During junior year of high school, I had lengthy discussions with my English teacher discussing, not books, but food. Each time he talked about his favorite Italian deli located in Queens, �Mama�s�, his voice would grow throaty. He would bow his head and close his eyes for an instant before opening them again and growling, �Ohhhh Mama�s, it was that good.� He could have talked for days about the fresh bread that hugged countless slices of warm and juicy roast pork beneath chunks of mozzarella, topped off with tomatoes and savory mushrooms. By the end of the year, I felt I had been to Mama�s, tasted those sandwiches and were friends with the three sisters who owned the place.
The following summer my family and I headed to New York. My main priority was a pilgrimage to Mama�s. On the last day of our trip we found ourselves boarding the no. 7 on 42nd street. As I counted off each stop my stomach began to grow giddy with excitement. Finally, I would be able to sink my teeth into those subs I had been passionately educated on. Like a star struck fan, I had pictures of the sisters torn out of an old issue of Food & Wine. Now I would meet them in person. Half an hour later, the train reached its final stop and we exited. After many wrong turns in the humid weather, we finally found ourselves in front of 46-02 104th Street.
Mama�s was a small, but clean deli with green and white plastic awnings. Customers sat on the tables outside, munching on semolina rolls stuffed with tantalizing treasures. I pulled open the door and eagerly walked in. It was just as I imagined. Two of the sisters were assembling the subs while customers waited patiently. Regulars would call out from the back, �I�ll have the usual, Irene.� A police officer noticing this was my first visit declared, �You�ll never want to go home after Mama�s subs!�
Before ordering I explained that I was from Hawaii and that it was my first time here. One of the sisters exclaimed, �Oh my, Hawaii?!� while the other, Marie called out the third sister from the kitchen. They were so flattered that we came all the way from Hawaii that they put their customers on hold to give us a tour. We sampled everything from delicately sweet cannoli to a slice of the 100-pound chunk of provolone cheese hanging from the ceiling. I was in love with the words that were spilling out of the sister�s mouth. They had such pride, and devotion to what they were creating. They asked me what it was like living in Hawaii. From what they had heard, it was an island with hula dancers and palm trees. Then I asked them about New York and all they said was �simply magical.� As we exchanged stories about our lives I felt as if I was meeting a long lost friend, although moments we were complete strangers.
We spent the entire afternoon talking about everything from cheese to surfing. But it was not only the talk that made my visit so special. Instead, it was the personalities and the optimistic perspectives of the sisters. The sandwiches we ordered were simply sublime. Before leaving, the sisters packed us an overstuffed box of biscotti and pastries and a jar of olive oil from Puglia for my English teacher.
The impact that Mama�s had on me was small but significant. I do not know if I quite understand what happened to me there, but I do know it was a lovely combination of the generosity and kindness of the sisters to complete strangers and the amazing taste of the food. Mama�s is the type of place I don�t find too often anymore. It is a fine example of genuine love and an appreciation of traditional ways of preparing food. It also gave me something intangible, many cheerful memories of meeting such beautiful people who love the life they live and the work they do. I often catch myself staring off into space with a smile when thinking about Mama�s.
I'm happy to report that my most recent visit during break was no less magical. I was welcome with open arms, and though I had not been back for nearly a year, everybody remembered me. Nothing had changed. Mama herself was sitting on the back table watching customers come and go. Irene was casually conversing with customers while constructing those famous subs with such precision and expertise. It was perfect. I ordered a roast pork sub and indulged in the hearty creation, certainly made with a good deal of passion in their bakery extension next door. The sub was everything and more. Dark and salty gravy dripped from the sub with each bite. The roast pork, warm and juicy like you could never imagine was punctuated with cloves of roasted garlic, saut�ed mushrooms and sweet red peppers. Such bliss! Halfway through the sub, Marie walks in, gravy smeared on her apron, happy grin on her face -it's difficult not to be instantly lifted to a brighter mood upon seeing her. She introduces me to the new girls working behind the bakery counter, an Argentinean girl studying abroad and another from Italy. She tells them,
"Treat this girl like family. When she's done with the sub, bring over a cappuccino and let her have anything she desires in the dessert case."
Why people are so nice, I'll never know. But I do sincerely appreciate it. Sometimes I feel so bad when people I'm not even related to treat me well - what have I done to deserve it? Such interactions and generosity makes me want to jump and dance. I just want to do something, let them know how much it all means to me. I just feel so happy. Ah, that was weak. It cannot be described - only felt. Somehow I just boil it all down to food. People who love food love people who love food.
I had a gorgeous cup of cappuccino and perhaps a little more dessert than necessary. But isn't it that little extra, that bit that caps off the perfect meal, which makes the art of eating so enjoyable?
Leo's Latticini (better known as Mama's)
46-02 104th Street
Corana, Queens, NY
(718) 898-6069
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