My cousin was the one who told me about Fello’s. She said, “Just go in and ask for Tommy. Tell him you want whatever he’s making that day.” I figured she was exaggerating the way people do when they love a place. She was not exaggerating.
Fello’s Market & Deli sits on Mayfield Road in South Euclid, not far from where the suburbs start to thin out and the side streets get quieter. It’s been in the same family for decades — Tommy Fello is the second generation behind that counter, and on most mornings he’s already deep into prep work before the lunch crowd starts filtering in. The man moves like someone who has done this ten thousand times, which he has.
What makes Fello’s worth the drive from wherever you’re coming from is simple: the meat is cut to order, the sandwiches are built with actual care, and nobody there is performing anything. Tommy will ask you a couple of questions — how thick, what kind of bread, mustard or no mustard — and then he’ll make you something that will ruin deli sandwiches at other places for a while.
I’ve been going back for two years now, and I’ve landed on the Italian as my default: capicola, sopressata, provolone, hot peppers, oil. They slice the meats thin enough that each layer actually tastes like itself rather than a generic cold-cut wall. The bread holds up without being aggressively crusty. It’s the kind of sandwich where you don’t talk while you’re eating it, not out of rudeness but just because you’re paying attention.
The market side of the shop is worth a slow walk-through. There are imported pastas and olive oils, house-made sausages in the case, a rotating selection of olives and marinated vegetables, and enough imported Italian pantry staples that you’ll leave with a bag of things you didn’t plan to buy. I’ve picked up fresh mozzarella here that I’ve never found a reason to stop buying. Tommy’s wife runs that side of things with the same no-nonsense efficiency he brings to the counter.
Sandwiches run roughly eight to twelve dollars depending on what you build. The prepared foods — lasagna, stuffed peppers, roasted chicken on certain days — are priced like a neighborhood market should price things, meaning you don’t feel penalized for wanting a real meal. The place does get busy at lunch, especially on Fridays, so I usually try to get there by eleven-thirty or call ahead if I’m picking up something for a crowd.
What I keep coming back to, honestly, is Tommy himself. He’s not performing warmth for the sake of it — he’s just a guy who genuinely cares about what he puts in front of you. He’ll remember your order the third time you come in. He’ll tell you if the prosciutto is worth it that week or if you should go with something else. That kind of institutional knowledge, passed down through a family that decided to keep doing this the right way — you don’t find that everywhere, and you definitely don’t find it at a chain.
If you’ve never been to Fello’s, go on a weekday, give yourself a few minutes to look around, and just ask Tommy what’s good. He’ll tell you the truth.
