One bite of Mile End’s Ruth Wilensky sandwich proves definitively that handmade food wins out. It is an homage to  some might say a copy of a famous Montreal sandwich, the Wilensky’s Special. Ruth Wilensky is the matriarch of the family that owns Wilensky’s Light Lunch, a classic deli that once served a full menu, now pared down to just a single menu item: beef salami, bologna and mustard compressed between the griddled halves of an onion-sprinkled roll. Asking for “no mustard” used to cost an extra nickel; now, mustard is compulsory.

The Ruth Wilensky; the pastrami biscuit at Neal’s Deli in Carrboro, N.C.; and the Jimmy’s Special (a Reuben sandwich in which bread is replaced by peppery potato latkes) at Jimmy & Drew’s 28th Street Deli in Boulder, Colo., provide a taste of what a great modern deli  both neo and retro  might serve.

If anything can save the deli single-handedly, it’s pastrami. A Romanian-Jewish-American hybrid of barbecue, basturma (Turkish dried, spiced meat) and corned beef, it is loved by pit masters, salumieri and chefs alike.

Image Mr. Neal’s pastrami plate with local vegetables. Credit... Travis Dove for The New York Times

Mr. Gordon, of Kenny & Zuke’s in Portland, who grew up in Queens, graduated from La Varenne cooking school in France and cooked French food for 30 years before returning to the meaty tastes of his childhood, smokes 2,500 pounds of pastrami a week. “Once I settled down in Portland, Ore., I realized that if I wanted to eat pastrami, I was going to have to make it myself,” he said.

Pastrami, traditionally made from a fatty cut of beef belly called the navel, is not easy to master. It must be brined for days or even weeks, rubbed, smoked, steamed and sliced at the peak of juiciness. The seasonings  coriander, black pepper, salt, sugar, sometimes cumin or fennel seed  must sing in harmony. At each step, attentiveness is required: to the shape of the piece, its fat content and the tendons that run through it. Great slicers have become the stuff of legend: Katz’s and Langer’s, in Los Angeles, are among the only old-school delis that do it by hand. Some feel strongly that the slices should be thick; others, cold-cut thin.

All this means that pastrami fits right into two major contemporary food cults: traditional cured meats and barbecue. Modern cooks are so enamored of meat that even those with no particular connection to delis  like Tom Mylan, of the Meat Hook in Brooklyn; Elizabeth Falkner, of Orson in San Francisco; and Amorette Casaus, of Ardesia in Midtown  now make their own small-batch versions. Jake Dickson, of Dickson’s Farmstand Meats in Chelsea, has developed a spicy lamb version; housemade pastrami pork belly is on the menu at the elegant Aureole in Midtown; and pastrami-style tongue has been spotted at Marlow & Daughters in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.