Review: At Louie’s Deli, the Italian sandwich experience you feared extinct

For 33 years, housemade chicken cutlets, precision assembly, and boffo stromboli has fed Clarence and environs

Ever walked into an old-school Italian-American deli and stood in line for a sandwich, greedily inhaling the atmosphere? Fresh bread’s yeasty breath, funk from cured meats and aged cheese, the acetic cologne of pickles and vinegar dressing, all for free.

In Buffalo, you must leave the city limits, and venture into the wilds of Clarence. Dave Lyman, the fish fry whisperer, first led me to the unassuming plaza where Louie’s Deli & Italian Imports still makes sandwiches from the good old days.

The 8226 Main St., roast turkey, sun-dried tomatoes, chunked aged Fontinella cheese, at Louie’s Deli

Chicken parm subs are built with pounded-out cutlets rolled in fresh breadcrumbs and baked fresh daily. Two generations and 33 years after his dad opened the place, Louis Yannello Jr. is the Louie in charge these days.

At Louie’s Deli, there’s actually a Louie: Louis Yannello Jr., who took over his father’s business, in its 33rd year.

Elsewhere, savory fillings wrapped in fresh dough, baked off and sold in slabs, are called stromboli. At Louie’s, they’re “stuffed breads,” because that’s what his mother Linda called them, when she started pitching in on Saturdays at her husband’s new deli in Clarence.

As demand for her breads, olive salad, rice pudding, and other family favorites grew, Louie’s became one of the first grab-and-go dinner options in the area. Today, Louie’s is lined with sandwich-seekers at lunchtime, breathing in the perfume of a well-seasoned deli.

Along with a long lineup of specialty sandwiches built on Dash’s French bread and Costanzo rolls, more than half a dozen types of freshly baked stuffed breads are available daily.

Spinach and cheese, stromboli (provolone, sweet peppers, salami), royal (Italian sausage links, capicola, hot cherry peppers, sweet peppers) are regulars, along with a corned beef version (corned beef, swiss cheese, deli mustard).

Then the Sicilian side of Louie’s comes out hard, with stromboli for fire-eaters.

The hot pepper version starts with hot pepper cheese, then adds smoked ham, asiago, and Buffalo-style stuffed peppers made from Hungarian chiles. The seeds are retained, for a longer, deeper burn.

The hot peppers, capicola and provolone bread, shingled with more fiery chile flakes, is “Suicide.” But it’s not the end. The Louie’s capsaicin range peaks at “Cry Baby”: habanero cheese, hot chiles, Calabrese salami.

Superior sandwiches offer more than first-class fillings. They offer proper bread-to-payload ratios. They are engineered to maintain structural integrity in mid-devour, so you don’t end up wishing you’d deployed tarps. Careless construction torpedoes submarines.

Not at Louie’s. Rest your eyes on this muffaletta ($11.99).

Vinaigrette-moistened pillowy loaf cradles a judicious layer of housemade olive salad, with just enough ham, salami, provolone, and Swiss to count.

Vegetarian options include the Cleopatra ($10.99), anchored by pickled eggplant, another housemade Louie’s ingredient available by the pound. With asiago cheese and fruity, tender sun-dried tomatoes, it’s a sandwich that could cure you of meat dependence.

Those sun-dried tomatoes also aid the 8226 Main Street, ($10.99), a composition of roast turkey, romaine, and chunks of aged fontinella cheese. It was the rare turkey sandwich that had me making plans for the second half.

Louie’s Royal ($11.99) is subtitled “Fit for a king.” Grandiose for a grinder? Then you’re dealt a deck of sauced Italian sausage, capicolla, and provolone dressed with lettuce, tomato, and onion, for a feed that regal indeed. Tender bread allowed for a firm no-slip grip on its essentials with a gentle squeeze.

If none of the 21 specialty sandwiches appeals, Louie’s can drop back to basics. A cheese or bologna or liverwurst sandwich is yours for $7.99. Or run up your own design.

Louie’s Deli muffaletta crowed with housemade chopped olive salad

While sandwich engineers get to work building your order, have a look around. In the deli case are meats, cheeses, and answers to meal questions, available by the pound. On the shelves are pastas, oils, canned tomatoes, spices, mostly from Italy.

Speaking of waiting, please note: Louie’s is not fast food. If you’re in a hurry, don’t come in and huff at the counterpeople. Seek out a drive-through, and huff at a digital display.

When your sandwiches are mostly machine-made by minimum-wage strangers, no wonder you endure so many mouthfuls of anonymous meh. Try the handmade offerings at this family-powered filling station and the difference might make you want to get on a first-name basis. “Let’s go to Louie’s.”