Do you ever find yourself on the toilet, half way through the deed, realizing it’ll be an extended affair, and without the foresight of bringing along the latest issue of Home & Garden, you end up passing the time reading the back of whatever you can reach? The last time I did that, I ended up perusing the back of my girlfriend’s tampon dispenser. What I’m getting at is Adria Deli (not Adria’s Deli, which I keep saying) is not a place where you sit down for lunch. I mean you can, obviously. They have three very small tables, pretty much an afterthought. Alone, with only my food to accompany me, I ended up glancing around the establishment checking out the various products for sale, trying to occupy my brain as I chewed. Am I all out of potato dumpling mix? I just realized I don’t have a five-liter bottle of sliced pickles. Going to make sure to pick up one of those on the way out.
Back when I started three years ago, I elected to not review Adria Deli. I had created an arbitrary list of qualifications, all of which I’ve broken in the intervening time. I’ll basically go to an opening of envelope now. Food Truck? Farmers’ Market? Free candy from the back of an unmarked van? Seems legit, I’m in. In Adria Deli’s defense, they have tables; that constitutes a restaurant…right? That being said, when I sat down to enjoy my meal, I was the only one to do so as everyone else got take-out. I also possessed the wisdom to arrive before noon, as minutes after, a line began to form in front of my table, blocking my view of the aisles. Hey, I was reading that package of… Schokoladen-Kränze?
The various unique options on the shelves were mind blowing, items that made me feel special when I first purchased them from a Dutch vendor at the Christmas Festival in Edinburgh. Adria Deli is a foodie’s wet dream, a charcuterie’s playground. I could see myself purchasing a few random items just to see what they were. But today, I was here for lunch. The special was chicken fingers, which I stopped considering as an option the same time I got on a first name basis with my proctologist. Yes, I admit being older—I give money to PBS, and chicken fingers are what children have when they are too stubborn for good food. So I opted for the second option, Bavarian meatloaf, which looks like Spam but tastes a hundred times better. I wasn’t aware ordering it equated to cutting an inch-thick slab of protein and slopping it on bun of my making. I imagine if the sandwich sucked, it would then be partially my fault. So on goes mayo, mustard, onions, and peppers. It was amazing. I wanted to buy an entire loaf and repeat that meal for the rest of the week. To accent that, I also added the daily soup, potato, leek and bacon. And it wouldn’t be a deli soup without aged saltines wrapped in plastic. I enjoyed it as well but not as much as the sandwich.
I think every deli should have tables…just a few. Just enough for me to sit down. Give me a table and I’ll review you. You don’t even need to provide distraction. Trust me, being single my entire life until recently, I can find ways to occupy myself, like being alone at parties feigning interest in nearby potted plants. All I have to keep me company at Adria Deli is a blue Vegeta displayer. I don’t even know what Vegeta is, and I’m too interested in my lunch to get up and find out. It was a good meal, and at 12$ taxes in, a good value. They didn’t even ask for a tip.
I finished my meal at 12:30 and still no one else took a table. I’m starting to feel like that dog sitting at the subway station waiting for his dead owner to return. I’m running out of packages to read from my vantage, so I eventually made my exit, regretting that I missed the last few years not frequenting Adria Deli. I’ll be back soon...
…especially since I forgot to get those pickles on the way out.
Food: 4/5
Service: --/5
Presentation: --/5
Value: 4/5 (for a deli)