In this written series, we find out the personal histories behind some of London’s favourite Italian delicatessens.
“Why don’t you ask my customers?” Tony, the owner of Salvino challenges me as we sit outside the Brecknock road institution in the May sunshine. I’ve asked him to describe the place in three words. He pauses pensively as he attempts to convey why people have been coming back for over 45 years.
“Always helpful!” interjects an adjacent smiling coffee-drinker. “Although you’ve got to be careful — you walk away with a piece of cheese twice the size you wanted,” she says. Tony laughs. “Yeah,” There’s a cheeky glint in his eye. “We do tend to oversell a bit.” He confesses. I can attest it’s true yet when the produce tastes this good, nobody is complaining.
Salvino has been open since 1979 and is run by brothers Antonio (Tony) and Stefano (Steve) but prior to them, it was run by their uncle. Originally a wholesale warehouse named Salvo; they distributed Italian goods until the storage unit moved round the corner to Caledonian Road. During that time, Salvino became a consumer shop. Tony took it over as a teenager. Cut to a few years later; his brother Steve decided to join too. It’s a real family affair here: their sister Rosie helps a couple of days a week and Steve’s son Giancarlo works here on Saturdays—putting his mind to work behind the counter. He also puts his thumb to use; he’s the whizz-kid running much of their social media presence. Follow them if you like drool-worthy cured meats and vintage cars. Why I love the place? So many reasons. Firstly, it’s only a mere 15-minute walk from my house. Better still, it’s one of the only places in North London you can buy a fantastic coffee at under four pounds. I sip a cappuccino with Tony as he tells me the history of the adored Camden establishment.
It’s got a real old-world charm to it. Mediterrean greens match the leaves of the olive trees outside the doorway. Sicilian mosaiced tiles. A vintage negroni sign to make any aspiring cocktail bar designer jealous. There’s even a painting of a biblical scene; remastered to feature Salvino’s owners in the background (this one a gift commission from a customer). Counters here are packed with cured meats and antipasto, and there’s fresh cannoli on display. The shelves here are immaculately stocked. (Tony’s brother Steve is the one with an eye for detail- while sipping my coffee I see him in the background aligning packets of biscotti just so.)
“Steve came in around 1983 or 1984. We didn’t think we’d still be here 46 years later, but we started here; I don’t think we can go anywhere else,” he says between a rapid onslaught of “‘giornos” to the stream of locals flying through the deli’s door. This is more than a shop; it’s a place for the community.
I wonder: how has business changed in those 46 years? Is it still going as well as it was in the early days? “Obviously, everything’s different— products, well everything. We had to adapt; made some changes in the shop, put in a new deli fridge, changed all the shelving, but we’ve kept some original features.” Tony gestures towards the small hole in the ceiling. “Even kept to the original leak. We’re arguing with the builder about that at the moment, but anyway, we’re still here,” he chuckles.
Tony and family were born in Sicily. They moved to London when he was about seven or eight months old. “Both my parents were Italian, so I’ve still got very strong roots.” Most of his family live in London now. “I was quite young when they died. I grew up with my mum’s parents — they used to look after me, so I was very close to my nonna.” Of course, as is Pasta Grannies tradition, I ask him about his grandmother’s signature dish: “Pasta with tomato sauce.” Simple but the best. “We grew up on that stuff — pasta most nights really. It was cheap. It fed everyone. The quality of tomatoes matter, though.”
As Tony chats to me, his London accent is prominent, yet Italian clientele rush in and converse with him in perfect Italian. It makes me think: how does Tony see himself? An Italian or a Londoner? “An Italian Londoner,” he replies with his dead pan expression. He’s a no-nonsense kind of man with forever twinkle of charm behind his eyes. I test his claim on heritage by proffering some hypothetical sports games: “I’m still Italian. If England play Italy, I’ll want Italy to win. But if England play anyone else, I’ll support England,” he responds.
