Something to read while you stew over the Jets game.

The sandwich: Beef sausage hero, Ma Peche, 56th bet. 5th and 6th in Manhattan.

The construction: Beef sausage on baguette with jalapeno mustard-relish and fried shallots.

Important background information: My second trip to a Momofuku restaurant in two weeks after never having been to one before — that alone should speak to the quality of the pork buns.

Actually obtaining a sandwich to go from the Midtown installment requires some foresight: You have to order online the day before or on the morning you want your sandwich. After the pork bun experience I knew I had to have one of these, but it took me a while because I never remember lunch until around noon, and by noon it’s too late to order.

It felt cool to order it, like I knew some sort of secret code. But the more I thought about it, the more it seemed like it might be needlessly complicated. Do you have to special order the sausage or something?

What it looks like:

How it tastes: Before I even bit into the beef sausage sandwich I knew it was going to be a letdown after the pork buns. Granted, there are some Hall of Fame sandwiches that would be letdowns after the pork buns, but looking at it — just a sausage sitting atop a mustardy ingredient goo on a piece of French bread — I didn’t feel the same pull I did from the glimmering, fatty pork.

The sausage itself was very good. No flavor stands out besides the obvious sausage flavor, but it’s not overwhelmingly greasy or processed-tasting at all. A good solid, sausagey sausage. And though it was beef, in terms of taste I’d say it seemed more toward the Italian side of the sausage spectrum than the German side. It had a nice snappy casing and was well-prepared.

(I know a guy who worked for a while as a fromagiere — a professional cheese taster in a restaurant. Dude was incredible; I never realized anyone could know so much about cheese. He could taste cheese and, in many cases, identify the county from which it came. I wonder if there’s an equivalent job for sausage. There are so many variations of sausage, it’d be good to have an expert catalog them all in some fashion. I guess, though, there are a lot of bad sausages out there, so it wouldn’t all be glorious.)

The bread itself was fresh and flaky, but it might have been slightly too hearty for a sausage sandwich. This is a matter of taste, of course, but the bread was so thick that you either had to take a huge bite to get bread and sausage together or take smaller bites that were mostly sausage staggered with mostly bread. I’m here for the full package, please.

Same thing is true for the ingredient goo. It was itself delicious — easily the highlight of the sandwich — but it got buried so deep down in the crevice of the bread that it was near-impossible to get a bite of sausage with adequate jalapeno mustard-relish on it.

They say it’s cucumbers, jalapenos and mustard on the menu, for what it’s worth, but obviously I know what mustard and relish taste like combined. And this tastes a lot like that. Those cucumbers must be pickled. Indisputably good, though — I don’t really care what they call it if it’s good. The mustard had a nice bite to it and the relish part added sweetness.

The jalapenos brought a little flavor, but not too much heat. I rectified that with the hot sauce they included on the side. Word is there were crispy fried shallots in there, and if I strain hard I can remember at least a little bit of crunch, but I think most of them were drowned in goo and rendered uncrispy.

In all, it was a collection of really delicious elements and, truth be told, a very good sandwich — some sort of more uppity take on the hot dog, really. It just felt like it had the potential to be much more if they were better distributed or in better proportion. As it was, it was a nice sampling of good flavors but not a single, cohesive, transcendent sandwich.

What it’s worth: Cost $10 and a five-block walk. Probably worth it, though next time I’ve got lunch planned out far enough in advance to order it from Ma Peche, I’ll probably try the banh mi or the noodles.

How it rates: 75 out of 100.

I had heard of the Momofuku restaurants many times before I finally ate at one last week. I really don’t know why. I suspect that they were, for a time, quite trendy, because now when I hear snobby New Yorkers mention them it’s usually with a dismissive snicker, as if they’re somehow not cool now because they were too cool for too long or something.

Whatever. Because I don’t pay much attention one way or the other, I’m not sure that’s the case. My only standard for coolness in eateries is delicious food.

The following sandwich is that, so I will hereby deem the Momofuku Milk Bar incredibly cool. Just a very hip place to hang out if you’re someone that appreciates pork. And a big hat tip to fellow pork enthusiast Alex Belth for dragging me there, and for filling me in with all sorts of inside knowledge about the pork.

The sandwich: Pork buns from Momofuku Milk Bar, 2nd Ave. and 13th St. in Manhattan. I’m told the pork buns are also available in at least one of the other Momofuku restaurants, which are mostly in the same neighborhood.

The construction: Pork belly on a steamed bun with scallions, pickles and hoisin sauce. I added sriracha.

Important background information: These are nothing like the pork buns I had in China, though both are good. Those looked more like dinner rolls, only they had delicious pork stuffed inside. I was sort of expecting that when I heard the term “pork bun” bandied about so often, but, like I said, it worked out OK.

Apropos of almost nothing, in the course of a month in China I learned how to say all of six things in Mandarin Chinese. One of them was roujiamo, or meat sandwich — knowledge that obviously came in handy with street vendors, but took part in a silly exchange with a young Chinese woman in a bar. She smiled at me so I figured I’d try my hand at flirting, and it went something like this (only, you know, in Chinese):

Me: “Hello. I am Ted.”

Her: (Something in Chinese I can’t understand.)

Me: “I am a student.”

Her: (Smiles, more Chinese.)

Me: “Internet cafe.”

Her: (Clear international look of confusion.)

Me: “Meat sandwich.”

Her: (Blank stare.)

Me: “Thank you.”

What it looks like:

How it tastes: Oh, lordy.

You stand up to eat at the Milk Bar, and I had to brace myself on the table after taking a bite out of the first one. Holy hell, that’s good.

And for the second straight week, the amazing sandwich was highlighted by amazing pork. This time it the pork didn’t even need to be breaded and fried — just roasted, and without a lot of seasonings either. I’ve never tasted pork like this before — it was so fatty and tender that in terms of texture it almost seemed like duck. But then it was bursting with amazing pork flavor.

Belth tells me that the pork comes from special, extra-fatty super-pigs bred from other famous amazing pork pigs. Apparently the swine are so coddled that they can distinguish between organic and non-organic feed and refuse to eat the latter. I love that: stubborn, uppity pigs. And I get the last laugh!

The rest of the sandwich is good too: The bun is spongy, sweet and moist, but strong enough to hold the ingredients and preserve sandwich integrity. The pickles aren’t overwhelmingly pickly — more like slightly tangy cucumbers, really. But that’s fine. They add a note of flavor and don’t take away from the pork, which is clearly the prize here.

The hoisin added some sweet flavor and a little additional moisture, though, honestly, I think I could have eaten the pieces of pork on their own and they would have been plenty moist. The scallions were only barely noticeable, but they brought a little more pungency and depth to the whole thing. I went light on the sriracha — especially on my second bun — because I didn’t want it to overwhelm the pork, so it served mostly to make the tastes linger in my mouth a little longer, which was welcome.

But again, it’s all about the pork. I need to meet some of these pigs. I want to go pet them and coddle them myself and show them how much I appreciate what they’ve done for me. Outstanding.

What it’s worth: If you can convince Belth to buy — and he’s a pretty obliging dude — they’ll run you only the cost of subway fare. Otherwise, they’re $9 for an order of two, but you’ll probably want at least three for a meal. Not the world’s cheapest sandwich, but you can tell you’re paying for quality.

How it rates: 95 out of 100. Inner circle Hall of Fame sandwich.