At Alidoro, The Proof is in the Prosciutto

In my short stint as a Jersey-boy-come-New Yorker, I’ve had everything from awful, rip-off Italian served by a human incarnation of Foghorn Leghorn (Il Corallo Trattoria), to wood-fired rustic Italian perfection (Peasant), to unforgettably honest Chinese (The Grand Sichuan), to euphoria-inducing burritos all the way from Tijuana (Pinche Taqueria).

This is all well and good, but what I have not yet had in this city, is a good-ole Italian cold-cut sandwich.

Obviously, New York, and especially the human miasma known as Midtown, is replete with hole-in-the wall lunch-hour depots, calling themselves “deli’s”, while serving the hot-lamp slop and infinite “subs” to the hungry masses, day in and day out. This troubles me. These assembly-line abominations drowned in oil and vinegar, smothered with waterlogged shredded lettuce, flimsy tomatoes, and stringy onions, are not the object of my undying affection. The Italian cold cut sandwich, however, is.

Surely in the city that has it all, I should have no problem getting my hands on a prosciutto and provolone with hot peppers on a long roll?! That isn’t asking too much is it?

I’m beginning to think it is.

Perhaps the traditional cold-cut sandwich, as I know it, is more of a Jersey thing. Throughout my food-filled childhood in Northern New Jersey, I was spoiled by the surrounding wealth of Italian sandwich shops and deli’s, each offering up stomach-popping, high-rising sandwiches, packing layer upon layer of prosciutto, salami, mortadella, and the like, stacked neatly atop thick slices of fresh mozzarella; all of which was adorned with roasted peppers, hot cherry peppers in oil, and olive tapenade; all singing in unison on a traditional soft Italian roll.

There was Gallo’s on Bloomfield Ave in Caldwell (R.I.P), Italianissimo In West Caldwell, Vince’s Family Market in Fairfield, The Pork Store in Paterson, Corrado’s in Clifton…the list goes on and on…all memorable spots…all unique unto their known…all near and dear to my heart.

So what about New York City?

Until now, my innate need for thinly-sliced salt-cured meats and cheese on bread has gone unsatisfied, save for the occasionally mediocre experience at West Village institution, Faicco’s Pork Store on Bleecker Street. Theirs (for about $8) is a cumbersome, somewhat dry sandwich that, despite packing a generous portion of meat and cheese, employs a bulky, non-porous, unforgiving semolina roll that just ruins the entire experience. If they used a better roll, they'd be on to something. And so my crucial question remains unanswered: Where do I get a return-visit-worthy cold cut sandwich in this town?

The answer is Alidoro.

This tiny, owner-operated establishment, quietly thriving on a mostly residential part of Thompson Street in northwestern SoHo, has continued to earn the same wide spread respect and adoration enjoyed by its long-time predecessor Melampo, which was notorious as much for its biting, unpleasant proprietor as its irresistibly fresh sandwiches. Now under new ownership and renamed Alidoro, new proprietor Walter Momente’ has wisely chosen to preserve Melampo’s extensive selection of over 40 sandwiches (which you order by name, not number while moving to lighten up the dour, if not entirely non-existent customer/owner relationship that thrived for so long during the Melampo years.

That said, after reading countless rave reviews, I finally had the chance to check this place out for lunch on a recent Wednesday morning. I arrived at Alidoro at 11:15 AM in heated anticipation of its 11:30 opening time. Unfortunately, after pacing for what seemed like forever, a woman emerged from the store (who probably smelled my impatience) and declared,

"He's never here at 11:30. He's never here that early."

"Who?" I thought.

For the sake of the greater good (my freakin' sandwich!), I took a seat at the lone table and chair staged in front of the store, and called a friend to kill some time. When I realized the shop had finally opened, I dropped my friend like a hot potato and quickly jolted into the store where I soon discovered that somehow, someway, there were already 7 people in front me.

Unbelievable.

Inside Alidoro, its narrow space leaves barely enough room to stand in line, a problem compounded by the mesmerizing sea of Italian paraphernalia coming at you from all angles, including anything from errant Paolo Nutini CDs, to cookbooks, to giant Ciao Professore! movie posters. It's all very charming, but how about that sandwich.

Like a relucant boy waiting to receive communion at Sunday mass, I waited and fidgeted in heavy-breathed silence for 15 minutes before finally making it to the counter. There, I soon learned that eye contact is an unnecesary component to the ordering process. Given that many have commented that thanks to Momente's newly installed regime, Alidoro is much "sunnier" place than its cranky predecessor, I can't help but wonder what Melampo must've been like. Straight lines, one-word answers, perhaps a 4-fingered salute. Who knows! Here, a more accurate description of the mood would be "hazy", or perhaps "overcast." Even so, that's quite alright. I can deal with melancholy as long as the sandwich warrants it. A great cold cut sandwich forgives a lot.

Cold-cut creeds aside, I proceeded to the order the Mischa on white (second below) which is prosciutto, provolone, hot peppers, and arugula on a fresh-baked long Italian roll. (below)

After a quick monetary exchange, a fervent "Ciao" (which actually caused the owner to raise his brow with interest - progress!), I ran out of there and found the closest bench that would suffice as a rough surface on which to rest my hard-earned sandwich.

And then I bit into this long, luscious loaf of saltiness, and all my pent up frustration disappeared. Unlike the brute of Faicco's version, this sandwich is a delicate, carefully crafted compilation of ultra-thin provolone topped with equally thin, almost transparent prosciutto, that together wear a healthy schmear of what had to be a home-made hot pepper relish, before finished off with handful of peppery arugula dressed lighty in balsamic. This sandwich was simply awesome and worthy of my ever famous 30/5 award. It required 30 minutes to obtain, and only 5 to eat.

In light of my experience with sandwiches of this kind in the past, I'm accustomed to jaw-stretching amounts of meat, cheese and condiments on these babies. That said, my only critique of Alidoro is that the sandwich, as amazingly fresh and composed as it is, could stand to use twice the amount of meat and cheese, especially at an average price of about $10. The bread can surely handle it, and we all know my stomach can.

Alidoro
105 Sullivan St., New York, NY 10012
212-334-5179

Food: A
Service: C
Ambiance: B+
In a thought: "An amazingly enjoyable sandwich, that would taste even better with a smile from Walter and company."