Alidoro: A walk down memory lane (or Sullivan Street!)

My first job after college was at a small production company in SoHo. Back then, SoHo wasn't the 'outdoor mall' it is now, but an eclectic array of boutiques, artist's lofts and a few Mom and Pop stores.

One of my biggest treats (given my near poverty level salary) was to take a walk to the little Italian shop on Sullivan Street to get a sandwich. The menu was listed on the wall and you dare not deviate from the menu. A co-worker made that mistake once.... (once!) and was banned from the store. (This was well before Seinfeld's Soup Nazi). The older Italian man behind the counter may have been abrupt when serving you, but took great care in making your sandwich.

My favorite was the fresh mozzarella, sundried tomatoes and bel paese on semolina bread. After a few frequent trips to the store, he eventually warmed up to me and we would talk while he made my sandwich. He would tell me that I was way too pale to be Sicilian, that Alberto Tomba is a drunk but will once again bring home Olympic gold for Italy in Lillehammer, that I should be able to speak fluent Italian if only to show respect to my Grandmother and other Italian-related conversations. Okay, maybe it wasn't so warm and fuzzy but if I close my eyes I can still taste the sandwich.

There's the backstory... and since New York is really a small place, I now get my hair done at the salon next door to the old Italian sandwich shop. It is usually closed when I get there in the evening, but my Monday afternoon appointment made it a perfect opportunity to enjoy a bit of culinary nostalgia.

The shop is called Alidoro and it's not a well kept neighborhood secret. In fact, it never was. The old man is gone (I am hoping that he is just back in his beloved homeland enjoying retirement) and the couple behind the counter have a bit of his mannerisms.

The menu hasn't changed (not that I would dare deviate from it anyway) and on this visit I ordered the Mona Lisa: fresh mozzarella, artichokes, caponata of eggplant and bel paese on semolina.

The semolina bread is as crusty yet fresh as I remembered. The mozzarella as creamy and as smooth as ever. The artichokes were full of oily goodness and the bel paese brought all the ingredients together in perfect harmony. The caponata was a bit sweet; but if this is the worst thing about this sandwich, I'll take it. With my first bite, the memory of sandwiches past flooded back and were just as vivid as ever.