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A minimalist sandwich shop seating twenty-five people, Tiny’s is about as unpretentious as a business on the Lower East Side’s boutique row can be. The Rivington Street resident serves its sandwiches in wicker baskets, with plastic cutlery and paper napkins. Fresh ingredients, clean red walls, and a rotating photo exhibit attract a steady stream of LES punks, pre-clubgoers, and book-readers, all generally under thirty. Sandwiches are simply constructed and fall into three categories: poultry, fake poultry (tofu- or grain-based), and cheese-and-vegetable. The true meat options are universally superior, particularly as showcased in the Spicy Rizzak: Stacked with turkey, bacon, sautéed onions, cheddar, and genuinely hot chipotle mayo, it doesn’t succumb to the more timid flavoring you’ll find across the rest of the menu. Huge salads contain the same ingredients as sandwiches, but a heap of greens stands in for bread. Scout troop-worthy desserts—cookies, Rice Krispie treats, and ultra-dense, super-moist, not-to-sweet brownies—are sold prepackaged. — Timothy Cooper

Silly Philly portobello, $10.89