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Ripe North Park embraces unheralded sandwich toppings
Vegetables no longer an afterthought at neighborhood produce shop
No soup could ever look as fresh as the inside of this sandwich.
You look for a couple of things when you visit a sandwich shop. Occasionally, a place will stand out by making its own meat, or offering exotic cheeses. A lot of places impress thanks to their choice in bread; baked on premises, or at least better tasting than a yoga mat.
Ripe North Park doesn't bake its own bread. Meat-wise, it serves Boar's Head, which is fine. But would they be appreciably better or worse for serving Dietz & Watson? Only to someone obsessed with particulars. Most of us just want a good sandwich.
Ripe lets its vegetables do the heavy lifting. It's chiefly a produce stand, after all, with immediate access to the locally sourced and often organic fruits and veggies stacked around its three walls daily.
Fresh produce here, young plants growing next door.
The front of the shop opens up to a tiny asphalt lot it shares with the North Park Nursery, just off Thorn Street on 32nd. Only a couple of outdoor tables indicate there's any lunch food being made behind a counter at the back of the shop.
On a nice day, asphalt's really not the most desirable surface to eat upon. I visited amid heavy showers, so it was out of the question. If you're in the neighborhood, it makes a convenient eating spot between visits to the nursery and Thorn St. Brewery, and sometimes you'll come across a musical performance taking place.
I ordered to go, giving me a chance to explore the produce. I spotted a jackfruit of all things, as well as tomatillos, baskets of enormous blueberries, tiny Brussels sprouts, myriad leafy greens and most of your typical farmer's market produce. Apparently, some of this stuff is sourced so locally it could be transported in a bicycle basket.
I opted for the soup and half-sandwich special, mostly because it was chicken noodle against a cold windy rain. The Jerk Turkey sandwich sounded good on principle, so I failed to notice the inclusion or rye bread and sweet mustard, neither my favorite.
I didn't notice til I got home, and took my first bite, already knowing I'd be disappointed. I was, but it didn't stop me from noticing how crisp the cucumber and red onions were, how juicy the thin slivers of tomato, and how flavorful the avocado.
The produce is the star of these sandwiches, and by the end of my half I no longer cared about the bread or the condiments. Next time, I go for a whole.
Here's something you might be interested in.
Ripe North Park embraces unheralded sandwich toppings
Vegetables no longer an afterthought at neighborhood produce shop
Ripe North Park embraces unheralded sandwich toppings
Vegetables no longer an afterthought at neighborhood produce shop
No soup could ever look as fresh as the inside of this sandwich.
You look for a couple of things when you visit a sandwich shop. Occasionally, a place will stand out by making its own meat, or offering exotic cheeses. A lot of places impress thanks to their choice in bread; baked on premises, or at least better tasting than a yoga mat.
Ripe North Park doesn't bake its own bread. Meat-wise, it serves Boar's Head, which is fine. But would they be appreciably better or worse for serving Dietz & Watson? Only to someone obsessed with particulars. Most of us just want a good sandwich.
Ripe lets its vegetables do the heavy lifting. It's chiefly a produce stand, after all, with immediate access to the locally sourced and often organic fruits and veggies stacked around its three walls daily.
Fresh produce here, young plants growing next door.
The front of the shop opens up to a tiny asphalt lot it shares with the North Park Nursery, just off Thorn Street on 32nd. Only a couple of outdoor tables indicate there's any lunch food being made behind a counter at the back of the shop.
On a nice day, asphalt's really not the most desirable surface to eat upon. I visited amid heavy showers, so it was out of the question. If you're in the neighborhood, it makes a convenient eating spot between visits to the nursery and Thorn St. Brewery, and sometimes you'll come across a musical performance taking place.
I ordered to go, giving me a chance to explore the produce. I spotted a jackfruit of all things, as well as tomatillos, baskets of enormous blueberries, tiny Brussels sprouts, myriad leafy greens and most of your typical farmer's market produce. Apparently, some of this stuff is sourced so locally it could be transported in a bicycle basket.
I opted for the soup and half-sandwich special, mostly because it was chicken noodle against a cold windy rain. The Jerk Turkey sandwich sounded good on principle, so I failed to notice the inclusion or rye bread and sweet mustard, neither my favorite.
I didn't notice til I got home, and took my first bite, already knowing I'd be disappointed. I was, but it didn't stop me from noticing how crisp the cucumber and red onions were, how juicy the thin slivers of tomato, and how flavorful the avocado.
The produce is the star of these sandwiches, and by the end of my half I no longer cared about the bread or the condiments. Next time, I go for a whole.
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