近距离内射合集

Fun fact: Albuquerque once had a Little Italy neighborhood.

It鈥檚 true. You can look it up.

It arose in the 1880s, when Italian immigrants began arriving in the city after the completion of the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe Railway. The newcomers quickly set up grocery stores, delis and mercantile shops along several blocks of Central Downtown, and voil脿. Or should I say, 鈥渆cco!鈥� There was a little piece of Italy right smack in the middle of the American Southwest.

The dining scene spawned there never really died; it just got dispersed. Today, Italian delis, diners and restaurants offer a mix of new arrivals and well-established institutions from Rio Rancho to the South Valley and from the Far Northeast Heights to the Petroglyphs.

The old guard is perhaps best represented by Tully鈥檚 Italian Deli & Meats on San Mateo Boulevard south of Interstate 40. With its shelves holding pasta, olive oil and tomato sauce, freezers and fridges stocked with Italian dinners, cheeses and meats, it seems transplanted from some city in the Northeast.

No surprise, then, that the place was founded by Staten Island natives John and Jerri Camuglia. The Camuglias launched Tully鈥檚 in 1970 as a meat market, and son Johnny expanded it over the years to include sub sandwiches and pastries.

Even at the ripe old age of 56, the deli bustles with activity. During a recent lunch hour, a line of customers snaked back from the register to the door.

An air of familiarity suffused the space. Upon finishing his meal, a man stood, tugged on his belt and bellowed toward the counter, 鈥渆xcellent, as always!鈥� Customers greeted a server by his first name as he circled the dining room handing out complimentary cookies. My cookie was shaped and frosted to look like a pair of sunglasses. The frosting stayed firm while the cookie underneath it melted in my mouth.

The cookies are a nice touch, but it鈥檚 the subs that are the big draw here. Tully鈥檚 offers a dizzying array of them, with prices ranging from $8.49 for a half sub to $16.99 for the full size. Each comes with chips or potato salad. There鈥檚 a Happy Hour Menu starting at 3 p.m. with beers for $3.50, wines under $10 a glass and 6-inch subs for $7.99.

The sandwich menu鈥檚 myriad choices are broken into Signature, Traditional and Hot categories.

I had been craving a meatball sub, but they were out of meatballs by the time I arrived, so I got a half Italian Sausage sub ($9.49) instead. It was a fortuitous decision. The sandwich, served in a basket on red and white checked paper, held thick slices of housemade sausage on provolone cheese dressed in marinara. The faint notes of licorice from the fennel in the firm, bouncy sausage animated the tangy, sweet marinara. Fresh bread held the generous portion together without breaking. A simple presentation elevated by the sterling components. The potato salad consisting of small chunks of potato in a firm dressing was well-cooked if a little bland.

The Sicilian ($9.49), one of the Signature Subs, arrived with a variety of thin-sliced meats packed into the elbow of the bread. Provolone and thin slices of tomato gleaming with olive oil and Italian seasonings topped it off. The meats offered subtle differences in textures and tastes: the mortadella silky and savory, the prosciutto buttery, the capicola salty and chewy on the edges. Again, a simple presentation that let the ingredients shine.

Next door to Tully鈥檚 is the charming Saratori鈥檚 Pastry Shop with its own counter and seating area. After my sandwiches, I ventured over there to try a Cannoli ($5.99). The rich, thick ricotta filling, flavored with a touch of citrus and vanilla and studded with mini chocolate chips, spilled out of a blistered, crackling fresh pastry shell. A perfect match for a bitter espresso.

The sandwiches were delivered to my table in about 10 minutes. Gluten-free rolls are available.

If Tully鈥檚 is a paragon of the Italian American deli, then another strip-mall spot a few miles north stands as an exemplar of the pasticceria, or pastry shop. That place is Linda鈥檚 Dolci, a 3-year-old shop located on the south side of Montgomery Boulevard in the Northeast Heights.

Linda Manias is the driving force behind her namesake establishment. Manias grew up in Pordenone, a city in northeastern Italy whose residents wake up every morning to pastry with espresso or cappuccino. When Manias moved to the 近距离内射合集 States and found herself missing the treats of her home country, she took matters into her own hands and learned how to bake. In about 10 years, she progressed from the home kitchen to the farmers market to a brick-and-mortar shop located at the end of a strip mall on the east side of a large shopping center anchored by a Target.

Linda鈥檚 Dolci is open seven days a week. Seating options include a shaded patio out front and wood-topped tables with metal chairs inside with room for about 20 people.

The shallow dining room is dominated by a long display case piled with all manner of baked goods. Here, thick, craggy-surfaced almond cookies with different fillings overflow a serving tray. There, fat croissants dusted with confectioner鈥檚 sugar and freighted with Nutella, pastry cream or chocolate call to you.

My eyes were initially drawn to the Pasticcini ($2.50), little cups of pastry cream crowned with a variety of toppings. I chose one with dried strawberries in a pool of strawberry jam. The airy pastry cream shined, tying together the firm pastry shell and tangy, sweet strawberry.

On the top shelf, right at eye level, a pile of Sfogliatella ($3.94) beckoned. The pastry is named after the Italian word for 鈥渢hin leaves.鈥� An appropriate moniker for the stacked, flaky layers of dough that fan out like a seashell. The server told me they are one of most popular items in the shop, and no wonder. Each bite had a good balance between the delicate, crisp shell and the citrus-spiked cream inside.

A more dense, heavier option, a slice of Pistachio Crostata ($5.75), sandwiched buttery, sweet pistachio filling between a firm base and crumbly, crisscrossed strips of dough. The German jam donut Krapfen ($5.80) displayed a fluffy, light yeast dough around an apricot filling. Very good, even if the sweet, tart apricot filling was largely confined to the center of the donut.

A remarkable feature of Linda鈥檚 Dolci is the number of options for vegan and gluten-free diners. A slice of gluten-free Chocolate Coconut Cake ($5.45) was terrific, the intensely fudgy cake cut with the nutty, tropical flavor of the coconut. A gluten-free Vanilla Cake ($8.58) served in a plastic tub was lemony, soft, and as moist as tres leches cake.

The coffee menu is divided into Italian and Specialty categories made from beans supplied specially for the place by O鈥橞eans, a coffee shop in Sandia Heights. Most cost in the $3-$5 range. A Viennese coffee ($4.45) was served in a conical glass with no handle. A cloud of whipped cream atop the coffee supported a handful of chocolate chips. The bitterness of the coffee and chocolate tamped down its sweetness.

Service was prompt and friendly. The server told me it gets busiest on the weekend, when lines form at the counter and popular items like the tiramisu run out.

Albuquerque鈥檚 Little Italy may be long gone, but the city鈥檚 thriving Italian food scene shows that its spirit lives on. Held up by the old standbys and reinvigorated by the new arrivals, it鈥檚 a 150-year-old gift that keeps on giving.