Pioneer Square, the original Seattle downtown, was nearly empty late in the morning one recent weekday. The young woman looking for the Bakery quickly rushed away, giving us the impression that getting the location of the Bakery was important.
We couldn't hear the answer she may have received from another visitor to the Square, so we were left without an answer as to the significance of the Bakery's address.
If only we had known.
Our two-day visit to Seattle had one objective--food. Or, to be more specific, the purchase of gourmet food provisions.
Yesterday we told you about our foray to the Pike Place Market. Our last trip to Seattle had been a three-day stopover on our way home from Alaska, and since we were flying, I wasn’t able to shop as I wanted. So, yesterday I was able to assuage five years of pent-up foodie frustration. Today we again boarded the ferry with our destination Pioneer Square. Or to be more specific, Salumi.
Nearing Salumi, we passed through a somewhat "artistic" neighborhood, before sighting this sign on the corner.
We suspect--but aren’t sure--that the woman seen here (through the glare in the window) is Mrs. Batali (wife of Armandino and Mario’s mother), and the relationship of the two young girls to the family is anyone’s guess.
At 11:00 the doors open and the mayhem began. To your right as you enter the doors is a ten foot long counter behind which stood six women ready to take your sandwich order. (The menu’s emphasis is on sandwiches, but there are meat and cheese plates and, on that day, gnocchi.)
If you are there to purchase cured meat products there is a sign advising you that, during the lunch rush, the meat slicer is reserved for sandwich preparation. As an alternative, on the top of the counter are containers of sliced salamis and pre-cut and wrapped sticks of salami.
So there I am, trying to place my lunch order, while frantically searching through the salami stick basket for my take home purchases. Let me tell you--it’s not easy being a foodie. My sandwich choice was the Salumi Muffo on a Guiseppe roll (similar to ciabatta), while Chuck chose the Margherita with prosciutto--also on the Guiseppe roll.
We were among the lucky and managed to grab one of the tables for two. My chair was up against the utility and hand washing sink, so I was constantly being jostled by staff. What is that about cleanliness and Godliness? Chuck's chair placed his head mere inches from the corner of a shelf in the hall to the kitchen. And this is not a place for lingering. Those wanting to eat in and not take out tend to look daggers at you the minute you are half-finished with your lunch.
My Muffo contained provolone cheese, cooked salami, and spicy sopressata with a tapenade-like spread with vegetables, olives, and pimento.
If you are looking for great cured meats, a stop at Salumi is a must. But I still give Andreolli in Scottsdale, AZ a slight edge in the sandwich department. So Salumi will earn a 4.5 Addie rating.
But I did purchase some salumi to take home: the Rosemarino made with rosemary and pepper; the finocchiona flavored with cracked fennel, black pepper, and a hint of curry; the salami with a touch of ginger; and the mole made with chocolate, cinnamon, and ancho and chipotle peppers.
That night I constructed my version of a salami Margherita with finocchiona and rosemarino, fresh mozzarella, and basil on the ciabatta bread bought at Three Girls Bakery in the Pike Place Market on which I had sprinkled the Olio Pomodoro bought at Sotto Voce in the Sanitary Market.
With a lifetime in the kitchen, but only two years of formal study of meat curing and cooking, Armandino has produced artisan products to a customer base of restaurant chefs, delis, and individual salami lovers.
He selected a turkey-chutney sandwich on Como bread, plus a side salad of spinach with goat feta and Skagit Valley strawberries.
Back in the 1850s, this area (Occidental Park) was part of the heart of a young and rowdy Seattle. It was also the birthplace of the Salvation Army in 1887.
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