Salumi in Seattle

Eat-in , take-out, mail order. It's all good. Really good.

A recent trip to the West Coast included a stop at this tiny boîte of a spot, Salumi. For once, wild expectations are met, then exceeded.

The first sign that you've arrived is the line snaking out the door. Instantly, you notice the lack of grumbling among the regulars. Could this be a sign that those in the know understand it is worth the wait? One can hope.

After all, these are the folks who brought us the "adopt a prosciutto" holiday campaign (offer expired.) The same who make foodies swoon over meatballs and more.

Once the line has moved a bit (and it does) one will often find a plate passed down the line with samples to taste. Certainly, this helps take the edge off the hunger. Then you notice how small the place is; tiny, really. The menu begins to pull you in and you hardly have time to ruminate on how long it might take to get a seat. There's a communal table in the back as well as a handful of deuces.

Photos from the old country and a small hanging room keep you amused while you wait. On a recent visit, "Zagat's Top Italian" guides were given away to customers. Between the teasing, the treats, the photos, one really feels included in a family meal, albeit a large, boisterous family. This really is a family operation and it shows in all the best ways.

Who doesn't like to mull over a menu, contemplating each dish before making a selection? With a hand-written menu board and a cleverly windowed cooler room for counter staff doing takeaway lunches, there's plenty to ponder. At their busiest, they cannot accommodate retail sales of sliced salumi, so avoid lunch if you simply want to stock up.

Here's a tip*: just a block or two away is a wonderful park with tables, chairs, benches, a 22 foot waterfall over granite boulders, and Japanese garden. It was designed by Watertown, MA architects and dedicated to the founder of UPS, Jim Casey. It sits on the spot of his first location. Perfect for a picnic.

Eating lunch at table, it turns out, is not so hard to do, even during the busy times. The banter between staff and regulars is reminiscent of a New York deli – a little coarse, perhaps, but anchored in respect and affection. Sample lunch items:

Finocchiona (fennel, touch of curry) sandwich with house-made mozzarella; peppers and onions (mild, slightly pickled mix) bread slathered with a garlic-oil was divine.
Leonetta's meatballs (to die for) made from a family recipe.

Mr. Batali himself was holding court at the communal table. A hasty introduction as he zipped by to offer compliments, garnered a mild scolding (for not introducing ourselves before we paid!) and then an offer to tour his facility with his friends from the big table.

Imagine a candy lover being offered a tour by Willy Wonka. The chance to meet the artisan himself, see his wall of culatello, his guanciale, was like finding the golden wrapper. To inhale the perfume of these curing rooms: heaven. The curing room door was opened just to provide a whiff ... the guests were swooning in clouds of umami.

Going back for one more lungful of it like freshmen at their first dorm party chasing after - well, you know. Let's just say the salumi is just as intoxicating. And afterwards: no munchies.

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