Ann Arbor Food Culture

The unofficial state dessert appears everywhere from roadside diners to James Beard-nominated restaurants. The best versions use tart Montmorency cherries that turn electric red when baked, their juices thickening into a jammy consistency between layers of flaky, buttery crust.

This could fairly be called the sandwich that put Ann Arbor on the national food map. House-cured pastrami, still warm from the smoker, piled high on Jewish rye that's been slathered with butter and grilled until the edges turn amber. The sauerkraut is made in-house and maintains a crunch that cuts through the fatty meat, while the Russian dressing adds a sweet-tangy note.

The parking lot behind MD Mart on North University transforms at night when Seoul Street Food parks their truck. Their corn dogs use rice flour batter that fries up lighter than traditional versions, creating a shell that shatters between your teeth to reveal a hot dog wrapped in stretchy mozzarella. The sugar-dusted exterior gives way to savory, cheesy, meaty layers.

Only at Blimpy Burger on Packard Street, where they've been smashing beef into cast iron since 1953. The cherry burger adds a spoonful of local cherry jam to the patty in the final seconds of cooking - the sugar caramelizes against the hot metal, creating a sweet-savory crust. Order it with grilled onions and blue cheese.

Bløm Meadworks on Fourth Avenue ages their mead in bourbon barrels, creating layers of flavor that move from honey-sweet to vanilla to a dry, almost wine-like finish. The texture is silky, coating your tongue like liquid gold. Tasting flight lets you sample four varieties.

Polish filled doughnuts that reach their annual peak on Fat Tuesday. New Martha Washington Bakery on Packard makes them with a potato dough that's fried until the exterior blisters into tiny bubbles. The prune filling tastes like concentrated fruit leathers, while the raspberry version has seeds that pop between your teeth.

German-Russian meat pies that survive in the kitchens of old-school bars. They're pockets of slightly sweet dough wrapped around seasoned ground beef and cabbage, baked until the bottoms turn golden and crispy.

Made fresh at the Saturday farmers' market by a farmer who swears the secret is using cherries that are just underripe. The salsa combines tart cherries with jalapeños, cilantro, and lime - the fruit's natural pectin gives it a jammy consistency that clings to tortilla chips. Sold in mason jars, lasts two weeks refrigerated.

Jerusalem Garden on Fifth Avenue serves chicken that's been marinated in yogurt and spices for 24 hours before hitting the vertical rotisserie. The meat shaves off in crispy-edged ribbons, layered with tahini that's nutty and slightly bitter. Wrapped in house-made pita that's blistered from the gas flame.

Blank Slate Creamery on Ashley Street uses milk from a farm near Saline. The soft serve has a tang that recalls cheesecake, with a density that coats your spoon. Flavors rotate but the honey-lavender is exceptional - the lavender tastes like your grandmother's soap in the best possible way.