ferruci

At Ferrucci’s Old Tyme Italian Market, Brooklyn-born owners transport their customers to a Mulberry Street-esque meat and sandwich shop with traditional Italian spices, meals, and of course, black and white diamond tiling to boot. The quality of food at Ferrucci’s is unlike most delicatessens I’ve ventured to here in the South. Fresh homemade ingredients perfect for cooking sit aside fully prepared meals like lasagna, eggplant parmesan, and sausage with peppers to make for an easy grab and go dinner. Despite the unfortunate actuality that is my lack of cooking with Ferrucci’s-bought ingredients, I have had no trouble spending money there throughout my three years in Davidson.

The first time I went to Ferrucci’s the tiny bell attached to the top of the translucently boring door rang as I was greeted by a friendly downpour of New York accents alongside an appetizing breath of meat and Italian spices. My brother Robert had insisted we make a trip there while he visited me during my first semester in college. Robert, a Davidson alum, frequented Ferrucci’s so much so that the owners remembered him by name two years after he graduated, that day we walked in together. Inside the shop we ran into a few of Rob’s fellow fraternity brothers who collectively must account for some wild percentage of Ferrucci’s income (Davidson meal plan what? No). After waiting in line for a bit, I grew anxiously overwhelmed at all my sandwich options: Grilled Panini? Hot Hero with Meatball Parmesan? Basil Pesto Chicken Salad Sandwich? It all sounded so good! I still feel this rush of menu uncertainty every time I look up at my sandwich options there, even after my countless visits to date. Instead of choosing, I just ordered what my brother got, The Italian. Filled with the guidoest of all Italian meats (Genoa Salami, Ham, and Pepperoncini), the Italian is the ultimate cold-cut sandwich, served on a fresh ciabatta roll and layered with crunchy vegetables. If you haven’t figured this out yet, the above picture is the Italian from Ferrucci’s, yet that photo was taken two weeks ago when I made my voyage back to Ferrucci’s after a long ten months apart.

As if this little Italian market couldn’t get any better, as my brother and I walked towards the cashier (usually Tony, the owner), I spotted the trophy of the entire shop, homemade cannolis. Yup that’s right, freshly fried pastry dough enclosing a sweet ricotta cream, my Little Italy favorite. And they even had mini ones! I realized then and there that I’d found an eating abode to shelter me through the rest of my Davidson experience. It hasn’t failed yet.

The Vegetale