Vegetarians don't specialize in sandwiches. Grilled cheese aside, most veggie sandwiches you'll find are mostly inadequate, texturally questionable simulacra that make you long for the real thing: grainy "meatballs," rubbery "turkey," and pork-product imitations that defy description.

Bleu Bistro's veggie BLT, though it does contain the dreaded imitation meat, is defiantly none of the above. A tower of unbuttered, toasted sourdough; cold, perfectly ripe tomatoes; crisp iceberg lettuce; and layers upon layers of marbled, crisply salty "bacon"--the sandwich is not dainty. It's messy and sloppy and so bacony that it has tricked some of the most diehard carnivores I know. The bacon sensation, in fact, is so convincing--right down to the ribbons of "fat"--that said carnivores have expressed concern. "Are you sure you asked for the fake bacon?" they ask. "This tastes real." One night, in a rare bout of self-restraint, I took half my sandwich home to examine in the light of day. The verdict: The "bacon," seen outside Bleu Bistro's dim, red-lit booths, is inarguably fake.

I don't know what hardcore vegetarians would think of this sandwich--my guess is that it might be a little too porcine for their palates--but as far as I, a frequently lapsed vegetarian, am concerned, Bleu's "bacon" strikes an ideal balance between glutinous, anemic soy "chicken" and actual slabs of animal flesh. (The BLT is also more than big enough for two, making it--at $8.95--one of the best sandwich deals in the city.) Served dry with a small bucket of dill mayo, an orangey-sweet, slightly wilted salad, and an utterly superfluous mound of hummus, it's a little too froufrou to pass for a diner-grilled blue-plate special, but it tastes as indulgent and greasy as the real thing.