The owners of Rocco’s aren’t joking when they claim two things: they’re New Yorkers from the Bronx and they’re Italian.

Rocco’s already has an established following with their popular Signal Hill deli. But now they’re officially within Long Beach city limits, housing themselves in an East Village Arts District location previously home to a Quizno’s.

What makes Rocco’s solid, though, is their lack of peripherals. Their sandwiches are made with phenomenal ingredients with little need for Subway-style extras—and lack of apology for what they do—they believe they do it well so why complicate it? In fact, they’re beyond a lack of apology.

If you order their sausage or Italian beef sandwich and request tomato sauce and cheese, you need to ask for it “rooned.” They have written directly on their menu in explanation: “Cuz you’re gonna take a perfectly good sandwich and roon it! But we’ll do it. Depending on our mood, we might charge you 75 cents extra cuz we hate doin’ it.”

This is the attitude one should expect coming in. It isn’t unfriendly, contrary to what some claim; it’s simply Italian. It is why Italians have identified so easily with New York (and more shadily with Jersey): you have a point A and point B and the goal is to get there. This is Rocco’s. Don’t know what you want? No need to stand in line and waste the time of those that do. And for this Italian boy whose inner New Yorker seems to always be on a rampage with those who hold up, well, anything, it is refreshingly needed in the Downtown scene.

There is one way to make me deviate away from my no-beef-no-pork health mantra that puts to shame and mocks my heritage: Italian cold cuts. And to make the process even easier, if you add some flavorful heat to those cold cuts, my inner-fatty will come out with a full-fledged force that closely mimics hysteria.

Take, for example, one of my personal favorites, the Hell’s Kitchen. This perfect sandwich (yes, perfect: I can eat this thing daily, have a clogged artery, reawake and eat it in my hospital bed) is simple: hot soppressata (a Southern Italian dry salami), hot coppa (my ultimo weakness: dry-cured pork shoulder seasoned with crushed red pepper and garlic), pepperoni, and provolone with romaine, sliced tomatoes, and a hot pepper spread. Put that on a perfectly created Italian bread—crusty on the outside, delectably chewy on the center—and drizzle some olive oil and balsamic, and my dear friends, you have me mocking vegans in a few seconds flat.

The most beautiful part is two-fold. For one, the heat is not overwhelming for any spice aficionado—and it never should be for good food. The current obsession with all-things-heat, taken a ghost pepper-like, Man Vs. Food extreme where the preference becomes a poisoning of the taste buds rather than a highlight, is not where Rocco’s aims to go. Spice is like salt: it’s meant to complement flavors, not drown them.

Secondly, like every sandwich they have, it isn’t stacked with a pound of meat—because it doesn’t need to be. A sandwich’s bread isn’t just to hold the thing together; there is, shockingly, a flavor component and you want to highlight it as much as you want it to not dominate.

Take the Arthur Avenue, a gorgeously subtle sandwich that highlights the flavory, buttery side of Italian meats with mortadella (think high end, dry bologna with pistachios), Genoa salami, and sweet coppa topped with arugula and a sun-dried tomato spread (a perfect bitter-sweet compliment to the meats).

If you’re downtown or just in need of some Italian loving in your stomach, Rocco’s is not just a recommendation—it’s essential. This is sandwich making.

Rocco’s Deli Italiano is located Downtown at 525 E. 1st St. And also in Signall Hill at 2420 E. 28th St.