A friend and former teammate from high school in New York suggested featuring pastrami. It’s a sandwich I like but rarely get and never make. I’m more inclined to pastrami’s cousin, corned beef. But pastrami was a tasty idea, and it stuck.

We went out Wednesday afternoon and hit two delis in South Tampa for pressed pastrami sandwiches on pumpernickel: Wright’s Gourmet House (est. 1963), which stretches the notion of a deli, and Schiller’s German Delicatessen (est.1952).

When I got home, it struck me: What, exactly, had I just eaten? Pastrami is a cured meat made with (usually) beef brisket, which is brined, seasoned, smoked and steamed. Despite its Italian-sounding name, pastrami originated in Romania — before refrigeration.

WRIGHT’S GOURMET HOUSE

I’ve lived in St. Pete for a very long time and worked in Tampa for extended stretches but had somehow never made the pilgrimage to Wright’s until Wednesday. The place is enormous. Two large dining rooms sit next to a massive deli area that has belted stanchions to manage lines — like TSA. I’d never seen that. At 12:30, we somehow missed those lines.

When I ordered my $14 Hot Pastrami on pumpernickel (with “mustard sauce”), the counter person asked, “Would you like to add cheese?” I took that to mean it would be an extra charge, which turned out to be a dollar. (Hey, every dollar counts.) I got Swiss, passed on a side order.

I gave her my phone number so staff could text me when my order was done. We sat at a two-top in a dining room that was nearly full and in about 10 minutes I got the ping and picked up the sandwich.

Appearance

Not pretty. Four dark-brown triangles sitting on paper. No acouterments. A dill pickle, maybe? Rye might have made for better picture.

Taste and Texture

The bread had a well-calibrated crisp on the outside, and a robust flavor. (It’d been a long while since I’d had pumpernickel.) The pastrami, sliced thin, was mildly chewy, but easy on the jaws. The Swiss, perfectly melted, oozed from the sides of the sandwich but not onto my fingers.

All told, it made for a tasty return to hot pastrami. I ate half. Another one awaited.

SCHILLER’S GERMAN DELICATESSEN

Everything Wright’s is, Schiller’s isn’t, and vice versa. Located at the corner of El Prado and Manhattan, it appears to occupy a former convenience store. The Schillers no longer own it, and this is not the original location.

Inside, the place is lined with shelves full of products, most of them German. Two young fellas — Eben, one of the owners, and Zack — were manning the shop. I talked NBA with Zack. When I find someone who can chat intelligently about the league — especially during the off-season — it’s an instant bromance (no slight to you hardcore women NBA fans; I don’t know any).

I ordered the New Yorker ($9.95), which included Swiss, coleslaw, mustard and Thousand Island dressing. Zack and I discussed Paolo Banchero’s new contract and other NBA buzz while he made the sandwich. (He actually sliced the meat, like a real deli.)

We sat at a four-top amid the shelves. I ate. Bonnie, not a fan of brined meats, did not.

Appearance

More of the same, only plainer. It became apparent that no matter how many flag-topped toothpicks or sprigs or other bibelots accompany a hot pastrami on pumpernickel, it’s still an ugly brown thing.

I asked for and was happily granted a small container of sliced dill pickle.

Taste and Texture

Fresh off the press, the sandwich was hot when Zack handed it to me. The bread was impeccably toasted. The pastrami, laid on thick — but not so much that I had to unhinge my jaws — was just as tasty and a shade easier to chew than the competition’s.

Purists might get the vapors over the thought of adding coleslaw to a hot pastrami, but I really appreciated the crunch and touch of sweetness the house-made stuff added. Somehow the Swiss cheese struggled to make itself known.

Wanting to avoid a gut bomb, I ate half. Zack packaged it up nicely for later.

And the Winner of the Hot Pastrami on Pumpernickel Competition Is …

Schiller’s German Delicatessen.

The sandwiches were about equal, although I give Schiller’s the edge due to the inclusion of coleslaw, however unorthodox.

I generally avoid discussing price in FFF, but the Wright’s sandwich costing a third more than Schiller’s’ was hard to ignore.

I admired the systematic efficiency of Wright’s, the mondo-deli’s ability to turn out a quality product quickly to such a large clientele. At Schiller’s I felt at home, even if it lacks the comforts.

One last thing: Thanks for the idea, Doug.