Where’s The Beef?

It`s not often that Cam’ron and the Dipset affiliates show up to do a live performance—and smoke a ton of weed—for the soft opening of a sandwich shop. But that’s precisely what happened opening night of Bowery Beef, a new Massachusetts-style roast beef spot now open on the Bowery.

Mom-and-pop roast beef shops are as ubiquitous in Massachusetts as bodegas are in New York City, but instead of offering Goya products and expired prophylactics, they offer cheap sandwiches packed with thinly sliced rare roast beef smothered in barbeque sauce. It never caught on in New York, where, save for a Roll’n'Roaster or two and the recently opened This Little Piggy, roast beef has gotten the shaft.

New York’s been missing out. And on a block where $5 can barely get you a side of fries, a cheap sandwich shop is a welcome addition.

Bowery Beef is the brainchild of Mike Herman, Ray LeMoine and Pat Sweetra, the latter two Massachusetts natives. LeMoine and Herman met through a "mutual friend who was a drug dealer." Herman has restaurant experience: He was the Mike behind Mike’s Apartment, his apartment, which Gawker last February called "The Newest Hotspot in NY," and also has previously owned two restaurants in a place called New Jersey. LeMoine is a sometimes journalist (LeMoine and I produce TV news for the same European news network) who, at 19, started a bootleg T-shirt empire in Boston and later wrote a book about his post-Saddam travels in Iraq.

LeMoine had the idea to open the shop when he noticed the lack of roast beef spots in New York. He missed the sandwiches he used to get at Harrison’s, one of the more famous Bay State beeferies, located in North Andover, Mass. "We grew up watching the hippie drug addicts work there, and thought it was hilarious," says LeMoine. "We both eventually got hired, except I got fired on the first day."

The "we" is LeMoine and Sweetra, who worked at Harrisons off and on for 15 years. "Ray and I had talked about opening up a sandwich shop since we were in high school," Sweetra says, before adding that so far New York City has been treating him "fucking great."

As for the meat, well, the cows that died for your sandwiches did not receive massages and were not fed on a diet of organic, free-range barley. The cheese is more akin to something an old man would slice up for you at a deli than something you would buy from a Whole Foods Cheesekateer. Still, knowing the demands of the market, LeMoine says he’s open to doing a locavore version of the sandwich. "A friend from Stone Barns offered to do the $10 farm-to-table version," he says.

The restaurant, which has seating for 20, is located inside that Downtown stalwart The Bowery Poetry Club, but operates as a separate entity. There had been a string of failed cafes located in the front, and the Beef boys pounced when they saw an opportunity.

But back to the food: The place offers hot, rare roast beef, fresh off the slicer, on Sabrett buns branded with "BB" and smothered in barbecue sauce. Available toppings include cheese, Cheez Whiz, onions, horseradish, mayo and mustard. There are also pickles, loaded baked potatoes, pastries, Bosco chocolate soda and the much-heralded Blue Bottle drip coffee. New food items are being added nearly every day—including something called "Dog Shit," which is the roast beef sans bun—and the owners are hoping to eventually serve booze. The Four Seasons this ain’t, but the sandwiches are a unique offering in the city and damn tasty—not to mention messy.

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Bowery Beef 308 Bowery (at E. 1st St.),
212- 260-3300.