Tiny, enchanting Eisenberg's Sandwich Shop is almost too perfectly cast in the role of a Manhattan diner—its narrow space clad in artfully distressed Formica and chrome, with a counter (state-of-the-art circa 1930) running almost the entire length. How someone labored to make those daily-special signs so homey, so authentic! And the supporting players are, to a person, sublime: waitresses as tough as nails, yet tender as the superlative matzo balls they dish out, and grill men (who mostly resemble refugees from Sturges films) that you wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley—unless they were delivering one of Eisenberg's pitch-perfect lime rickeys to you. Avoid the fussy Flatiron-district business-lunchers during the weekday rush and instead take possession of a counter seat or a coveted two-top along the wall on a lazy Saturday afternoon, then finish that script—real or imaginary, on your laptop or in your head.