Considering the rough-hewn wooden walls and reclaimed artisan-chic flair, it looks like Quinn’s wandered down from Capitol Hill, had drunken sex with Jimmy John’s on First Avenue, then spawned Delicatus before staggering home. Decor aside, with neighbors like Salumi and Tat’s, you’ve got to make a compelling case for your sandwich-making existence, and Delicatus succeeds pretty damn admirably. One half of the menu is the Traditionalists: straightforward (if cutesily named) sandwiches like the Olivitto (meaty, un-outstanding), the East Coast Representin’ (pastrami to you and me), and the B.L.F-ingT. The other half is the more adventurous Progressives, like the Fists of Fury—glistening, almost-liquid pulled pork topped with cilantro, cucumber, wasabi aioli, and, brilliantly, a very small amount of tobiko caviar. It’s an innovation to be applauded, except that your hands are busy shoving it into your mouth.
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