Franco's Deli

It happened that the night we had a rather fierce fire on this, the 1200 block of Duval, I thought Franco's Deli might have burned down. As I sat and listened to the radio talk between the firefighters I wondered if this deli might be gone before I had even had a chance to check it out.As it turned out the fire burned an empty house, scorched some apartments and the strip club, but spared the deli. This is a recent arrival in Key West operated by a couple of brothers whose last name is, appropriately enough Bologna, the city that gave it's name to the pressed meat called baloney...When I asked him if his name forced this career onto him brother Peter ( which wa show he identified himself) looked at me a bit old fashioned and said "No," in a gruff New York style. "I could'a been anything. This was my fate." I wondered if he could have been a contender too but kept that thought to myself. His brother Franco paints in between making sandwiches:I have no experience of New York style delis having spent most of my adult life in California. However one night I got a call at work from Officer Sellers, she who likes to call me "Mr Conchscooter" after the time she spotted her neighbor's house on my blog. "What's the name of the deli on Upper Duval?" she asked, anxious to show her friends a good time. "Er..." I said in the manner of one who is mistaken for a person who knows everything. So when this Key West native started extolling the value of Franco's I thought I'd better try it. After the fire intervened I got my skates on and scooted over:Peter Bologna (unless he was pulling my leg and he is a shy painter called Franco) in the yellow cap, saw the camera and asked if I was a restaurant critic. "No" I said. He grunted when I said it was just a record for my blog. "I would'a bribed you..." The thought hung tantalisingly in the air. I wondered what a Bologna bribe looks like. Perhaps a bottle of virgin olive oil or some capers from the Old Country?I grew up somewhere in the middle of the Italian boot and we never had sandwiches like they sell here. The Italian sandwiches I ate as a kid were two pieces of bread with a piece of meat or a piece of cheese, no condiments, no mayonnaise no lettuce no nothing. No wonder Italians emigrated en masse to America. It wasn't that the streets were paved with gold, it was that Italian heros had all the ingredients one could imagine between two slices of bread.And Illy coffee isn't bad at all though I've never seen it sold out of a Thermos in Italy. New York maybe but I only ever spent one night in New York 29 years ago so I know nothing about the Big Apple. Franco's deli charges 50 cents for a cup of ice and only let's customers use the restroom. That's a Key West thing, else the bums will set up camp there.They proudly use Boar Head meats and I guess that was what I got because I wanted to try the basic cold Italian combo.They also produce Italian pasta dishes and stuffed vegetables. I was planning on eating the sandwich at the movies so I wanted something easy to deal with. Look at that sparkling clean kitchen:They don't have anywhere to sit except a couple of stools on the porch which make a nice spot to observe life on Upper Duval. The yellow awning marks the Banana Cafe next door which used to be my favorite Italian restaurant in Key West called Carmine's which had to close as the landlord went nuts and doubled the rent or something. Very annoying as I liked the Banana Cafe better in it's old cramped intimate quarters. A crepe at the counter was a great lunch for one. Now I have Franco's to test:Notice the prices are not especially high and one has to wonder what a sweet Italian sausage or a chicken cutlet would taste like. They also use this abbreviation for parmigiana which I first heard on a TV show called The Sopranos where they abbreviated everything and cut off the last vowels of Italian words. So that becomes "parm" which would shock the residents of Parma no doubt, which is where the cheese is from. Abbreviating is not an Italian thing to do. Unless you are in New York or New Jersey or somewhere.They sell salads too and they have stuff for breakfast which sounds enticing. It's as well I live outside the city I think, this is not low calorie food.For eight and a half bucks I got a sandwich big enough for two meals.I wonder what a New Yorker would make of it?