Salvino truly has a pool of locals returning. Celebrity chefs gather culinary jewels from the treasures of these wooden shelves. British Bake-Off legend Mary Berry was famously pictured filling cannoli in this very spot. Just earlier this month American queen of the kitchen Alison Roman was photographed for big cover feature with the negroni sign in the background. And Yotam Ottolenghi, a man who runs many of his own successful delis of his own, is said to be regularly spotted in Salvino. “He loves the atmosphere,” Tony tells me. “There are quite a lot of new delis now, but I don’t know if they’ve got the same stories behind them. The newer delis are more modern, but we try to keep it original.”
Famous or not, Tony tells me most of his customers have had roots here a while. “Over so many years, you get to know all the families — we’ve probably seen three generations now. It’s gone quick.” The place was a real rooting point during the pandemic; a chance for the local community to come together. On cold mornings and sunny afternoons conversations and recipes were shared in the queue. It reached all the way down the pavement here and on to the main road towards Camden. “COVID was weird. In a good way, for us COVID was brilliant. Obviously, with it was awful with what happened, but business-wise, it was the best. Suddenly people wanted to come and get fresh pasta to eat at home.” Our guest customer who jumped in on the interview earlier at Tony’s request provides real evidence: “During the pandemic you were amazing. I used to come and sit and have my coffee here just to see people,” she says.
Tony feels proud of how a love of cooking fresh pasta was reignited during such a dark time. It’s lovely to hear a positive silver lining for such a bleak moment of recent history. “It was probably the perfect thing for small shops, because supermarkets didn’t have stock and there were queues everywhere. Obviously, a lot of people lost their lives, but business-wise, it was the best thing for us.”
The pandemic might be over, but the customer epidemic of appreciating their pasta appreciation doesn’t appear to be slowing down: “Pasta’s probably our biggest-selling product — still the best-seller. We’ve got lots of makes and varieties, and different ways of drying them too.” The team make their own ravioli with a variety of fillings; they’ve been doing so for ten years. “We’ve done really well with that,” Tony tells me. “Pasta is everything for us.”
Has the supply and demand plateaued into a more regular shape since the pandemic, I query:” It’s levelled down now into a more normal pattern. Business patterns have changed though— more people work from home. Fridays and Mondays are now busier days because people stay home, so trading’s changed too.” The future is threatened by external forces, namely EU pricing and the impact of cost-of-living: “With Brexit, all our prices went up — everything we buy from Italy suddenly is more expensive.”
Of course, Tony and Steve are busy men, but it’s not all work, work, work. Tony is good with his hands outside of the kitchen too: He’s a saxophonist and a mean tennis player. I suggest a Salvino supper club with pasta and live jazz: “If I was good enough! I played for about seven years, stopped for three, now it’s just a casual thing. Trouble is, we start at five and we’re here until five — it’s a long day.” I am exhausted just listening to him.
Where does he eat to fuel all that shelf stacking and long days at the deli? Does he have any other suggestions on where to get good Italian food? “I very rarely go to Italian restaurants. Sometimes I go to my cousin’s restaurant in Highgate, called Cittro, near the Calendar Café. Lovely pizzas, Neapolitan style, light and crispy. The pizza chef is really good; they prove their dough for 48 hours.”
This place definitely takes one of the city’s deli crowns for me. I would say that though; anywhere where I don’t need to get on public transport never mind jump on an aeroplane to get a dose of finocchiona is always going to bw welcome. By the way, their fennel salami truly is one of the best in London. Also don’t leave without picking up some rosemary prosciutto cotto. I took some into the Pasta Grannies office after my trip; it evaporated within minutes.
Tony is candid with me about the challenge of current hospitality and food landscape: “It’s really hard for small shops now. Years ago, you went to specialised shops for Italian food, but now supermarkets sell everything. In the early 70s you couldn’t even get olive oil anywhere! In the 80s there were so many Italian delis around — now most are closed. We might be one of the longest serving ones left.” And we can officially call this team Pasta Grandpas, welcoming in new grandsons to the family in recent months. “He’ll be working in the deli soon enough!” Tony jokes. I certainly hope this place continues until I see children of my own. “I hope so too.” he says. “That’s why we keep going.”
Liked this? There’s more Behind the Counter content coming to the Pasta Grannies website soon. Do you have a favourite deli you’d like us to visit? Let us know. Or, if you fancy going further afield with us why not where else we’ve been on our travels, and what we’re recommending on our blog.
