I called my grandmother on Tuesday, two days before her 90th birthday, to ask what she wanted to eat on her special day.

I offered to make her anything. But before I could even suggest juicy pork chops or lasagna or fish and chips (some of her old favorites), without missing a beat she said, “Pastrami. I want a pastrami sandwich. From Brooklyn.”

Ha! I didn’t see that coming.

And then: “Cole slaw. And pickles! Don’t forget the pickles.”

My grandmother grew up in Flatbush, Brooklyn, at a time when I imagine good pastrami sandwiches could be had for a quarter on every block. When watermelon ran down your arms in summertime (and only summertime). When lunch meant a sandwich and coffee eaten from a stool at a luncheonette.

Ok so I’m a little nostalgic.

So I got off the phone with grandma and got to work researching the best possible pastrami in the borough. I emailed old colleagues, scoured the net, and in the end went with my first thought. Not the place on Atlantic in Bed-Stuy, not Junior’s, not even one of the many excellent joints in south Brooklyn.

I’d been wanting to try the Jewish Montreal deli Mile End on Hoyt Street since it first opened last year. I know it’s sort of sacrilege to feed my nostalgic grandma pastrami from a hipsteresque deli whose roots aren’t even in this city. But I’d heard their beef brisket can make the driest mouths water, their homemade pickles can turn a frown upside down, and their bagels…well, that their bagels blow H&H’s out of the Croton Reservoir.

So sue me. I knew Mile End would be good. I knew it was risky going to an old and possibly over-rated deli like Katz who can coast on their good looks.

I ordered the smoked meat sandwich for grandma (their beef brisket pastrami on rye), the 7 and not 14 oz, the beef on weck for myself (roast beef with horseradish), and the “grandpa” for Hope (smoked turkey and mustard). And of course the cole slaw and pickles.

But before we could eat we had to drive ourselves and the meat to Long Island. We were starving. Traffic crawled on the LIE. The smell of brisket taunted us for an hour and a half.

We weren’t in the door of our grandmother’s house 5 minutes before digging in and devouring the juiciest, tastiest deli sandwiches this side of the BQE. My grandmother didn’t care that the owners were from Montreal or that the cole slaw wasn’t slathered in mayo. She was too busy licking spicy mustard off her young fingers.

In the couple years since it’s opened, Roman’s has become a staple of the Fort Greene restaurant scene. It’s the perfect place to have an early Sunday supper catching up with a friend – intimate, comforting, satisfying, Roman’s is that really great joint you always wished for in your neighborhood. You feel a secret pride at having a local spot that serves a daily sour and bitter cocktail and a dark chocolate & sea salt sorbet so good it could almost make you weep.

And it doesn’t make a big deal out of it. It’s not a destination restaurant and that’s precisely what makes you want to go there. It feels local, it feels like it’s all yours, even when you are rubbing elbows at the bar with fifteen others crowded around plates of gnudi or the daily crostini. It doesn’t promise elation or gourmet thrills, so when it delivers – and it usually does – it’s all the more gratifying. That’s the genius behind the Marlow partners – their restaurants insist, “I’m no big deal.” “Oh, hey, try this cicerchie puree with marinated kale, not bad, right?” Non c’è male!

Tonight my friend Sarah and I caught up over shared plates of three courses. The menu changes daily, like at Diner and Marlow & Sons, and the hardest decision is choosing what to eat when you know you may not see that special ever again.

After plenty of hemming and hawing we decided on the bibb head lettuce with a Stracchino cheese dressing and scallions for our first course. The salad was pleasingly bitter – crunchy and fresh with plenty of creamy dressing to coat the greens. For the second course, bucatini with tomatoes, olives, and house-cured tuna – I couldn’t pass up a dish with all my favorite flavors of Rome. For our third course, roasted stone bass with cucumber, farro, and yogurt. The bass had a beautiful brown crust, its richness cut by the cool crispness of the cucumber and runny yogurt. And farro…what is there left to say about farro except I could eat it every day and not miss rice or pasta.

For dessert we shared the pound cake that’s made with ricotta and what has to be corn meal and possibly olive oil, with fresh whipped cream and small, juicy strawberries. (I can’t seem to get enough of strawberries this month – before we know it they’ll be gone from the market and I’ll only have these fond memories to carry me until next year.)

One of my favorite memories from my time in Rome is doing Sunday like the Romans. A good, slow meal with family and friends early in the evening then a long stroll through the piazza, maybe a gelato or a night cap. Fort Greene may be a long way away but tonight I had all the flavors of Rome right in my backyard.