Aug. 26 (Bloomberg) -- Summer’s almost over in New York. It’s hot, I’m cranky and I’m tired of fancy food. I just want a sandwich.

What I don’t want is a hamburger -- not these days, with its rising prices and Ralph Lauren-like “Black Label” blends. And I don’t want a lobster roll. My rule: Anything over $20 doesn’t count. I want simple and I want cheap.

Big names like Danny Meyer, Will Goldfarb and Angelo Sosa feel my pain. They’ve all opened sandwich spots this year as the economic downturn continues. I’ve sampled them all.

First, a disclaimer: This is not a “best of” list. I love my sammies but some of the ones I tried weren’t very good at all. And I’m hesitant to apply superlatives to a class of food basically designed to tide me over until dinner or cure a hangover. Trick it up with foie gras, stuff it with truffles, a sandwich is still a sandwich.

Now, down to business.

Picnick Smoked. Will Goldfarb’s orthographically challenged barbecue cart on Wall Street breaks not just the rules of spelling but also of speed, crucial during short lunch breaks. I waited an hour in the hot sun for pulled pork on a baguette. A fellow patron contemplated stealing one of Picnick’s checkered tablecloths to wear as a heat-deflecting kafiya.

Advice: Arrive well before noon for five-minute service.

Picnick’s yellow cart reads: “Good for you BBQ” and unless that’s snake oil dripping down my chin and not beef fat, I feel pretty safe refuting that claim. Barbecue is bad for you. Goldfarb’s meats taste blissfully bad, and that’s good.

The pork ($6.50) and wagyu brisket ($8.50) are intensely smoky. They sit atop chewy, garlicky baguettes. The beef, which often sells out before 1 p.m., boasts burnt ends and holds together like a moist accordion. Better than any version I’ve had at Hill Country.

Just one thing. Goldfarb, an El Bulli trained avant-gardist who’s apparently working on liquid nitrogen milkshakes for Picnick, needs to master his NaCl. The meats lack salt. On the other hand, Goldfarb’s potato salad is one of the city’s best. Each knob tastes as though it’s been coated with a tablespoon of sour cream.

Picnick Smoked is at Wall Street near Water Street. Information: http://www.mypicnick.com.

Dante’s Lobster

Xie Xie. I learned the correct pronunciation, “shay shay,” by logging onto the Web site and listening to this Hell’s Kitchen sandwichery’s theme song. A female vocalist breathily aspirates “Xie Xie” against a background of giggling babies.

Rule: Sandwich shops shouldn’t have theme songs, especially ones that are better-produced than the food within. Sosa, who’s consulted at Buddakan, gives us a tiny restaurant with a tiny menu of five sandwiches. Music thumps at irritating levels. A nearby couple dined with a caged pet bird.

Vietnamese barbecue beef included a mouth-stretching slab of tender protein, but had insufficient acid to offset the fatty cut. Same problem with the tilapia chaca la vong -- rich fish, no tart bite, and no pickles on the side to pick up the slack.

The $14 lobster roll should cost $3. Sosa’s version shouldn’t be allowed to call itself a lobster roll. It’s closer to a shredded mess of imitation crab meat that tastes as if it’s been coated in sugar. Stick with the excellent ice-cream sandwich (with a black caramel interior) and boxed sangria.

Xie Xie is at 645A Ninth Ave. Information: +1-212-265-2975; http://www.xiexieproject.com

Public Outrage

Public Fare, Danny Meyer’s outdoor concession stand at the Delacorte Theater in Central Park, serves a BLT, a quintessentially unhealthy American sandwich. It typically consists of crispy bacon, cool crispier lettuce, runny tomatoes, mayonnaise that’s even runnier and warmly toasted white bread. It’s a sublime contrast of texture and temperature.

This was not the case at Public Fare, at least on my single visit. The bread was insufficiently toasted. The tomato was underripe. The lettuce was not crispy. It’s no different from any other mediocre BLT being served at any corner deli, yet this one bears the stamp of Meyer, one of New York’s best restaurateurs. The tomato tartine was an example of what happens when a chef decides he’d like to no longer cook with salt. Matzoh has more flavor.

The right call here is the well-made root beer float.

Public Fare is at the Delacorte Theater, in Central Park near W. 81st St. Information: +1-646-747-5354.

The Violators

The sandwich, especially at fancier venues, is usually relegated to lunch. And unlike the ingratiating burger (which holds court on dinner menus) the sandwich is largely spared the ignominy of having truffles and duck liver added to it.

There are two infamous exceptions. BLT Steak serves a foie gras and kobe skirt steak BLT ($28). It’s only available at lunch (which strikes me as weird for a restaurant called BLT). It’s a stupendously messy, crunchy, beefy, livery sandwich. I love it. If only there was more sweet foie.

And there’s the truffled grilled cheese sandwich ($30) at Gilt’s new outdoor lounge. It’s called the Gossip Grill. It’s inspired by a dish served on the “Gossip Girl” television show. Expect dry, dense, doughy, underseasoned slabs of white bread, with forgettable fontina cheese and almost no truffle flavor.

It’s the worst sandwich I’ve had in a long time. That says a lot, given Gilt’s two Michelin stars.

BLT Steak is at 106 E. 57th St. Information: +1-212-752- 7470; http://www.bltsteak.com. Gilt is at Madison Avenue and 50th Street. Information: +1-212-891-8100; http://www.giltnewyork.com.

The Savior

Baoguette Cafe. Open since April on St. Marks Place, the a/c wheezes and they don’t take plastic. You will see flies. Big ones.

It’s all the work of Michael “Bao” Huynh.

The menu poses an important question: “You lika spicy?”

The correct answer is yes. That’s how you should order the banh mi sandwich ($5), an everything-but-the-kitchen-sink staple of Vietnamese street fare. That means a French-Asian mix of terrine, pork pate, char siu pork, pickled carrots, mayo, spicy jalapeno and cilantro all on a fresh toasted baguette.

I’ve consumed four of them this week.

No alcohol served here. If you’re eating something this heavy, you’ve probably had enough to drink. Instead, there’s Vietnamese iced coffee. I had one at 11 p.m. and promptly fell asleep at 4:30 a.m.

For dessert, consider the durian ice cream, made from a Southeast Asian fruit that smells so bad its consumption is banned on public transportation in Singapore. You won’t consume it here either. The ice cream machine’s been broken for a month, I’m told.

Baoguette is at 37 St. Marks Pl. near Second Avenue. Information: +1-212-380-1487 or http://www.baoguettecafe.com. There are other locations in Murray Hill and the West Village.

The Bloomberg Questions

Cost? Under $15 at all except Gilt and BLT.

Sound level? Open-air at most, so moderate.

Date places? The outdoor ones are breakup places.

Inside tip? Cash only at Baoguette and Picnick Smoked.

Special feature? Stellar ice cream sandwich at Xie Xie.

Will I be back? To Baoguette and Picnick Smoked.

(Ryan Sutton writes about New York City restaurants for Bloomberg News. The opinions expressed are his own.)

To contact the writer of this column: Ryan Sutton in New York at rsutton1@bloomberg.net.

Last Updated: August 26, 2009 00:00 EDT