I’ll admit it: I like smoked meat. And nobody needs to tell me that it is not “good for me.” Still, I don’t think that every morsel of food that slides down the esophagus has to be evaluated in terms of its nutritional value. I assure you that it is possible to indulge in this delicacy—not every day, mind you—and still maintain a healthy diet. Just as it is possible to totally shun smoked meat and have a disastrous dietary regimen. True, smoked meat lovers would lose a nutritional debate to the bean sprout and brown rice warriors. But can the delight of biting into a well-stacked smoked meat sandwich be matched by slurping miso soup or chomping on tofu burgers? Not as far as I’m concerned.
Montreal is the smoked meat capital of the world. Period. I would venture to say, though, that most natives have no idea about how this famous product is made. It all starts with beef bellies from Alberta, which, in local lingo, we call briskets. The process of converting these to smoked meat begins by treating the briskets with “Chile saltpeter.” And here a little history lesson is appropriate.
Perhaps the oldest of all food preservation techniques is “salting.” Our ancestors discovered that treating meat liberally with salt slowed down the putrefaction process. Salt serves as a “dehydrating” agent, sucking water out of bacteria, and destroying them. But over the years it became apparent that some forms of salt resulted in a better product in terms of keeping qualities, color, and taste!
The reason was a natural contaminant of sodium chloride, namely sodium nitrate, or “saltpeter.” Today we understand how it works. Microbes in the meat convert nitrate to nitrite. This species is a very effective antibacterial agent, especially against the potentially deadly Clostridium botulinum bacterium. It also reacts with myoglobin, a compound found in muscle tissue, to produce the appealing pink color of nitrosyl myoglobin. And, last but not least, sodium nitrite adds a characteristic “cured” flavor to the meat. Unfortunately, it also adds a health concern. Nitrites can lead to the formation of nitrosamines, which in animals have been shown to be carcinogenic. But more about that later.
The nitrate, which eventually yields nitrite, is dissolved in water and is injected into the meat by means of a specialized machine. Then comes the critical step in terms of flavor. The surface of the meat is rubbed with a blend of “secret” spices. There is salt in the mix, of course. In the old days it used to come in large grains called “corns,” hence the expression “corned beef.” Coriander, black pepper, chili powder, and bay leaves also add their flavor. Then there is freshly ground garlic! Not only is it an essential contributor to flavor, but also the sulfur compounds it contains have been shown to reduce nitrosamine formation. Finally the meat is packed into barrels, then cured in a fridge for two weeks.
Now for the all-important smoking process—except that it isn’t really “smoking.” In the old days, meat used to be hung in a smokehouse, exposed to all the compounds generated by burning wood. This cooked the meat, added flavor, and also served to preserve the meat. Chemicals in smoke, such as formaldehyde, are highly toxic to bacteria. That, of course, is why formaldehyde is used to preserve tissue specimens in the laboratory. Unfortunately, wood smoke also contains a number of compounds that are known to be carcinogens. So how can we smoke meat without worrying about these substances? The truth is that today there isn’t all that much worry about the wood smoke because “smoking” is commonly done in a gas-fired oven, where the meat cooks by convection and the only smoke it is exposed to is generated by the fat that drips down from the meat and burns. This smoking process is still not free of concerns, since the high temperatures generate “heterocyclic aromatic amines,” which are carcinogenic. But there may be a way around this problem, too. Just wait! Some commercial “smoked meats” are not smoked at all, but are injected with smoke flavoring. The less said about these, the better.
After about four hours in the oven, and once the meat has reached an internal temperature of 185°C (365°F), it is removed and sprayed with cold water to stop the cooking process. At this point, it is either vacuum packed, or placed in a refrigerator. Prior to eating, the meat has to be steamed for about an hour and a half to restore the water that has been lost during the smoking process. Then it is ready to be cut. And that is a job that requires special training. In Montreal, a “smoked meat cutter” is a highly respected professional, trained to cut against the grain of the meat to produce perfect slices.
Those slices may be perfect visually, but not nutritionally. There’s the nagging matter of those nitrosamines, which can disrupt our DNA molecules and initiate nasty processes—perhaps even cancer. But studies have shown that chemicals in tomato juice, such as coumaric or chlorogenic acids, can inhibit this reaction. Research has also shown that vitamin C prevents the reaction of nitrites with amines in the food, or indeed in our bodies, to form nitrosamines. Therefore, an appetizer of tomato juice is great, and orange juice would seem to be the best beverage to accompany a smoked meat sandwich. Purists will surely rebel, claiming that anything other than a black cherry drink is sacrilegious.
Now, what about those heterocyclic aromatics that are byproducts of the cooking process? These form in cooked meat in amounts proportional to the temperature and cooking time. But you know what? Tea contains polyphenols, which have been shown to reduce the mutagenicity of these heterocyclics. Similar compounds are also found in apples. So why not cap off the meal with tea and an apple?
I guess you’ve gathered by now that there is a moral in here somewhere. Individual foods should not be vilified or sanctified. It is the combination of substances that we put into our mouth that determines our nutritional status. Indeed, smoked meat may not be the most nutritious food. But the nutritional concerns associated with it can be greatly reduced if it is harmonized with other foods and beverages. Unfortunately, pickles and French fries are not the most harmonious accompaniments. Not scientifically speaking, anyway. And please, New Yorkers, spare me the mail about the wonders of your pastrami and corned beef. I’ve had both. I’ve been to the Second Avenue Deli. I’ve been to Carnegie. I’ve been to the Stage. They may pile the meat sky high, and it isn’t bad, but it isn’t “smoked meat.”