Twenty craft drafts, every pint price-slashed to a low, you-should-probably-have-another cost of $2. A spic-and-span watering hole with a patio and four nice-sized-but-unobtrusive TVs beaming sports - which currently means the summer Olympics. (U.S. freakin' A., right?) A service window commandeered by an elite food-truck chef pumping out gold-medal, deli-influenced grub that's more creative and just plain better than what you get at most delicatessens. This can only mean one thing: It's "Monday Funday" at Woodlands Tavern and Challah is in the house.

Twenty craft drafts, every pint price-slashed to a low, you-should-probably-have-another cost of $2. A spic-and-span watering hole with a patio and four nice-sized-but-unobtrusive TVs beaming sports - which currently means the summer Olympics. (U.S. freakin' A., right?) A service window commandeered by an elite food-truck chef pumping out gold-medal, deli-influenced grub that's more creative and just plain better than what you get at most delicatessens. This can only mean one thing: It's "Monday Funday" at Woodlands Tavern and Challah is in the house.

Actually, although drafts are only discounted to $2 on Mondays, Challah is currently an everyday fixture at Woodlands, and it has been for about three weeks now (kitchen hours: Sunday-Thursday, 4 p.m.-midnight; Friday-Saturday, 4 p.m.-1 a.m.). A recent visit had me hoping it'll never leave.

Unlike many pop-ups, Challah's menu is biggish and professional-looking. And the three items I tried were terrific.

If you're only looking for beer nibbles, you can't beat Greg's Smoked Pastrami Wings ($9 for six whole wings). Attractively served on a wooden board garnished with house-pickled cucumbers, sliced radishes, carrot discs and red onion strands, the wings are incredibly crisp and not one bit greasy. As the salty skin crinkles between your teeth, mild pastrami aromatics and a hint of sweetness play off a potent whiff of smoke that has seeped into the smoke-ring-pink meat underneath. You don't really need the mayo-based Russian dressing on the side, but as chef Catie Randazzo joked upon delivery, "It's Ohio, we like to dip shit into other shit."

Great textures and bold flavors also promote The Gentile ($12) to happy-mouth status. It's a whopping big, surprisingly lean "crispy pork" sandwich on puffy, perfectly toasted bread you might call dark ciabatta. Spicy mustard, fiery little jalapeno rings and bright, pickled red cabbage complete the delicious picture.

I might've saved the best for last: the Loaded Schmaltz Potatoes ($10). It's a mammoth, open-faced Reuben "sandwich" with lotsa long strands of first-rate, homemade corned beef, good melted cheese, warm kraut and squiggles of Russian dressing. What makes it really sing is that, instead of stuck between bread, all of this rests atop addictively crunchy, huge lumps of golden-brown fried potatoes flavored with chicken fat. It's a built-in-side-dish ensemble that's better than most Reubens in town - and it goes great with a $2 beer.