My Trip Down to that Old Market
Alright, so I kept hearing folks talk about this place, Corti Brothers. You know, the kind of place your grandpa might have shopped at, supposed to have all sorts of fancy, hard-to-find stuff. Especially the sandwiches, people rave about the sandwiches. I figured, okay, I gotta see what the fuss is about myself. Had some time last Tuesday, so I decided to just head over there.
Driving up, it doesn’t look like much from the outside. Kinda plain, old brick building. Not like these shiny new grocery stores popping up everywhere. Walked inside, and boom, it hit me. It felt… different. Packed, yeah, but not frantic. More like organized chaos. Lots of older folks, but plenty of younger people too, all poking around. Smelled like cheese and cured meat, a good smell.
My mission was clear: get one of those famous sandwiches everyone talks about. Headed towards the back where the deli counter is. Man, that counter was long, and busy. Lots of people waiting, holding little paper tickets with numbers. While I waited for my number to be called, I started wandering down the aisles near the deli.
Seriously, the stuff they have is wild.
- Olive oils I’ve never even heard of, tons of them.
- Weird canned fish from somewhere in Europe.
- Pasta in shapes I didn’t know existed.
- A whole section just for vinegars.
It wasn’t like a normal supermarket where everything’s predictable. This felt more like a treasure hunt. You could probably spend hours just looking at labels. Found myself picking up random jars and tins, just reading where they came from.
Getting the Goods
Finally, my number blinked up on the little screen. Went up to the counter. The guy working there looked like he’d been slicing prosciutto since before I was born. Didn’t say much, just kinda nodded. I asked for “the special,” figuring that was the famous one. He knew exactly what I meant. Watched him pile on meat and cheese onto this big roll of bread. It wasn’t fast, he took his time, layering everything just so. Paid for it – wasn’t cheap, mind you, but felt like you were paying for quality, I guess. Grabbed a weird-looking soda from a cooler near the checkout too, just because.
Took the sandwich outside to my car because there’s not really anywhere to sit inside. Unwrapped it. It was hefty. Took a bite. Okay. Yeah, I get it now. The bread was crusty but soft inside, the meats were super flavorful, way better than the plastic-tasting stuff you get elsewhere. It wasn’t overly complicated, just really good ingredients put together right. Simple, but damn good.
Finished the whole thing right there in the parking lot. Felt satisfied. It’s kinda cool places like this still exist, you know? Everything these days is about speed and convenience and identical chain stores. This place felt real, like it had history. Took effort to go there, navigate the crowd, wait for the sandwich. But tasting it, exploring those aisles? Yeah, it was worth the trip. Made me think about how much we miss out on sometimes, sticking to the usual spots. I’ll probably go back, maybe try exploring that wine section next time I feel like digging for treasure.
