The best thing since sliced bread

``We've been busy at lunch," says Economides, his Red Sox cap tight against dark sideburns. ``And last night, too." He smiles and stops to confer with one of the cooks. ``We're pretty busy all day long."

``It's a double-edged sword a little bit," says Schlesinger, a veteran of the Boston restaurant scene who has owned East Coast Grill & Raw Bar down the street for more than 20 years.

Schlesinger pulls out a sheet of paper filled with to-do lists. Is he having fun? He shrugs as he fidgets, worrying aloud about silverware that isn't right; music that's too loud; typos that mar the menu. The owners have yet to figure out how long it takes to make a sandwich, and Schlesinger frets that customers have no designated spot to pick up carry-out orders. But his partner, who is 30, flashes a weary smile. ``I'm having fun," says Economides, who adds he hasn't slept much lately, a fact underscored by dark circles under his eyes.

``That's the reason for having a young partner," says Schlesinger, 50, pushing his glasses up on his forehead.

A sandwich shop made sense, he says, when they asked themselves what the neighborhood along Cambridge Street, a veritable restaurant row, might need after the owners of Cafe China, which had been in the corner spot at Prospect Street for almost three decades, decided to close.

It's obvious as the two talk, though, that the impetus was mostly personal: These guys like sandwiches.

The form -- meat, fish, cheese, and/or vegetables between two pieces of bread -- is an ancient means of conveying food into the mouth. Though the origin is older, the name is credited to the fourth Earl of Sandwich, who in the late 18th century is said to have asked for salt beef between toasted bread to sustain him through a night of gambling. ``That's the one we're sticking with," says Schlesinger, pointing to the definition artfully printed on the wall above the cash register.