Giovedì Mezza Giornata
I gaze at the deli counter as my carb-heavy lunch is in the works, marveling at the synergy between the staff behind it.
I stumbled upon the 4th generational Neapolitan dynasty Salumeria Malinconico on Instagram nearly a year ago. Maybe it was seeing photos of the mouth-watering, perfectly circular focaccia with brighter-than-life red tomatoes garnished with fresh basil that enticed me or their nearly 10k social following. Or it was the logo-printed sweatshirts and baseball caps that hang from ceiling-pinned clothing lines that dangle over an eight-foot-long freezer that takes over the entire floor space that turns into make-shift tables for intimate dinner parties hosted after-hours that intrigued me even more.
And after too many failed attempts at stopping by for much-needed indulgence this past summer, I finally climbed from the Spanish Quarters and weaved along Corso Vittorio Emanuele until I landed in front of this historic shop one warm October morning. I swung open the door and let the aromas of Neapolitan cuisine and the noises of the Neapolitan language guide me inside.
C'è una ragazza che viene da Philadelphia in cucina (there is a girl in the back of the kitchen that’s from Philadelphia), the owner Alessio greets me. First with a ciao, piacere, come stai? (hey, nice to meet you, how are you) inevitably in a polite fashion, and then telling me there is another girl, just like me, by the name of Stephanie, living in Naples, from Philadelphia. I couldn’t believe it, but in some way or another, it was true, this city is a small world, after all, and I knew the salumeria would forever be something special to me. There is a piece of familiarity combined with a bit of home. And if I want to go deeper, there would be a piece of indulgence combined with liberation and freedom after my nearly 10-year complex relationship with food.
The three of us chat, but somehow the conversation always returns to this: ma Gabri, hai fame? (Are you hungry?). It’s 11:35 am, and my empty, growling stomach answers for me, but I still nod and clasp my hands behind my back, one of my anxious twitches, waiting to see what the two of them will plate and put in front of me. I gaze at the deli counter as my carb-heavy lunch is in the works, marveling at the synergy between the staff behind it, passing blocks of cheeses and balls of juicy mozzarella to the left and freshly sliced meats to the right, followed by a few sandwich rolls slammed down and cleanly cut open within a blink of an eye. I am first in line, but before I know it, the back room is filled with more people than I can count on my fingers.
When it is ready, I follow them, passing through the shelves lined with dry ingredients like every name brand of pasta down to bags of chips and pringles. I sit myself down at the only table that is between shelves of bottles of wine and the store’s glass window. There is a slice of Amelia’s famous focaccia (Alessio’s mother) and a beautifully prepared panino (sandwich) stuffed with meats and cheeses I can hardly pronounce that appears to me to be a work of art, almost too beautiful to eat. I sit in silence, savoring each bit and the rays of sunlight that reflect off the glass and hit my face, and a straight view of towering Vesuvius that always seems to follow and watch me wherever I go somewhere in the distance.
There are few moments in my life where I feel nearly 99% at peace, as this is one of them. It feels like I am floating on cloud nine, and I never want to come down, but the moment ends as I struggle to take my last bite, sling my jacket over my shoulders, and find the willpower to stand up. I hug my new Philly friend Steph goodbye and thank Alessio smiling ear to ear, pleading to them that this was the best sandwich of my entire life.
And in my head, I thought nothing could ever top that moment, that meal, and now a beautiful memory until I was seated back in Malinconico’s shop, not by myself but surrounded by a group of strangers less than 48 hours later. Still, that evening deserves a separate story, so more on that later.
Where:
Antica Salumeria Malinconico dal 1890
C.so Vittorio Emanuele, 453, 80135 Napoli NA
@salumeria_malinconico
To order:
Anything and everything
Thank you’s:
Alessio + Fabiana, Steph, and staff for always making me feel welcome
♥️♥️♥️