European Delicatessen Review, Tip Top Meats 6118 Paseo Del Norte Carlsbad, California 92011

European Delicatessen Review, Tip Top Meats  

6118 Paseo Del Norte  Carlsbad, California  92011

Creamy Liverwurst, Big John Little John, Tannish Pottaters, Gravy Mash, Yummy French, Hashed Sauerkraut, Cabbage Knots, Father Salad, Working Coleslaw, First Ribs, Concoction Soup, Rolling Dinners, Smokey Brat Knacks: you’re talking about countries in a house!  The blue apron workforce’s attachments of lurid connection become swaying physics near a coffee pot garbage can, American Spirit Paintings, European Spirit Paintings.  This great foods house starts before ginger depletes and the Stella Artois company wets a native hiker’s thirst buds, as aroused eyebrows over shoulder employees twitch for their grand velocity and then eyes regress pupils to returns delicacy.  Liverwurst texturizes with pasty spam akin to its molded appearances as I nibble Big John above grandma’s used wrists, coloring sweet brown for twin bread slices after dad’s invigorating sauerkraut reflects Tip Top Meats’ brisk atmosphere out of blinding white shreds.  Kraft Salad squeaks in mild roughness of swishing audible bursts from torn strip lettuce patches; sour foil cannot be eaten, the curvy plates stopping food before human sips of relishment occur.  Thus on, laborers in their extended contacts with picky chewers satisfy physical needs of gaiety and obligation without trendy behaviors or demanding expectations, although Tip Top Meats’ fashionable wits are predictable enough after guarding years through in the quality names about the intensive care their workers trade into our minds.  Brittle beat slivers flow along forks as the Julian Family determines crumbs when jolly cleaners roam around softer wood-colored tables with gentle elbow room and wash away the sweat and spit of deli onlookers.  Tip Top Meats’ mediated endeavors by glowing menu bars if also electric plastic taste boards are hints of stern psychological personalities that rain on their struggle parade with concerned visages; I’m enchanted because fluorescent bulbs hang in Tip Tops’ careful balance of tongued responses, plus European cookies spill quite a few joules while Polish Lion Candy is shelved with Alaskan Coffee Dark Chocolate and mysterious wrappers.  My reading methods complicate matters enough for my theory of endearment which causes this mixture of passions that I draw with the English alphabet, so my favoritism of confusion relates: Tip Top Meats is a ginormous deli facility with several quarters for their exotic west flavors, a huge roof over more walls as the deli prepare-ments remind me of Italian turkey sammiches and too Tehachapi Albertson’s or Ralph’s signatures, especially when I imagine extra varieties of Liver & Onions across California and intrinsically speculate.  I can see Tip Tops’ meals through windows against sunshine allusions, to enjoy spammy liverwurst beneath azure paint during provocative holidays for me and the Julian Family: together, together, together, together, together.