Few natural wonders are as awe-inspiring and spectacular as the chalky White Cliffs of Dover on the English coast. Only for a short while are those bright white, natural geological formations visible as you’re sailing away toward France on a cross-channel ferry. Instead, as you depart from Dover’s busy port, you’re treated to an increasingly receding facade as the 350-foot chalk faces dim, their bright white geological features vividly reflecting moonlight. That’s the view I remember most from my first English crossing some 21 miles away from France. Along with a busful of eager passengers, we were bound for Calais, the closest point in France to Great Britain. For the Germans, that made it the most logical and heavily fortified location for an Allied invasion.
Our “invasion” wasn’t to visit wartime sights most of which are some 230 miles east at Normandy D-Day landing beaches (such as Omaha and Juno). Our excursion was much more peaceful (although not necessarily quiet). We were bound for Auchan, a well-stocked hypermarket (a massive retail establishment that combines a supermarket and a department store under one roof) in Bolulogne-Sur-Mer. Auchon was reputed to be the ideal place to purchase French wines, cheese and freshly baked pastries. Designed as a “one-stop shop,” Auchon offers everything from fresh groceries and household goods to clothing, electronics, and furniture, allowing consumers to complete all their shopping at once.
Memories of my first visit to “the continent” are still as vivid as memories can be nearly forty years later. What then-twenty-year-old could ever forget gawking at aisles of television depicting nudity? It was my introduction to the liberality of French culture where nudity is considered a natural state rather than a taboo. Even more than nudity, what I remember most is the vast selection of delicious foods. They were well-organized and inviting. Especially beguiling was the boulangerie, a traditional French bakery that specializes in daily baked breads, croissants, and rolls. As a budding turophie, I spent quite a bit of time at the fromagerie where aisles of whole or in large, uncut wedges of cheeses beckoned. Our return trip–this time with an evening crossing–gave us equally stunning views of the cliffs though with bottles of French wine being consumed, some passengers probably don’t remember.
Memories of French hypermarkets flooded back during my inaugural visit to Little Europe, a mini-market within the sprawling (but still much smaller than Auchan) Sawmill Market. Little Europe occupies a mere 1,100 square feet of space inside Sawmill, but it’s so well organized and attractive that comparisons are warranted to the food markets in France. My dear friend and Air Force colleague John Holmes-Bennett and I were perusing New Mexico’s first food hall, looking for something to eat when Little Europe’s owner Vincenzo Brigante noticed our interest. With the aplomb of P.T. Barnum, he explained Little Europe’s concept and practically had us drooling at his descriptions of its culinary offerings.
“Little Europe,” he told us “offers everything from traditional European entrees to deli sandwiches, salads, Bavarian pretzels, artisanal breads, charcuterie boards, Spanish-style cheesecakes and a selection of nonalcoholic beverages.” Perhaps assuming two burly guys like us were more apt to want sandwiches instead of salads, he focused on sandwich choices–each constructed with meats and condiments on panini. Sandwiches are on display within a glass-encased deli case. Their enormity is somewhat diminished after the panini press is done with them, but you can’t call these sandwiches small. Vincenzo recommended we order two sandwiches and enjoy half of each.
The French dip (French dip roast beef, Swiss, and truffle aioli with French onion soup for dipping) was easily our favorite. Yeah, you can get a French dip at any purveyor of panini, but usually often their commonality is just how boring they are. That’s absolutely not the case with Little Europe’s rendition. Layers of succulent roast beef, fresh tomatoes, melty Swiss and a herbaceous pesto on a crispy panini canvas alone would have made it a great sandwich, but the real bombshell revelation was the au jus (described on the menu as “French onion soup.” Indeed, it has all the qualiies of a great French onion soup where the onions are cooked down in white wine significantly and puréed into a thick, luxurious onion base. It makes a wonderful dip but you’ll also find yourself slurping it up.
The other sandwich we split was the Mortadella Panini (ciabatta with pesto, mortadella, burrata, tomato, and balsamic). If you’re of the mind that mortadella is just another term for bologna, you might be surprise just how much better mortadella can be. Think of it as the ultra-premium, silky ancestor of American bologna. Indeed, mortadella tastes like a richer, more luxurious, and warmly spiced version of traditional bologna. It’s an authentic Italian cured meat featuring a delicate, porky flavor with aromatic hints of garlic, coriander, black pepper, and myrtle berries, finished with a smooth, melt-in-your-mouth texture. Oscar Mayer has nothing on mortadella…and there’s no sandwich in Albuquerque like it. For an additional treat, dip it into the French onion dip.
As with the European continent, there’s so much to explore at Little Europe, a bit of the continent in Albuquerque.
Little Europe
1909 Bellamah Avenue, N.W. (Sawmill Market)
Albuquerque, New Mexico
(505) 498-2982
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LATEST VISIT: 19 May 2026
# OF VISITS: 1
RATING: N/R
COST: $$$
BEST BET: Mortadella Panini, French Dip
REVIEW #1523