Simplicity, quality and culinary wit are all it takes to make a really delicious sandwich. This sounds painless enough. How difficult can lunch really be? Unfortunately, few places in Reno have learned how to combine these three characteristics into extraordinary sandwiches. Paolo’s Italian Deli, however, is a master of this art.
Nestled between a bar for aging golfers (The Masters) and a Japanese restaurant (Kyoto’s), it’s easy to overlook Paolo’s. But with a menu of 21 flawless sandwiches, it will be difficult to forget once you’ve found it.
The system for ordering is quick and efficient, even when dealing with the lunchtime crowd. And when asking what mortadella, edam, capocolla and sopressata are, the employees are always happy to smile and answer simply, with no pretensions that might make you feel stupid.
When you’ve accomplished the difficult decision of choosing a sandwich and maybe some pasta salad, you can sit down and relax. They’ll bring your food to you.
The decor is fresh, casual and modestly European. The current owners, 20-something siblings Frank, Tim and Matilde Magee, are responsible for all the remodeling. They are the fourth group of owners since Paolo’s has opened.
The walls are yellow with patterned green brush strokes and the ceilings are an unexpected dark purple. Black and white posters of Italy hang on the walls and shelves are garnished with imported specialty foods you can buy, like polenta, espresso, biscotti, olives and tuna. The terra cotta-colored tiles on the floor tempt me to slip my sandals off in the hot summer to cool my feet. The chairs and tables are just like the charming wooden patio furniture you might find in a balcony apartment on the Italian Riviera.
But when it comes to the personalities behind the food, Paolo’s feels less overtly Italian. If you expect the owners to have thick Brooklyn accents, to look like the Mario Brothers or have connections to the mafia, you’ll be disappointed. No matter. The food will leave you thoroughly satisfied.
Though the menu consists mostly of your basic meat-and-cheese types of sandwiches, I lean toward the exotic. During months of repeated visits, I ordered nothing but my favorite sandwich, the No. 15—provolone, roasted eggplant and red peppers.
I felt a little guilty when I finally abandoned this verifiably tasty sandwich in order to broaden my dining horizons. But I was glad when I did. There is not a single sandwich, from about the 10 I have tried, that does not leave me wondering how they make them so darn good. One of my recent favorites is the chicken salad with walnuts, apples and curry.
Most of the sandwiches come on paninni rolls, or you can request a plain, pesto or tomato focaccia, all made in the deli. I go for the pesto. It’s refreshing to see the absence of sloppy flavor-drowning mayonnaise and the use of bright green leafy lettuce rather than the crappy iceberg kind.
When you’re done with your sandwich, it would be a crime not to try the tiramisu, which is silky, moist and dissolve-on-your-tongue good. Be careful not to inhale the cocoa powder dusted over the top, like I did the first time.
If you are still in the mood for Italian cuisine by the time dinner rolls around, you can always go back to Paolo’s after 5:30 p.m. and get some lasagna, eggplant parmesan or ravioli.