After an intense basketball game (well, as intense as a bunch of ten-year-olds running up and down a court gets) my reward was always a pita sandwich. It never mattered whether we won or lost, my father would drive my younger sister and me to Tarzana Armenian Deli (TAD).
As if it were yesterday I remember enthusiastically skipping into the shop, while my sister and father lag behind. Three turkey sandwiches, my father’s predictable order rings out — and my sister and I sprint to the chip rack. “WAIT,” a lightbulb flashed in my mind. “Mom wants us to get Armenian string cheese!” and I pivot toward the luscious, white braided cheese speckled with black sesame throughout.
Collecting our treats and groceries, my father walks to the coolers in the back of the shop to grab tan, a yogurt-based drink popular in the Middle East. Once our sandwiches are ready, I take my bright red tray to the small white table near the windows.
The three of us sit and unwrap the yellow paper to reveal fresh pita. Encased within is a thin layer of mayo, oozing out of the half-cut sandwich. Pale pink turkey swirls through the insides, mingling with the white, stringy provolone cheese, vibrant tomatoes, ripe avocados, and neon yellow peppers known as pepperoncini. As we chow down our taste buds are overwhelmed with salty, fatty, and spicy flavors. The simple sandwich with complex flavors makes us all sigh with satisfaction.
Although the home of the pita wrap is well-known for its six varieties of turkey, what makes it uniquely Armenian are the homemade specialties. Sarma is a tightly wrapped grape leaf roll stuffed with rice and spices, and the same Chelebian family recipe has been used for generations. It is a staple in any Armenian grandma’s mental cook book. Basturma is the deli meat of the Middle East—air-dried, highly seasoned, cured beef—and its salty flavor lingers in your mouth long after you take your last bite. You might compare a German and his bratwurst to an Armenian and his soujouk, which is a spicy, dry sausage that is incorporated into many Middle Eastern dishes. This warm wrap option at TAD is a particular favorite among the Armenian customers, as the rush of Anatolian flavors trigger nostalgic memories of their homeland.
Walk into the deli and see the eye-catching black and white checkered tiles. In the narrow space, the effect is mesmerizing. White wooden countertops disappear under the cookies and candies displayed near the cash registers. As your eyes continue to wander, you come across a refrigerator filled with multiple types of feta and Armenian string cheeses, along with plastic containers stuffed with an array of homemade picked radishes, peppers, cauliflowers, and olives. Metal racks are congested with all types of nuts, pickled veggies and grape leaves crammed in jars, Russian wafer cookies, Persian rose water, hearty grains, and delicate crackers. The chips section compares to a rainbow. While some are stuffed into the shelf, others hang off the rods like grapes on a vine. All of this is contained by massive windows that coil around the deli located on the corner of Ventura Blvd and Amigo St.
The large $9.50 pita wrap has remained a specialty for almost fifty years. Vartouhi Chelebian, an Armenian immigrant from Syria, sold the pita wrap at a stand and introduced it to the Los Angeles area in 1972—a time when Mediterranean food was becoming popular. By 1985, the Chelebian family opened a storefront, selling familiar deli sandwiches along with kofta (Middle Eastern meatballs) and baked, spicy eggplant dishes. She built the shop on a foundation of family recipes that remain within the Chelebian clan. The deli resembled a hot potato: no one wanted it to fall on their lap. Vartouhi Chelebian’s children had worked at the deli since the mere age of ten, helping with translating between their immigrant parents and customers. As adults, they had no desire to take over the family business. It was not until Jan Tognozzi (JT) made the decision to take over the deli that the hot potato found open arms. A family business run by a non-family member…not to mention a non-Armenian. How?
Tognozzi has been in the restaurant business for decades and knows the mechanics behind what it takes to keep an establishment alive. He married Vartouhi Chelebian’s eldest daughter, Esther, who used to help out around the shop but later opened up her own hair studio. Tognozzi would help around the deli throughout the 80’s, but eventually Esther’s parents grew old and someone needed to come forward and take initiative as owner.
JT was offered the chance to take over the shop; at a crossroads between his current job and the family business, he chose TAD. He was crowned with the grand task of running the deli to maintain consistency and quality. As he continued to immerse himself within the Armenian community, JT found himself adopting Armenian words and mannerisms into his daily life. The middle-aged man pronounces kofta and basturma with such confidence, for an instant it seems like he is from the Armenian highlands.
Throughout the fifty years of operation, multiple locations have opened up and closed down; the only survivor being the Tarzana location. Much like the persecuted ancestors of the Armenian people, the deli perseveres to survive. With multiple restaurants and chains closing down on Ventura Blvd, fear surges throughout the community for the small business. The Armenian and Israeli locals, in particular, come to Tarzana Armenian Deli for the food and the familial environment.
“We are almost like a family. People feel so comfortable here and see the same faces for many years. We know half the people’s sandwiches by heart,” says Tognozzi.
Thousands of Armenians immigrated to the San Fernando Valley in the mid-twentieth century. Finding refuge from the violence of the Middle East, they poured into the Southern Californian Valley, reviving the strength of an almost obliterated people. The sandwich shop remains a symbol of the survival of a culture. The deli has been passed down for generations, much like the ritual of eating at the establishment. My grandfather would take my father, and my father took me. I can only hope that, one day, I will have the opportunity to continue the tradition with my children in order to instill pride for their people and cultural comfort in a foreign nation.
“TAD was the place all of us would go to for lunch during senior year. It was our usual spot because it made us feel at-home,” says Ariella Sarkissian, a college student whose high school lunch spot was the deli.
As I walk down Ventura Blvd, I make two observations: the storefronts that are occupied have either been around for decades or are brand new. It has become more difficult to succeed on the strip recently named “Tarzana Safari Walk.” With rent prices skyrocketing and the amount of “For Rent” signs increasing, I can only hope that such a significant component of my fleeting childhood does not meet a similar fate. Tarzana Armenian Deli is a beloved destination for families all over the San Fernando Valley. Once I have made it through the glass doors, three grinning smiles point in my direction as I hear “Hi, nice to see you! The usual?”