own way. I would have a hard time picking one out. But I don't have to. 

I'm just the eater and writer here...

Handsome boy modeling school ordering it up

"Actually, I'd have to say the fried chicken, but I say this with a grain of salt!", chimes Hebert lifting a stern finger in the air when I asked what his favorite item to cook was. 

"I like the fried chicken because it's not easy to cook. You have to watch it and make sure the temperature is constantly under control. It requires the most attention and love...and I believe you call that 'soul food'." 

I just used that roll to sop up my tears of joy

With the growing population of food trucks happening here in Tucson, the competition is getting fierce. Not that Jonathan has much to worry about because his food is simply incredible and he is basically one of the only real mobile BBQ options in the area. But running a food truck is hard work and he had this to say on what drives him to do it. 

"It's the challenge," he concedes. "It's the pride of ownership but most importantly it's the ability to give more. The challenge of being a small business owner is to figure out how to be one of the small businesses that can help drive the economy and help provide opportunities to others."

Good words from a very good man. 

You can taste the joy Jonathan puts into his food

Now that he's been in Tucson for a while, and this being the Tucson Homeskillet, I had to know what Jonathan thought about the food culture here in the Old Pueblo. 

"Believe it or not," he says dishing up a pile of beans, ribs and his seven cheese mac 'n cheese for a patron, "the amount of restaurants here in Tucson is comparable to the amount of restaurants in New Orleans. I seem to find new spots every month or so. You could go somewhere new everyday and get a taste of foods from different cultures. However, I do see some voids in the marketplace and, well, some of which I plan to capitalize on in the future."

That hustler spirit will never diminish. 

Bow before rib mecca

Speaking of the future, here's what Jonathan had to say about his upcoming plans, projections and prospects in times to come. 

"I would like to get my products in high schools, universities and grocery stores," he claims. "My plans outside of cooking is to open another business that is focused on personal finance and savings. I get asked all the time: 'How do you do it? How do you open a business that makes money?' 

"My philosophy on business is a more "down to Earth" approach than anything you can read in a textbook. So it seems only right that I provide my service into those interested in learning business. Overcoming the low points is the only way to grow a business. But I have many repeat customers that swing by the truck then go home to spend time with their families. People are actually creating moments with my food!

"And that...is a definite high to me."

With that, and me on a meat and food high, all I could do at that point was thank him, thank the Boy Scouts, thank his friends for pulling over and eating mystery grub from some dude in a van and thank his ever present hustler mentality. Jonathan and Mr. Cookman's may have different plans for the future, but as far as the present is concerned, we can all appreciate his gift of BBQ right now. 

Cheers!
 

Metal Mark in his natural habitat: a food mess

Camera and Typing
"Metal" Mark Whittaker
Late Second Week of October 2015


Metal Influence

Down

"NOLA"