Summer Returns

My wife sent me this picture from her iPhone when she went to visit family in Rock Island Illinois. She wasn't happy to hear me tell of a sunny and warm weekend in Key West while she was gone. It's that time of year, when people from Up North abandon their factories and farms (...farms?) and come south to spend their retirement monies in sunny Key West.This is what they come to see and do, wear summer dresses in January and ride motor scooters in America's quaintest town.They get serenaded by more or less competent buskers on Duval Street:Or they buy palm frond art from Michael, busy at his spot in front of La Concha Hotel:People needing to apply some color to their knees can check out the menus in front of the restaurants:I have no idea what this lot were up to but they looked...uh...picturesque? Some people bring the whole family to do some light shopping on Duval:

Some people come to restore their faith in the value of romance:

And most people like to put their toes at risk in sandals. At least these two weren't riding along dragging their feet.

I was slightly surprised to notice this man wearing substantial footwear on Duval. Then I realized he was riding that overpowered cruiser known as the Yamaha V-Max and probably needs all the help he can get to keep that beast under control:Self control is a lost art in 21st century America, and while I agree 84 degrees (29C) is on the warm side I am firmly of the belief you should come as you are as the Tourism Development Council pens the slogan for the Keys, but have the good sense to cover up on main street USA.Or cool off rather than flaunt your gut. I prefer the locally produced Flamingo Crossing Ice Cream, if anyone cares. Here's a new one, new to me at least:A flash of thigh for those in the Northern Hemisphere snowed in for months to come:I had no idea you could buy knives like these on Duval Street.

Drinkers at Mangoes were so overheated they needed a fan to stay cool in the outdoor bar. Chicago this ain't, not in January at any rate:Friday afternoon on Duval Street was like an informal contest to see who could show the most summer skin:

These two on bicycles were a study in confusion. They had helmets, like good little snowbirds, but perhaps they had been in town too long because they wore cloth headgear and stored the safety helmets on their bicycles. No, I don't know why they were taking their helmets for a tour.A glance down a side street towards Bahama Village showed a bright summer afternoon street scene:This sidewalk artist, with suitable northern pallor was comfortable in the shade and intent on his work:I think this place used to be a coffee shop, but it is now called, whatever it was before, Cork and Stogie which cuts through all the crap, I guess. These patrons don't look like they miss tea and coffee.I found this chair going begging, sitting in the middle of the street somewhere off Duval:

This dude was looking extremely cool on a hot afternoon in front of Johnson's Grocery Store:

A summer afternoon in January at Fort Zachary Taylor State Park:

See, walking around half naked at the beach seems reasonable enough to me. I'd like to think they were all dressed when they were shopping at Fast Buck Freddie's, whose shopping bags they carried.

I liked this picture of a walk in a meadow of an August afternoon.Actually they were two visitors to Fort Zachary in January. Ah, Key West.

Lost Part II

According to a quick scan of the map this strange unmarked road is called South Street and may be all of three quarters of a mile long (one kilometer). We took more than an hour to meander along, taking pictures checking smells and looking into these odd pits dug out into the bushes.

This may also be horse country, according to the signs in the mud:

The beauty of winter in the Keys is that it's dry season so it rains when it's hot in the summer and dries out when it's colder. I like that combination.The return to warmer weather and bright crisp sunshine is welcome.

At this western end of the road I did start to see a few pine trees that were alive and flourishing:And I came across was a set of concrete blocks cemented together with re-bar down the middle. There was no sign of any construction around there but there were a few planks in the bushes. Just another Keys mystery lying around.Cheyenne was lost in her own world, and with no cars around she could wander at will.

Even in the midst of this wilderness we could see a line of houses in the distance to the south, with one tin roof winking semaphore at us as the sun passed overhead.At one point the road took a jog to the north through the bushes. Barely visible in the picture, Fat Albert was hovering over it all:

Finally a sign of civilization:

And over my shoulder brief whisk of a white tail and a Key Deer summed us up and vanished.

A mown lawn, a sure sign of people:

And our walk ended in the blank walls of dwellings on Big Pine's Fern Street at Guava:

The good dog was outside, free and busy sniffing:

And there between the thick bushes the unassuming entrance to South Street from the west:

Cheyenne was still full of beans and doubling back and forth as we made our inexorable return to Key Deer Boulevard. It seemed like a lot further than seven tenths of a mile to me.