The sandwiches are killer, and the Italian dishes to die for. From all accounts, it’s authentic Jersey food. But I won’t testify to that in court.

Although I’ve traveled to 47 states and nearly 30 countries, my experience in New Jersey is limited. I’ve flown into Newark rather than a New York airport. Attending a Final Four in Philadelphia, I’ve stayed in Cherry Hill. I spent part of one day on a tour junket to Atlantic City. And I’ve cut through the state on an interstate bound elsewhere.

Otherwise, my New Jersey knowledge is limited to the songs of Bruce Springsteen and an old Saturday Night Live joke featuring Joe Piscapo with the laugh line, “Which exit?” Oh, and though I never watched The Sopranos, I know Tony and his “family” were from New Jersey.

But somehow, I feel like I’ve experienced the authentic, Italian-style deli experience one finds in New Jersey by visiting Hoboken Cafe in Marietta.

Located in an end cap location of an unassuming strip mall on Dallas Highway just past Dave Poe’s Barbeque and Lidl, we’ve driven by Hoboken Cafe for years. We were curious when we saw the packed parking lot, but never turned in at the right exit.

And now, we’re wondering why we waited so long, and looking forward to our return visit.

We walked in just after 1 pm on a bright Georgia day. The place was still crowded, tables filled with delivery drivers and utility crews, business people, and an assortment of regulars. We learned that last bit of information based on some of the conversations we couldn’t help but hear in the close booths.

At the counter, the owner, Johnny Pizza, took orders patiently and efficiently. Now, I can’t say if Johnny Pizza is his real name. And even if I knew, I probably wouldn’t offer to testify to that in court. What I can say is that almost everyone seemed to know Johnny. They called him by name, though maybe some were just reading it off his shirt. But judging by the pictorial wall of fame, Johnny is connected — to the rich and famous that included actors, singers, athletes and other characters.

As first timers, we studied the menu awhile before ordering. Johnny waited patiently and offered a few suggestions, all while welcoming arrivals and waving to his departing guests. After deciding on a chicken vesuvio sandwich and a chicken parm plate, we found a booth and waited for our food.

We sat at a large window near the front of the restaurant. That’s something one wouldn’t do in a stereotypical Italian restaurant in Jersey. But this was Marietta, and a deli.

Look, fancy it ain’t. But good? No questions asked, a good policy to observe when your mouth is stuffed with perfectly fried chicken, a host of peppers and some of the best sandwich bread ever. When my wife inquired how my sandwich was, I sounded like a Sopranos victim who had been gagged.

“Ummmm. ummmm. ummmm,” was my reply. I was focused on keeping every tasty morsel from escaping my mouth while still trying to convey to her just how good it was.

Meanwhile, she was daintily and delicately trying to navigate a plate of chicken parm. Lathered with a heaping helping of bright red tomato sauce, I waited to see a blood-red stain on her black and white blouse. As usual, she managed perfectly, not losing a drop on her sleeve or napkin. Fortunately for me, she couldn’t finish her plate. So our to-go box included 1/4 of my sandwich and just less than half of her chicken parm.

So, we loved our authentic Italian Jersey lunches. But, as my Jersey knowledge and experience is admittedly limited, I’ve relied on others to validate the Hoboken Cafe experience. So check out some of these reactions from Yelp and other sources:

• “It was very good and something that I would definitely recommend, . . . not only for Jersey transplants like myself, but for anyone.”
• “As a NJ native, I actually crave this place at least once a week.”
• “As a New York girl this is my go-to in GA for hoagies. The bread is perfect.”
• “Since leaving Jersey I’ve been craving a good sandwich. I had the special ‘gabba -gol’ and it was the best sandwich I’ve had down here.”
• “I bit into one of the best cannoli’s I’ve ever had, and I’m from Brooklyn, NY where our streets are lined up with Italian restaurants.”

By the way, even though we left good portions of our meals, we didn’t have room for the delightful desserts we spied at neighboring tables. Holy cannoli, Batman, that was poor planning on my part. But now we have a perfect reason to return.

During this Lenten season, we made one of our too-infrequent visits to JimPa’s, a local fried fish and chicken joint located in a former Huddle House at the corner of Cobb and McCollum Parkways in Kennesaw.

We always enjoy our irregular visits here, filling ourselves with delightful thin-cut fried catfish filets, plus incredible sweet and tangy hushpuppies. Then, we add some of our favorite sides like an extra order of fried hushpuppies, fried okra, fried, pickles, steak fries, white beans and coleslaw.

Eat and Enjoy

So why are our visits infrequent and irregular? Well, we could get really specific and refer you to our primary care doctor and cardiologist, armed with detailed cholesterol test results. But for our purposes here, let’s go with the less-specific answer. We just eat and enjoy way too much of JimPa’s fried fish for our own good. So while we’d love to visit more frequently, we think its in our own best interest to demonstrate some level of restraint. So we simply pass by, then always regretting our directional determination.

But for a special Friday lunch – and perhaps to spite that grumpy, spoilsport doctor! – we drove in directly from a recent physician’s visit. Nothing had changed since our last drop-in. We ordered fried fish at the counter. While a line of people waited for to-go orders, we took a seat at one of the checkered-table-cloth-covered tables to await our fried feast. A few tables away, a seasonally-decorated skeleton and a frog sat together. Fish stared down on us from their wall plaques.

Sharing The Fish Love

For the two of us, we shared a 3-filet fried fish meal, served with two sides plus those incredible hushpuppies. On this visit, we chose sides of coleslaw and white beans – darned that aforementioned grumpy doctor! But before walking away from the counter, I gave in and added four more hushpuppies to our order. HAH, take that, Doc!

We waited a few minutes, a hallmark and badge of honor at JimPa’s because nothing is cooked ahead for dine-in. And that means everything comes to your table steaming hot, especially those cornmeal covered catfish filets that melt in your mouth once you enjoy that momentary crunch from the seasoned coating.

SNAP! My Food’s Gone!

When the waitress delivered our food, items started disappearing from the plate faster than I could snap the always-required photos. Instead of three filets, there were less than two whole fried fish pieces left on the plate. SNAP! When I turned my camera to the hushpuppies, same story.  SNAP! Only the cup of white beans remained untouched. And that was because we sent the waitress back to fetch silverware while we snatched up other items by hand. SNAP! And while I was snapping, more fish and hushpuppies were disappearing quickly! So no more snapping!

Now, when I described JimPa’s as a “joint,” I meant that in the kindest manner. This place has character, often is patronized by characters, and, in fact, was established by a character. JimPa, aka, Catfish Jim, aka Jim Schrampfer, was a well-known fixture in the chain, franchise and Georgia restaurant industry before venturing out on his own. The latest incarnation of Jim’s fishy vision features the dine-in and take-out restaurant in the former Huddle House. A highly-popular, in-demand catering business serves regional businesses and events alike. I’ve enjoyed the catered meals at corporate events. We’ve also placed catering orders for holiday events at home. We mix catfish along with shrimp, chicken and those craveable hushpuppies, too.

If you’re looking for a fancy seafood meal, you won’t find it at JimPa’s. But, if you’re after a downhome feast featuring catfish, chicken, homemade sides and perfect hushpuppies, ignore your doctor or cardiologist and set your GPS to JimPa’s.