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the place had character
It was a brisk and chilly Saturday afternoon when I stepped out of the wind and into this "Jeff's NY Deli," just off Spring Street near Centennial Park and I was less than impressed. The decor was bold, but sparse... and cheap. A KLH boombox honked Christmas tunes well before Thanksgiving, and through a fog of white noise, to boot. Exposed pipes, ductwork, and electrical raceway but not in a trendy fashion. Two tables shoved together supported newspaper coupons, comics, crosswords, as well as a time-worn (and possibly war-ravaged) coca-cola mug. A refrigerated display cabinet next to the cash register with dated-looking potato salad, fruit sald, etc. and another cooler full of various soft drinks awaited farther in. A braless, frumpy matriarch with questionable dental integrity hovered over a plump, silent boy of middle school age, frustrated that he is not picking up the (apparently) family trade with adequate velocity. They are receiving and calculating a customer's order.
On a normal day, I'd have revolved and walked right back out. However, pressed for time and tummy grumbling, knowing this 10 minute window was likely my last for some hours, I continued to the counter, waited my turn behind the only other customers (mother and son) placed my order and sat down. I was slightly depressed and uncomforably impatient.
I surveyed the scene again - in more detail this time. Mostly noticing more cheapness, more corners cut, more dirt. Annoyed and still impatient, I pulled out my camera and started checking it over, making sure I was prepared for the photoshoot to follow. Everything checks out. Still hungry. They already have my money - might as well wait. Frumpy matriarch busies herself behind the counter while the boy shuffles some of the newspapers and plays with his hat. I consider engaging him in conversation, think better of it, nod, receive his reciprocal nod and decide to start shooting. With the camera, of course.
I start to look at the room in a different way, now. I'm looking for something. But what am I looking for? Something good, for starters. I'm looking for interesting light, interesting geometry, interesting... anything. I quickly find it across the narrow room from me and slight to the right - towards the door. It's the sun reaching in, dousing the room with warm ambient light as well as a few fingers of bright rays. Casting a fragile but intense shadow deep into the deli, the ray of interest penetrates not only the physical space of the room, but my perception of this restaurant as well. One of the beauties of photography is finding beauty where you otherwise might not notice it.
After taking a few photos, my sandwich arrives. It is a monstrous mound of honey cooked ham with deli swiss on new york rye bread accompanied by the aforementioned dated-looking potato salad. Oh, and lettuce, tomato and deli mustard as well. Having expected a frumpy sandwich to go along with the frumpy appearance of the shop as well as the preparer, I now felt guilty. The sandwich was, quite honestly, one of the tastiest sandwiches I've ever had. I was beginning to wonder if their "Best sandwiches in Atlanta" claim was not so insulting after all... in fact possibly even true.
Now, I have never visited New York, so I have no idea if this place resembles, in any way, a typical NY deli. My guess is no. But one inescapable conclusion was that I had miscalulated, misjudged, and damn near missed out on this place and what it had to offer.
What they lacked in appearance, the shiny surfaces, the trendy furniture, the beautiful staff, the friendly smile... they made up for in substance - a warm, natural, and unassuming place to eat and a helluva damn good sandwich. I guess the best way to put it is: the place had character.
-true story