Al’S Recipe Simple, Perfect

Mankind cannot live on bread alone. There must also be meat, cheese and scoops of freshly popped corn.

If that still sounds like Spartan fare, you’ve probably never been inside Domini Sandwiches, 703 W. Sprague.

And if you haven’t been to Domini’s, well, how can you call yourself a Spokane resident?

Since the early 1960s, this small, family-run business has been sating the city’s appetites with a basic formula prepared to perfection:

Thick piles of just-sliced meat stacked between equally thick slabs of fresh bread. Add some cheese if you want. Mustard and mayo are acceptable options.

Woe unto those who ask for tomatoes or greens.

A Domini’s sandwich may be no-frills simple. But simple done right is a beautiful thing.

Not to mention successful. Some 400 sandwiches and 65 pounds of popcorn fly out of this place daily.

We Domini’s fans are intensely loyal. Our number is legion.

Today there is sadness in our hearts.

We mourn Al Domini, who died last Friday after a stroke. The patriarch of the Domini clan would have turned 80 next Flag Day, June 14.

At 1 p.m. Wednesday, a memorial service will be held at St. John’s Cathedral.

Al was a bald, burly guy with a sweet disposition. His kindly eyes gazed out at the world from under two bushy dark brows.

He had too many friends to keep track of names. So he greeted most customers with a soft, “Hey, Buddy.”

Al Domini loved this city. It loved him right back.

A former potentate of the El Katif Shrine, he was a sucker for anyone needing help with a civic cause.

My favorite memory of Al says a lot about how the community perceived him.

For years, the Dominis closed their shop for the entire month of February. They would reopen on March 1, rewarding every customer with a pineapple or an orange.

Al claimed he closed for vacation. I suspect he knew how addicted the public was to his mega-sandwiches and used these voids to intensify our craving.

On this particular March 1, I saw Al walking along Sprague toward his restaurant.

Dozens of people suddenly began to pop out of doorways. “Welcome back, Al!” they yelled, waving and celebrating the sandwich king’s return.

He was born into the business. Al’s father, Joe, was a Spokane saloon keeper who served cold cuts to patrons in the days following Prohibition.

After a tour in the Air Force, Al bought a tavern with his brother, Fred, who died in 1970.

As the story goes, a customer in 1960 suggested the Domini brothers turn their meats and cheeses into giant sandwiches. Three years later, after a fire burned down their Howard Street location, the brothers moved to 703 W. Sprague.

Domini Sandwiches was born.

Giving people more than they bargained for was Al’s credo. “He used to say, `Make the to-go orders even bigger. That way they’ll be sure to come back,”’ adds Lena, Al’s wife of 53 years.

Domini clientele included big shots, bankers and bums. Dodger baseball legend Tommy Lasorda regularly wrapped his lips around a Domini’s sandwich when he managed the Spokane Indians in the 1970s.

The University of Washington marching band orders 300 sandwiches whenever it comes through to play the Cougs in the Apple Cup.

One year, a new band director forgot to pick up the sack lunches. At Al’s advice, his son Tom trucked the food to Pullman. “Our longest delivery,” he says, laughing.

If there is a bright spot it is that Tom and his brother, Joe, will keep alive the Domini traditions. Their sister, Nancy, plans to cover some of the walls with photographs of Al and his father. That would be a nice tribute.

As is the readerboard outside the Satellite Diner, a few blocks east of Domini Sandwiches. It sums up what everyone who knew this man feels:

“Farewell and God bless Mr. Al Domini.”