Hannah Goldfield: Two Brooklyn Spots Devoted to Sandwiches: The New Yorker Has there ever been a better time to eat a sandwich? Recently, a Post reporter wrote a story about her bargain to make three hundred sandwiches in exchange for a marriage proposal from her boyfriend. It went viral. As with a haiku, the strictures for a sandwich are few and straightforward (bread, filling, condiment), the possibilities endless. Glady's, a new restaurant in Crown Heights, opened by several Franny's alums, seems determined to do for the sandwich what Franny's helped to do for pizza, elevating it from pedestrian fast food to something worth sitting down and waiting for. A meal in the airy turquoise dining room might start with a custom cocktail - the Greenwich Sour, flush with bourbon, lemon, Cointreau, and Lambrusco - and then a bowl of sweet pickled beet, radish, fennel, and egg; generous cuts of glistening lamb pastrami with peach mostarda; and whole roasted carrots with guanciale, hazelnuts, and mascarpone. That's a tough act to follow, but the sandwiches hold their own, from the healthy-choice Brocc" Obama, featuring the trendy combination of broccoli and ricotta (plus braised collard greens and mustard vinaigrette), on squishy flauta bread, to the sensory overload of the Abra Kebabra, flatbread stuffed with fatty porchetta, crunchy thrice-cooked French fries, caper mayo, and sweet chili. After devastating damage from Hurricane Sandy, followed by months of crowdsourced fund-raising, Court Street Grocers, the Carroll Gardens sandwich counter and specialty market, has opened a second, much smaller outpost, in Red Hook, devoted to heroes. Whereas many sandwich peddlers (for example, the growing empire No. 7 Sub, which has four locations) misguidedly place a premium on shock value (braised short ribs, green peppers, and grape jelly, anyone?), the Hero Shop makes sandwiches that are simply the best versions of themselves. The soppressata in its Italian combo - cured meats, three cheeses, arugula, "CSG Hoagie spread" - is not the finest that money can buy, but it's the one that tastes best with the other ingredients. The owners, the RISD grads Matt Ross and Eric Finkelstein, tried for years to find the ideal vegetables for a sandwich concept that they called the R.P.R.P. - raw, puréed, roasted, pickled - before settling on zucchini, eggplant, fennel, and onion, respectively, finished with fresh herbs. Now known as the Uncle Chucky, after a particularly generous benefactor, it's a thrilling departure from the usual mush of grilled veggies. But, if a deli is only as good as its egg-and-cheese, Court Street Grocers rules them all with the Mr. Victor: creamy scrambled eggs, melted white Cheddar, arugula, and a split hickory-smoked sausage, on a buttered roll. One of these alone could secure a hand in marriage. ♦