If you ask 10 U.P. residents who makes the best pasty (pronounced
pass-tee) in the U.P., you'll probably get 10 different answers. It might be
Jean Kay's in Marquette,
Lehto's in St. Ignace,
Colonel K's in Menominee,
Dobber's in Escanaba, Nylund's in Crystal Falls, or
Lawry's in Ishpeming. Obviously, that's a matter of opinion that could be debated and taste-tested for hours. But here we'll move on to more absolute pasty questions.
There can be no doubt, no matter whose pasties you like best, that pasty-making is an essential part of the U.P. Recipes abound for this traditional miner's lunch, and stores offering their own versions can be found in any town worthy of the designation.
It's not a large section of the Upper Peninsula economy, but it is a thriving one, and the successful pasty-making businesses say they have seen only growth since their beginnings – which often were decades ago.
Use of the Internet for online ordering, shipping and wholesaling has only meant that the market for pasties has become a national one, with the providers of these tasty, old-fashioned convenience foods largely located here in the U.P. Pasties do good business, and sharp U.P. businesspeople are finding that the quality, homegrown recipes and handmade techniques they apply to their products mean success in markets nationwide, even in tough economic times.
The stories of a few of the pasty shops in the U.P. illustrate the close link the food has to the communities in the area. One of the oldest pasty shops in the nation is Lawry's, which makes pasties from an original recipe brought to the U.P. by the family's Cornish ancestors. It had its beginnings in 1946, when current owner Peter Lawry's grandparents opened a small shop near the Blueberry Mine in Diorite, west of Ishpeming, to sell pasty lunches to miners.
"It was the first fast food. There were no McDonalds; you just would stop and get a pasty on your way to the beach or to school," Lawry says.
The shop was passed down to Lawry's father, who, after a brief closure, reopened the family store on U.S. 41 near Ishpeming. Soon a wholesale production plant followed, and Lawry's pasties were sold to distributors in Detroit and Chicago, spreading the pasty's popularity throughout the Midwest. But the plant fell victim to the energy crisis of the 1980s and eventually closed.
Peter Lawry took over the business in 1992, and now runs the Marquette location while his brother helms the Ishpeming store. He says the pasty means more than a satisfying meal to his family.
"It's a way of life, really. We grew up with it. It's hard to put into words; people come to the U.P. and have a pasty because it reminds them of home, but for us it's a way of life. My wife and I used to have a playpen in the dining room of the shop while we worked, so our kids were right there and grew up in the business," he says. Lawry has four children, three in college and one in high school, and all have worked in the shop at some point.
But while the first names of the Lawrys making the pasties have changed over the years, one thing has not: the way they make the pasties.
"We still use the same U.P. potatoes and meat suppliers. We haven't changed the recipe a bit. We really have that to thank for our longevity," Lawry says. "We still hand crimp the dough and hand weigh the ingredients and hand mix everything,"
Another leading pasty shop in the U.P. subscribes to the same "don't fix it if it ain't broke" philosophy. Dobber's Pasties owner Brad Mantela says his family has been making pasties from the same recipe since 1975, and takes great pride in it.
"We haven't changed anything. We make everything for our stores here in Escanaba, our own crusts and dough; we buy local potatoes, we hand-peel, hand-chop, hand-grind," Mantela says.
All that doesn't mean Dobber's business hasn't changed over the years, though. The shop started out under a different name: The Red Onion Pasty Shop, located in Negaunee, begun by Mantela's grandfather. His parents moved the business to Escanaba and eventually changed the name to Dobber's after finding another restaurant had trademarked the Red Onion name. Instead, they used his father, Doug's, childhood nickname, Dobber.
They have since seen steady expansion, opening a store in Iron Mountain in 1988, and adding more room to the Escanaba location. Another expansion in space came along in 1998, and by 2004 the whole kitchen had been revamped to obtain USDA certification so that Dobber's could sell pasties wholesale and at fundraisers. Most recently, in 2008, a third location was opened in Menominee, when Mantela bought the business from his parents.
"Every four to 10 years we've taken a big jump," he says. "We've had steady growth over several decades, which is pretty unusual for a lot of businesses." They now make about 10,000 pasties a week for all the stores combined.
But beyond physical expansion, pasty makers are seeing online sales and shipping boom.
Peter Lawry says their major growth in recent years has come from the Internet, with year-round shipping options. Still, like many U.P. businesses, the sales are cyclical.
"The U.P. is an interesting place to do business. It's very dependent on the seasons," Lawry says. "We have tons of orders around Christmas, as many people give them as gifts."
But wintertime sales are mostly to and from locals, or sent by locals to former residents faraway. The main tourist traffic, in contrast, arrives during the short U.P. summers.
"It's a nice mix of locals and tourists, but in July and August, it's mostly tourists, or people coming back to the area who have moved away," Lawry says.
Mantela has found similar trends, although Dobber's biggest customer base is still from their retail locations, and the sales from tourists literally double the retail business in the summers.
Online ordering and shipping makes up about 10 percent of the business for Dobber's, and about 25 percent for Lawry's. Other pasty shops in the U.P., like The Pasty Oven in Quinnesec and Joe's Pasty Shop in Ironwood, also do online business, shipping all over the country.
As Mantela flips through his weekly shipping order sheets, it's clear that getting a good picture of where the pasties go might be difficult.
"Today I'm sending a package overnight to Mississippi, last week I sent four to Texas," Mantela says. "They go everywhere, even Hawaii. I'd say it's mostly regional shipping, to Illinois, Wisconsin, Ohio -- but there is a good chunk of orders that go to the South."
Shipping nationally has extended the pasty shops' reach, and helped them compete for the tastebuds of pasty lovers all over the U.S., which can be tough in a tight economy.
"We can't compete with the $1 menu or the $2 menu," Mantela says. "We're not Taco Bell or McDonalds; we do have a value menu, but it's also a quality menu. After all, it takes an hour to make a pasty."
And that's the way the U.P. likes it.
"I see it as part of the culture, part of the area," Mantela says. "I really like being part of something that is important to people and means something to the community."
Kim Hoyum is a freelance writer based in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. Her credits include contributor to Geek Girl on the Street as well as a regular writer for Marquette Monthly. Hoyum is a graduate of Northern Michigan University where she obtained a Bachelor of Arts in writing.