Despite the fact the staff’s English is about as good as my Spanish, I actually managed to order what turned out to be one of the better deals in the city. The first time I ordered the $3.50 Argentinean chicken sandwich I ended up going back to my office with an order of shrimp fra diablo (which turned out to be the most expensive thing on their menu). They were, to put it mildly, a little confused. At first I was a little pissed at getting the wrong order, but soon my anger turned to joy as I gulped the spicy delight. I went back again–being sure not to go back too soon as to be remembered as the guy who made nine dollars on his last order–and ordered the chicken again. They screwed up the toppings, but I got my chicken sandwich this time. They took a little while to get everything cooked, so I looked around at all the empty tables, the Argentinean posters, the many knick-knacks and the dour man who tries to hand menus to passersby. Quite fascinating. I finally got back to the office and opened my pungent sandwich (much to the dismay of my co-workers). The thing is big! And it’s good! They actually bothered to spice the chicken, toast the roll and make me cry with glee that there is still a place in this city where my money is still well spent. [MF]

344 W 52nd St.