There’s a smell. I’d bet nobody knows what it is exactly or where it comes from. But traditional Italian delicatessens – those with on-premise kitchens – have it and nobody else does. So I guess you could say it’s one of those fundamental smells. Like lemon is a fundamental smell and oregano is a unique smell. Italian delicatessen is a unique, signature smell. Just like Molinari’s in San Francisco and the Lakeshore delicatessen of my youth, Genova delicatessen in Walnut Creek hits you with that smell the second you walk in. If I could buy that smell as a car air freshener, I would. Can you imagine an Italian delicatessen scented laundry detergent? Or perfume? That would really be something.
“There’s something about her, I don’t know what it is, but it makes me crave mortadella.”
That smell hit me the second I walked into Genova’s in Walnut Creek and it immediately transported me back to my youth. Smell does that, as you know. Scientists believe that smell and memory are so closely linked because the anatomy of the brain allows olfactory signals get to the limbic system quickly. Experts say the memories associated with smells tend to be older and thought about less often, meaning the recollection is very vivid when it happens. So walking through the door at Genova’s, for me, was like stepping back 40 years into the past. A form of time travel.
When I was a pup, I’d go to Lakeshore Delicatessen with my dad and, of course, he knew the guys behind the counter – or seemed to. And they would shout at each other and motion with their hands, as Italians do. When I was really young, I wondered if they were mad at each other. But he loved every second of it. The old-world experience of it as much as the food. But oh, the food. The food was (kisses fingertips).
We used to go to Genova’s in Oakland, too. Same EXACT smell. Some have said that this particular Italian deli smell is made up of garlic, tomatoes, baking bread, hot oil, and hot cheese (hot cheese? I’m not aware of that particular scent). I asked the woman who jumped ahead of me in line (I didn’t want to make a fuss) what she thought the smell came from and she ventured it was onions and garlic. Then, realizing that probably didn’t cover it, she blurted, “Joy. Pure joy.” And that’ kind of settled it for me. Yeah, it’s joy. Let’s go with that.
The visual language of Italian delicatessens
Another unique aspect of traditional Italian delicatessens is the visual language they employ. It’s a look that says, “Fuck, I don’t know. Let’s just put everything up.” Molinari’s in San Francisco does this. Rubino’s in Rochester, NY has a slightly more curated, yet still overly-busy version of it. This Genova’s in Walnut Creek has absolutely nailed this “don’t know, don’t care,” motif.
In the front window alone (see image at top), you’ll find tins of olive oil, random food photography, wine brand signs, an “Art of Italian Cooking” poster, a row of hanging salami and prosciutto, an old dilapidated poster of an old dilapidated building in Italy, several empty boxes of brie, posters promoting Genova ravioli, and a weird, wooden toy that was a horsedrawn cart perched atop a pile of…well, everything else. Because, you know, fuck it, right? Everything has been there for so many decades that the sun has drained all of the colors out. It projects a sort of sad, neglected feeling which, now that I think of it, kind of reminds me of my Italian Nonna. Maybe this is exactly what you want people to feel just before trying to sell them Italian food. Maybe that’s the vibe.
Traditional Italian culinary delights
The original notion of the delicatessen concept is that it is supposed to serve gastronomical delicacies you can’t get anywhere else. A gleaming temple to specialty foods. In the 1950s, grocery outlets started to encroach on the deli’s territory, opening their own deli counters. So delicatessens were forced to up their game to remain differentiated. Some did, but many died.
Started in 1926 in Oakland (51st and Telegraph) by Italian immigrants Lorenzo Balbi and Pietro Pira, Genova Delicatessen has ALWAYS served uniquely Italian foods that you can’t get anywhere else. Old world cuisine. The way it’s supposed to be. Sure, the dried pasta they sell is the same as you can get at (gag) Safeway, but the deli cases are packed with house-made yum that is one of a kind. Zucchini and artichoke tortas like Noanna used to make, ravioli, marinara, pesto sauce, fresh gnocchi, salads galore, I could go on.
Overstuffed sandwiches on super fresh bread
There are no sandwich specials at this Walnut Creek Genova’s (I’ll bet they’d say it’s all special). You just pick the meat and they build a sandwich that contains that particular meat. In other words, they’re all pretty much the same: A big pile of meat, shredded lettuce, cheese, chopped red onion, chopped scallions, pepperoncini, tomato, yellow mustard and mayo. You can, of course, direct them to withhold certain ingredients or dictate your own sandwich build.
Genova’s sandwich board is a mess. It starts by listing the various meats but then breaks into the bread and condiment lists without telling you that’s what they’re doing. It’s just one long list of things that happen to be edible and available. Somewhere in the middle of all of that, they randomly tell you the price for half a sandwich. But then salads, side dishes and hot foods all have their own headers. Why not do that for bread and condiments? WHY!!!?
The sandwiches themselves are tasty, filling and highly affordable. They all go for about $9-$13 and they DO NOT shortchange you on the meat. I got imported prosciutto and it was a mighty big pile of swine, I’ll tell you that. The strong, sharp flavors of chopped red onion, scallions, mustard and pepperoncini paired nicely with the fatty, smokey flavors of the pork. The tomato, provolone and lettuce rounded it out well. Kerri (my wife) got the much lighter caprese sandwich, which came on a soft, delicious herbed roll that she later raved about.
Retail strategy
I wanted to call out the location because I’d just had a lovely conversation over beers with D.G. Cafe’s owner, Clive Nisse the other night. We spoke about the merits of operating in downtown San Anselmo Vs. a strip mall. D.G. Cafe is a MUCH classier place on San Anselmo Ave than it would have been in a strip mall (and it’s good too, you should try it). That said, you have to appreciate the naturally high traffic patterns that a strip mall offers.
Genova’s in Oakland, Napa and Walnut Creek are all in strip malls. This Walnut Creek spot benefits from the constant business of the giant CVS, PNC Bank, and an always-bustling Philz Coffee within a few dozen steps As much as strip malls make me want to barf, it’s hard to argue with the traffic patterns, multiple signage opportunities and high visibility.
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“The trouble with eating Italian food is that five or six days later you're hungry again.”
- George Miller