Don Salamone promised us a sandwich shop years ago, before the pandemic turned everything upside…read moredown, took his original site (which is now on its second restaurant) off the table, and made a reservation-only high-end supper club a better option. In 2026, he's finally made good on the original premise.
In the former home of the fiscally swanky but appropriately homey Don's Favorite Foods (where I paid more for braciole than I ever have in my life), the man has built us the house of parms he'd envisioned when Burger Stevens did its Stevens Italiano pop-ups many, many years ago.
With touches of Rochester, N.Y., sprinkled throughout the menu, Don has packed in the three holy parms (chicken sausage, sausage, eggplant) and threw in a low-country curve (shrimp) for good measure. In a move that made my eyes well up a bit, he has a chicken cutlet with lettuce, caesar dressing and grana padano (less fussy parmesan).
The cold cut sandwich isn't some rote italian combo of ham, provolone and a cured meat to be named later, but a pile of Mortadella, capicola, genoa salami, pepperoni, fresh mozzarella, lettuce and tomato... all doused in oil and vinegar. Note the lack of mayonnaise.
I've been so beaten down by the sandwich options west of the tunnels that I'm genuinely surprised when I see the little details executed well. I was wondering what they were going to do for bread with Dos Hermanos already offering their own sandwiches down the street, and Good Dough on 6th's sourdough baguettes are ranked right up there with Fleur de Lis and Little T for great Italian sandwich bread that's going to hold up to the marinara and oil and vinegar being thrown at it.
As for the sides, the fries Italiano are kind to offer calabrian-chili ranch, but should take no dip. The garlic bread is perhaps the only loaf in this state that doesn't overbutter the entire affair and drown the whole thing in garlic cloves. If you're used to your local Freddy's bakery unloading its garlic and butter overstock onto your "garlic bread," this is going to disappoint. Dip a stick of Darigold into a jar of Chef Cuisine minced garlic, twist, and eat if that's what you're going for.
I've already seen people scoff at the $4 side of "red sauce," and I'm here to tell you that's not overpricing: That's a penalty. If you're adding sauce to an already sauced item, you're just paying a premium for drowning out the intended balance with what, to you, is the appropriate amount of sauce. It's your right to ask, but it's also completely appropriate for this place to ding you for it.
Meanwhile, I love that other choices are rewarded. $4 for peppers and onions on that sausage parm? Sure. Same price for throwing broccoli rabe onto that cutlet? Absolutely.
We're finally getting a few places in town (Loyal Legion, June, the Broadway on a good day) that don't have to look up seemingly simple drinks like a Negroni or an Aperol Spritz, but it's nice to have a place in town that treats them like an adult cafe lunch option and not some feature of a premium cocktail list.
I finally have my West Side Italian sandwich shop with no mayonnaise, minimal ranch dressing, and owners who genuinely love what they do. I'd say I wish Salami Mammi the best, but I'm going to invest heavily in that outcome.
P.S. The "Sad Valley" reply to a guy who drove from Happy Valley is 1. Legitimately funny and 2. Authentically Northeast.