I was back at Langer’s two weeks ago and its hot pastrami is still far and away the best, though maybe not for all the reasons Ephron cited. Hand-slicing may be a big part of Langer’s lore, as seen in the paintings of the late Al Langer on the back wall, but I no longer see it as a secret to its sandwich’s greatness. Mine was assembled with the machine-cut slices you see above and it was outstanding. There were no meat crumbs or scraps to be seen – only thick, moist, extra fatty, deep-pink slices of perfect pastrami steamed to the point of near collapse. The rye bread is no longer from the fabled Fred’s (now it is from Bea’s Bakery), yet it too is as good as ever. The interior is wonderfully chewy and its crust is actually a crust: You don’t tug on it with your teeth, as you must with most other ryes. You crush it with your teeth. The Langer’s pastrami is in fact a double-crusted sandwich with a wonderful play of contrasting textures. Beneath the noisy rye, the impossibly tender meat is itself encrusted in its cracked pepper and spice rub.

So apart from the great rye bread and the superbly fatty cut of brisket (probably the point cut or “deckel”) I can’t explain what makes Langer’s the best. I can’t even defend my insistence on applying mustard. If pastrami has a more complex set of flavors than nearly any other food and Langer’s has better flavors than every other pastrami, why camouflage it with a condiment?