Signature bagels, Wagyu pastrami and more delights at Ethel’s Delicatessen in Petaluma

The street leading to the new Ethel’s Delicatessen is under construction, littered with orange cones and detour signs. Deli co-owner Clare Abrams joked that the work is to install an underground pipe to link Lagunitas Brewing Co., directly across McDowell Boulevard from the restaurant, to streamline delivery of the premium beer used to make Ethel’s signature bagels.

Unlike regular beer bread, the bagel dough isn’t infused with the brew. Rather, the bagels are boiled in it, along with organic malt syrup and water. It’s a nod to Philly-style bagels, co-owner and chief bagel chef Nicolas Abrams explained. The beer process gives the bagels a slightly malty flavor, a pillowy-chewy interior and a crisp, crackling exterior. His preference? The Lagunitas Brown Shugga strong ale, or Waldo’s IPA.

The dough is crafted with sourdough starter, meaning Ethel’s bagels are unique creations, a blend of Philly-style, the New York classic boiled-baked style and Northern California’s love affair with sourdough.

“It’s a lot of extra steps,” Nicolas told me as he tended to his twice-daily feeding of the starter. After the organic flour is added, the dough rests for 30 hours to ferment. “But we want that extra-crisp crust, and the flavor of subtle, back-of-the-mouth tang.”

Just a few years ago, the Abrams family never would have thought they would be operating a deli specializing in the yeasty noshes that originated in the Jewish communities of Poland. Nicolas has had a successful career as a chef, working with Emeryville’s Chalet Restaurant Group, Rustic Bakery in Marin and Hilltop 1892 in Novato, among others.

On a whim, he started testing bagel recipes in his home kitchen, inspired by memories of weekend gatherings at his grandparents Lew and Ethel Ritter’s house in Los Angeles.

“It was family and friends, friends of friends, all creating experiences,” he recalled. “They were Brooklyn transplants, and Grandma Ethel put out huge spreads of bagels, lox, smoked rock cod, pickled herring, schmear, rye bread and the like. She didn’t make the bagels but was very particular about where she would buy everything.”

Nicolas started selling his bagels at his daughter Freya’s school. Then COVID hit, and Nicolas and Clare were laid off from their jobs, while Freya and Oliver, the Abrams’ son, could no longer go to their school campuses.

Soon, the Abrams’ home was bustling with a bagel business. They looked for a commissary kitchen and built a website. Next up was farmers markets, and after 18 months of red tape, they opened their brick-and-mortar shop on June 2.

Now, a monochrome photo of Grandma Ethel looks over the 16-chair seating area and the deli case packed with bagels — a tempting assortment of sesame seed, garlic, crunchy sea salt, everything mix, cinnamon raisin and signature varieties like Parmesan-black pepper, plus a perfect pumpernickel studded with fragrant caraway seeds ($3 each, $17 for six, $33 for 13).

The sleek, 2,300-square-foot space doesn’t waste room on decor. Much of the area is dedicated to kitchen counters, the bagel-boiling kettle and metal racks to roll into the walk-in oven that lifts the trays up and rotates them for even baking.

In one corner sits a wonder, an AM Manufacturing Co. bagel machine that sucks in dough from a hopper, chops it and feeds it to a conveyor belt that pushes it into a tunnel to form a doughnut shape, then pops it out at the rate of 2,000 bagels an hour.

“It would take a lot of manpower to do it all by hand,” Nicolas said.

The whole family helps out, hand mixing Sierra Nevada cream cheese with goodies like chives ($5.50, includes a toasted bagel or bread), wild smoked lox ($6.50), pickled shallot and herbs ($6) and an intriguing tart mix of black garlic and sherry ($6). Oliver works the farmers markets, manages the website and said, “I’m a business student, and this has been the best learning experience ever.” Clare and Freya handle endless other tasks.

The short but satisfying menu covers my craveable favorites. The bestseller is the Tribeca breakfast sandwich ($15), served on a bagel or the deli’s own rye (you also can get a full round of bread to go for $7, or a loaf for $13), or challah (rolls $3 each, loaf $13).

“The traditional breakfast sandwich is bacon, egg and cheddar, but we wanted to put our California touch on it,” Nicolas said. So this mouthwatering model includes slabs of wonderfully juicy, acidic organic heirloom tomato with the scrambled egg, thick-cut bacon, sharp cheddar cheese and homemade garlic aioli.

“A couple times, people said they didn’t want the tomato and we made a mistake and put it in, and they said, ‘oh, it’s so good!’” Nicolas said.

There is also the Classic, in honor of Grandma Ethel, piled with smoked salmon, shaved red onion, capers, dill fronds and lemon (closed $16, open-face $18). Grandma Ethel probably never thought of the avocado toast trend, though — this one is a good one, the smashed fruit scattered with pickled shallots, microgreens and the deli’s homemade everything mix (closed $12, open-face $14).

And who doesn’t love a simple deli platter salad ($12)? The one here beckons with big scoops of egg salad (extra $1), pole-caught tuna salad (extra $3), chicken salad (extra $3) or my choice, all three (extra $5), atop organic mixed baby lettuces, cherry tomatoes and avocado dressed in champagne vinaigrette. You also can get each savory scoop as a sandwich, or a melt.

Yet my indulgence has to be the Reuben ($21). It’s a big beast, as Jewish deli sandwiches should be, and the sourdough rye is overstuffed with tender smoked American Wagyu pastrami, housemade sauerkraut, Swiss and “secret sauce.” Add a side of housemade pickles or pickled veggies ($3), and life is grand.

On my way out, I snagged a few rugelach, treating myself later with the apricot-walnut and sea-salt-chocolate flavors ($2.50 each).

Yet as I walked toward the door, I stopped and asked Nicolas, “Whose bagels are better? Yours or the ones you enjoyed with Grandma Ethel?”

He paused, then replied. “My memory of the bagels ... it was more about community and family. … I don’t know if they were the best.”

Oliver laughed. “You can’t say that, she’s right there!” he said, pointing to her portrait on the wall.

Carey Sweet is a Sebastopol-based food and restaurant writer. Read her restaurant reviews every other week in Sonoma Life. Contact her at carey@careysweet.com.