And the hot pastrami sandwiches aren't too bad either. I came here tonight because I've recently noticed how many chunks of New York have gone missing. Entire neighbourhoods have changed beyond recognition: Hell's Kitchen is no longer Irish, Yorkville no longer German, The Lower East Side no longer kosher.
I was half expecting to arrive at the corner of East Houston and Ludlow and find the place gone, another pharmacy or Bank of America taking its place. But it's still there, a great big neon dinosaur in the Land the Health Inspectors Forgot. A Bewleys for ravenous carnivores.
The pastrami on rye gets delivered and it's a two-handed job to hold it. Some French tourists at the table beside me take photographs of their meal: A giant plate of what looks like corned beef hash with an egg on top.
They seem troubled, perhaps even disgusted. I'm thinking of all the crap I ate when I lived in Normandy: Pig's nose and donkey's tongue. Yes, Pierre and Marie-Claire, what goes around, comes around. Bon appetit!