Finally. A $6 sandwich in New York City that is everything I’ve ever wanted: Badass baguette that’s so fresh it talks smack: “Oh yah, what. Bring it.” A serious veggie crunch and bold, fresh flavas that stand up to the succulent, meaty, (in this case porky) protein at its core.
There’s more, nine more banh mi on the menu — lemongrass pork cutlet or shitakke mushroom, anyone? — all priced at either $6 or $7 dollars, NSA.
Ladies and gentlemen, meet Nhà Tôi.
Don’t blink as you walk past this tiny storefront on Havemeyer Street, lest you miss it (inside, it’s almost all kitchen and about a mish-mashed seats). The bi heo sandwich that I had — stuffed with shredded pork and skin with roasted rice powder — trumps any banh mi I’ve had in the city, including Baoguette’s.
This is the kind of food memory that will make the injustices of that crappy, prepackaged salad lunch in Midtown and overpriced UES bodega sandwich — with all due respect, it’s just meat, cheese, shredded iceberg lettuce, watery tomato, raw onion on a passably fresh roll — all the greater.
But Nhà Tôi’s menu doesn’t stop there. Once you get past the sandwiches, there’s a full menu of pho to explore, as well as snacks. On my visit, I was blatantly oggling the crispy spring rolls at the next table (can’t help it, close quarters warrant awkward seating and wafting smells).
… and the drinks? Well, no booze. However, the lineup of canned Southeast Asian beverages strung up on a chord will keep you perennially interested, e.g. basil seed beverage with “creme soda flavour” ($2). What’s it taste like? Says Nhà Tôi chef/owner Fred, “Well, I grew up with it. So I love it. But there’s definitely a certain texture to it.“
So how does Nhà Tôi keep their prices down? I’d guess from low overhead costs. In addition to being tiny, there’s only one menu, on a sheet of 8 1/2″ x 11″ paper, full of Sharpie cross-outs and tacked-on additions.
Why not print more? Not sure … that’s between a man and his laser jet. I’ll be back to Nhà Tôi in a split second, but I’m not going there.
Nhà Tôi, 160 Havemeyer St., nr. S. 2nd St., 718-599-1820. Cash only.
(verdict: excellent)
I’m generally a light-on-the-dressing sort of girl, but this much lettuce has got to have something. If I had a bottle of dressing at my desk I would have given the greens a quick toss and rebuilt the sandwich.
$2 PBJ. It might not be so miraculous except that I just don’t/can’t make sandwiches like that anymore.
So what a delight to discover that 
Just look at it there in the case: That gorgeous seeded bread, such a welcome departure from the offerings at so many delis and sandwich shops in the neighborhood. Thick slices of turkey, crisp bacon. 
opened earlier this year, each time wondering the same thing. As far as I can tell, other than being a little negligent on printing up or posting an official menu with prices — there are no prices or descriptions posted anywhere, which makes me feel a little weird because I’m constantly asking questions — Artichoke Cafe appears to be doing moderately well at offering affordable lunch fare that tends towards the healthful — pick-your-ingredient salads, sandwiches, paninis, a rotating selection of hot entrees, a juice bar — without being overbearing about it.
Here’s where Artichoke Cafe’s healthful tendencies veer off-track: The bacon was not bacon. It might be turkey bacon or mock bacon, I’m not sure, but definitely not regular bacon. I love a lot of veggie fare, but mock meat isn’t one of them. By all means, use mock bacon. Just let your customers know. 
Hot damn, that Wiener Schnitzel sandwich made such a good breakfast. All I wanted, exactly: good source of protein, on some sort of bread/roll, spicy mustard. (Spicy mustard in the morning is a real kick-start.) 
Lunch today is a perfect, self-contained example of how I investigate, how my online connections influence my real-life decisions, and vice versus. The ebb and flow between virtual and actual.
The Times’ blog doesn’t mention anything about the sandwiches other than that they were there, so I headed for the Port Authority still missing pieces to the puzzle. (The post also failed to mention that the greenmarket is in the smaller, northern terminal of the P.A., the part north of W. 41st Street. That could have been useful.)
This week’s version: roasted zucchini, pickled radish slices and romaine lettuce, on a sunflower-seeded bread, both slices smeared with a creamy, spreadable quark cheese with bits of roasted onion, probably shallots. Not exactly your heartiest sandwich, but soul-satisfying in that get-out-of-the-city, country picnic sort of way. I swear you can taste the fresh air.
The sandwiches are $6.50 alone, or, for $8.50, pair it with a Katchkie Farm Thunder Pickle — they start off deceptively bread-and-butter-pickle sweet, but finish with a kick of heat, not for the faint of heart — and a glass of Katchkie Farm’s spearmint basil iced tea, which might just be the perfect elixer for a hot summer day, when it ever gets hot.
That sounds like comfort food, yes? In no way was I prepared for the in-your-face, garlic-y, pungent, cheesy taste sensation that threw my delicate tastebuds into serious sensory overload, so much so that for a few minutes I contemplated giving up and trying again, in search of something a little more … balanced. How could I have gone so wrong in my menu ordering? In not specifying my preference of cheese (provolone, sharp or mild), the sharp cheese was added by default, which only compounded the intensity of flavor: garlic-y broccoli rabe, spicy au jus, sharp provolone. Wow.
I think 
Not exactly a sandwich bread — the ciabattine turned out to be a little tough, would have made excellent olive oil dipping bread — I was so excited about the rosemary I could see caught in its crevices (the ciabattine) that I bought it anyway. 
… Back on track now. The ciabattine still served its purpose as the basis for my brie, basil and strawberry sandwich, which is a trifecta I would repeat any day, although maybe next time on a softer roll.
It’s so perfectly New York. The gorgeous smoked fish, the chocolate-dipped everything, the cheeses, the fresh-squeezed juice and premium dried fruits — makes me look at the rain outside and get impatient for summer and park picnics and all the good food and merriment that goes hand-in-hand. 
I love the “Super Heeb” sandwich, which is horseradish creme cheese, whitefish salad and wasabi-flavored roe that are both so pretty and green and crunch so squeakily and give the whole thing a nice kick.
