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.
