Aisles and aisles before you eat

Noon, and you’re standing in line at Mario’s. It’s a little like being at the bank, except there are more people working back there than at any bank -- at least five behind the counter, frantically taking orders and making sandwiches.

Finally your number is called and you order one of the 70 choices. Now, while the sandwich is being made, you can wander through the aisles of shelf goods: Italian wines; dozens of Italian olive oil brands, plus Spanish, Portuguese and Greek oils; countless Italian cookies and candies.

Loads of pastas, not just well-known brands such as De Cecco, but obscure ones such as Riscossa and Fabianelli. Three brands from the Puglia region -- Divella, Castellana and Ciccarese -- seem to specialize in odd shapes like foglie di carciofi (“artichoke leaves,” which you’re supposed to serve with artichoke hearts and mascarpone).

Once, I encountered a helpless-looking guy in the pasta aisle. His wife had sent him down to Glendale from Santa Clarita, 30 miles away, to get a particular pasta, and he was just standing there, overwhelmed by all the shapes.

Clearly, Mario’s Italian Deli is a big-league deli, overflowing with all the flavorful Italian ingredients we’ve grown to love around here. The cold cases have all the usual Italian cheeses -- Fontina, Taleggio and so on -- but also sharp aged provolone, Grana Padano, Parmigiano-Reggiano and a rare Parmesan type called Rocca.

The salumi, Italian-style deli meats, come from San Francisco’s Molinari and Milan-based Citterio. There’s a separate cold case for smaller sausages such as coteghino, biroldo (a Tuscan blood sausage), a miniature salami (covered with white bloom) called cacciatore, and some Basque, Spanish and sometimes even Brazilian types.

And there are ready-cooked pastas with a choice of homemade sauces, and homemade meatballs, sausages and cannoli. But by the time you’re perusing these, your sandwich will be ready.

These really are fine Italian sandwiches, on fresh rolls sliced twice to make them double-deckers. They come with lettuce, onion, tomato, cheese and a good, mustardy mayo.

I know somebody who earnestly studies the menu each time she comes here but always ends up ordering the spicy soppressata. I see her point. It’s a spicy, garlicky meat like a cross between ham and salami, and it makes an excellent sandwich. But my favorite is mild coppa, with a powerful, winy, cured-pork flavor, more or less dry salami as a solid chunk of meat, rather than ground and mixed with diced fat. In the same general territory is coppa veneziana, a very attractive coppa with a milder flavor.

There are some unusual kinds of ham. Calabrese, rather hotly spiced with red pepper. Rosemary roast ham and Parmesan-pesto ham, sweet mild hams with distinct aftertastes of rosemary or of Parmesan, garlic and basil. They make for rather poetic sandwiches.

The hot sandwiches are stuffed with meat, sliced paper-thin. You can get beef, pork or lamb, all dosed with garlic. I prefer the lamb, partly for fairness’ sake -- there aren’t that many lamb sandwiches around -- but it definitely is good, gamy lamb.

With the Bad Boy sandwich, Mario’s strays a bit. It doesn’t use Italian meats but a mixture of pastrami and maple-cured turkey (one of a huge variety of flavored turkeys, from Cajun to honey-molasses) -- or even pork and mesquite chicken, for gosh sakes. And it throws in avocado, hot peppers and honey mustard as well as the usual toppings. It’s huge and hot and a little sloppy, but more harmonious than it sounds.

At the counter, Mario’s keeps a list of things a vegetarian might order, such as eggplant Parmesan and some of the pastas. The cheese sub is made with your choice of any three cheeses in the main cheese display.

Besides sandwiches, there are hot plates and pastas, and homemade cannoli and tiramisu. In fact, there’s everything for a restaurant except espresso -- and wine (you can buy it here, you just can’t open it on the premises). It’s tempting to have a proper sit-down lunch here.

But consider: It’s lunch hour. You’re running out of time. No more lollygagging around, counting Chiantis, marveling at pastas. You’ve got to get back to the real world.

Maybe you’ll have time to stop off at the bank on the way back. Naw, no time. That bank line is too slow.

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Mario’s Italian Deli & Market

Location: 740 E. Broadway, Glendale, (818) 242-4114; fax (818) 242-2301

Price: Cold sandwiches, $5.50 to $7.99; hot sandwiches, $5.95 to $8.75; pizzas, $7.49 to $15.59; hot plates, $5.95 to $7.99; desserts, $1.75 to $3.99

Best dishes: Soppressata sub, coppa sub, Parmesan-pesto ham sub, hot lamb sandwich

Details: Open 8:30 a.m. to 6:30 p.m. Monday to Friday, 8:30 a.m. to 6 p.m. Saturday. No alcohol for drinking on the premises. Parking lot in rear. Visa, MasterCard, American Express.