The scene outside Zigolini's

Are chains really that bad? That’s what I was asking myself as the man at one of the Financier coffee shops gave me an angelic smile and extra complimentary cookies. Having already followed the subway to Brooklyn, Queens and the Bronx, I realized that I had been neglecting the lowly isle of Manhattan. There are, indeed, ends of subway lines there, like the J and Z station on Broad St. in the financial district. But I’d been avoiding it up to now, because I knew all too well the proliferation of higher-grade fast food joints in any area of Manhattan where lots of people work. Pret A Manger, Potbelly’s, Cosi, Dean and Deluca—it’s not hard to see why places like this thrive here. They’re tasty, fast, efficient, and the best of them seem wholesome enough not to kill you even if you eat it fairly frequently. But if it was going to be a real end of the line experience, Financier just wasn’t going to cut it. I wanted to see where the more discerning regulars went.

Maybe it was the overwhelmingly crowded and fast-paced atmosphere on Broad Street, maybe it was just my mood, but I found myself following a different protocol than usual—I started to spy on people. It was fun to lurk behind unsuspecting men like some sort of iced tea-swigging and restaurant-obsessed femme fatale. Here are some observations I made about the young businessmen in the financial district: They almost always travel in groups of three. They wear button-up shirts in complementary pastel shades. And they use their hands a lot as they discuss car insurance and how much they hate their coworkers.

Ahoy! Lobster off the starboard scaffolding!

I tailed my first group of three a few blocks to Luke’s Lobster on William Street, which was packed but void of vegetarian options. The second group that I followed seemed indecisive, wandering aimlessly until they ducked, somewhat reluctantly, into an Irish pub. I wasn’t convinced. The third group walked with purpose, and I thought I’d found my in, but they led me…straight back to Luke’s! What was it about that place? Just as I was beginning to think that I was going to have to nibble on coleslaw and watch other people eat lobster, a fourth group led me to the door of Zigolini’s.

Zigolini’s is a posh sit-down restaurant, but they also run a deli out of the adjoining storefront, and the line was out the door, so I joined the throng. One thing that I love about businesspeople is that they’re delightfully easy to eavesdrop upon. “This place is great!” one guy said. “And not bad prices, especially for this neighborhood. I don’t know about the service, though.” At this point, the largest and meanest-looking of the sandwich makers leered at us so menacingly it was almost comic. “Yeah,” the first guy’s friend said. “Kind of a bad attitude thing.”

More eggplant than a girl could hope for.

Bad attitude or no, my fried eggplant sandwich was quickly prepared. It was also mammoth. When I retired to a park bench to eat it, I wasn’t wild about the hero roll, and longed for something crustier that could stand up to the marinara sauce without getting soggy. But the filling was heavenly, with lots of provolone cheese and breaded eggplant so tender that it fell apart on my tongue. For anyone having a bad day at the office, this was the kind of comfort food that a chain restaurant could never muster.

Zigolini’s. 66 Pearl Street, New York, NY 10004. (212) 425-3127.

Want me to take you to lunch? Send your End of the Line suggestions to Submissions@Pitchknives.com.