I almost turned around in the parking lot. Nothing about the outside told me anything special was waiting inside.
Then I opened the door and the smell hit me first, rich bread, smoked meats, something sweet baking in the back. For a second I forgot I was even in Georgia.
My grandmother used to make sandwiches like the ones I could already smell, thick cut meats, real mustard, bread with actual crust. I grew up hearing stories about delis like this, the kind my family talked about but I never got to see myself…