On the Rocket City boardwalk · Since the Flood of '49
Sandwiches stacked to Civil Defense height. A siren that means your order is up. And a counterman who has seen the worst the brine can do and is still slicing.
The Great Brine Flood of '49
At 6:14 on a Tuesday morning, the curing vats at the Fuller Acres packing plant upriver gave way. Eleven million gallons of pastrami brine, and everything that was in it, came down Canal Street at the speed of a trolley.
The Navy called it a "food event." The papers called it the Pastrami Tsunami. Manny Greer, whose sandwich cart was the only thing left standing on the boardwalk, called it opening day.
The slice slides; you drop it. Press Space, click, or tap the counter. Whatever hangs over the edge gets trimmed (Manny eats the trimmings). Land one dead-center for a Perfect and a little width back. How high can you go before the brine gets you?
Boardwalk secrets: 0 of 0
Honorary Survivor of '49. You found every secret on the boardwalk. You eat free on alternating Thursdays, in spirit. Join the siren list below and you'll be first to know if the shirts become real.
We're thinking about making a few real things. Tap what you'd actually buy. Nothing is charged; this tells us what to make.
Hungry for the real thing now? Our friends at Major Wood BBQ smoke actual brisket. No brine flood required.
We sound the siren when something's ready: the shirts, the rub, or new Pastrami Tsunami spots on the Planetary Broadcast Network.