The sandwiches at Slymans resemble a greater-than math symbol. Incredible amounts of deli meat between two slices of fatty, crispy rye.
Often times, at home or at a sub-par deli, pastrami is in need of huge dollops of condiments to mask bone dry deli meats.
Ask for a corned beef and pastrami off the grill from Slymans. It’s as juicy as a perfectly cooked steak, and the main culprit for this perfect concoction is the fatty sometimes lean pastrami.
Juices flow with each bite. In a sense of personal euphoria, pastrami juice had been dripping without my knowledge over my Banana Republic jeans like a faucet leak.
It’s the only time to look good among strangers tackling a sandwich like a competitive eater.
No one will judge. That’s because no one is looking. To eat any sandwich at Slymans requires precision and focus.