So Thursday I had lunch in Parma, still a Polish enclave SW of Cleveland. After traipsing around with Chuck the AC-DC band member look alike (Angus the guitar player) and identifying the correct used seatbelt at A&C Salvage Yard I had an hour to wait for the “part to be pulled” (as the sign says). I went in search of lunch in the land of chain-restaurants, a veritable heaven (hell) of corporate grub.
Having recently been on a grossly processed diet jag, I quested for something besides McDonalds, Applebees, Skyline Chili, Boston Market ( least offensive so far), Quiznos and 14 other options. So I kept driving and peering. Then it was there—Mediterranean Deli. Vinyl sign flapping in the wind, “Just arrived” (as if transported whole from the Gobi Desert). Bounced inside with Falafel on the brain, maybe a bean salad on the side.
Pulled a sad face when the deli cases were empty and only shelves of Middle Eastern groceries were in view. Took my biscuits and Lebanese Coffee to checkout and expressed disappointment. Guy shows me letter of approval from City of Parma but says still waiting for inspector to come for final look see. Rang out, started walking away and he says, “We do have some pies.” Spinach Pies? Can you warm them up? Sat in car and enjoyed best (of course) Spinach pies ever. Picked up seatbelt, safe and satisfied.