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Nestled amid the sneaker shops, KFCs, and 99-cent stores on a bustling stretch of Crown Heights, this tiny counter kiosk attracts cops on break and weekly regulars who order their usual and wash it down with cans of root beer or Cel-Ray soda. The standout here is the no-frills pastrami sandwich: the meat is warm and tender—boasting a slight sheen and light marbling that hints at its mouth-melting moistness. A thick black rind breaks up the wall of deep pink stacked between slices of standard rye scantily clad in yellow mustard. A lean, crumbly corned beef is also on offer as is a competent brisket that errs on the dry side and isn’t rescued by an oily gravy. Sandwiches can be had in three sizes which avoids the gargantuan sliced-meat monstrosities of some pastrami purveyors, unless that’s what you’re after, in which case, order a large. Delightfully, the fressers are quick to extend a sample and the only downer is a disappointing coleslaw bizarrely featuring relish and bell peppers. Another option: brisket for breakfast—starting the day with a plate of eggs, pancakes and delicious deli meat, is uniquely alluring. — Edna Ishayik