BEST PRICE ON REFRIGERATORS

Cue a little 1980s-era Survivor music, "The Search is Over..."

In graduate school, a friend and I decided that to pay our outrageous student loan bills, we would write a coffee table book on the seriously under-loved cardiac inducing Reuben sandwich. We envisioned a girls-only road trip across the U.S. searching for the perfect Reuben based on our carefully considered criteria. Fast forward 8 years later and the book, and more sadly the trip, never happened. But, we've both kept eating Reuben sandwiches. Well, stop the clock. I have found the perfect Reuben at David's Delicatessen in San Francisco. Behold, perfection.

You're looking at the world's (or at least the U.S.'s) most perfect Reuben sandwich.

Although the book never came to fruition, I have eaten my way across the United States, regularly testing out the quality of Reubens. I consider a Reuben perfect travel food. It's so unhealthy, I would never normally eat it (plus, the meatiness of it offends my normally more vegetarian-leaning palate), but it falls nicely into the category of "vacation food"--eating stuff you would never eat at home! For some people, vacation food is license to gorge on dessert. For me, it's a Reuben.

Now look, I know what you're thinking "you live in New York. You couldn't find a perfect Reuben closer to home?" Well, frankly, no. The remaining New York delis are overrated, ridiculously expensive, and seem to cater to the facile notion that "more" is "better." They are banking on tourist nostalgia and the ever-burgeoning American waistline.

At one New York establishment, I had to have been served the equivalent of a whole cow and was charged almost $30.00 for it (okay, pretty cheap for a whole cow, but pretty expensive for A SANDWICH). I just wanted a nice little Reuben sandwich. Not to mention that many of the delis are Kosher, so you can't have meat and cheese mixed. Carnegie, Katz's, Stage, Ben's: I've done them all. And, some of them have an okay good Reuben. But, none of them have the perfect Reuben sandwich.

Enter David's Delicatessen. The restaurant has seen better days. It's a throwback to a 1940s era deli. We ate at the counter and the whole thing had a historical feel. I've read some reviews which trash the restaurant for being expensive and dirty. Now, I'm a New Yorker, so when people throw around the word "expensive," they better know what they're talking about. They don't. We paid half the price for our meal at David's what we have paid at iconic New York delis. Dirty? Sure, in that diner/deli/old school kind of way. It adds some charm to the experience. If I'm looking for fine dining, I'm not usually eating a Reuben, if you know what I mean. I think a little grunge adds to the overall ambiance of actually giving yourself permission to eat something like a Reuben. It's one of those guilty little pleasures that feels like breaking some cardinal rule. So, a little grunge is good.

So, onto perfection. The ingredients:

* Corned Beef (pastrami-eating Reuben posers, get lost! Corned beef is the real thing!)
* Sauerkraut
* Swiss Cheese
* Thousand Island Dressing
* Grilled Challah Bread

Okay, for starters: all of the ingredients must be fresh. Serving musty old corned beef with a hunk of "refrigerator smell" swiss, is not acceptable. Nor is day old bread or, the worst, Thousand Island dressing served on the side with a suspicious crust like pudding skin. When I say fresh, people, I mean fresh.

Next, many restaurants take egregious short cuts, like substituting different kinds of meat and cheese. Another terrible Reuben faux pas is serving the sandwich without sauerkraut. Equally egregious is delivering it without Thousand Island dressing. Equally egregious is the following combination: one slice of corned beef, one slice of cheese, and anemic amounts of the other ingredients. The perfect Reuben is a balance of all of the ingredients in copious, but not overwhelming amounts. There might not be anything more culinarily offensive than an anorexic Reuben sandwich, the likes of which you have seen at diners around America. In fact, the wikipedia entry for "Reuben sandwich" features two of the most anemic looking Reubens I've ever seen.

A note on the bread: the traditional Reuben is served on rye bread. However, David's offered me a choice of challah or rye. I actually despise rye, so I chose challah. The slightly sweet taste of the egg bread really added something to the sandwich. But, whether it's challah or rye, the secret to the bread is two-fold: first, it must be thick enough to actually support the whole sandwich. Many restaurants use cheap, mass produced bread that is flavorless and fiber less that wilts underneath the almighty power of the Reuben, so that after the first bite you have a disgusting pile of slop that you have to eat with a fork. This is gross. At David's, the thickness of the bread was perfect! Secondly, all bread

Montana the Cat, and more recently His Royal Highness, Montana de Montecore (because he does tricks). I adopted him from a humane society when he was 2 and half years old. I have had him 5 years, my first cat in a long time, and my first ever, mostly all indoor cat. He does get out once in awhile. He is pretty smart, and friendly and soft. (Note: I changed 2 years to 5 years now that I have had him, because some time has passed since I wrote this.

Note to Pets in Profile group; if this isn't enough of a profile shot, let me know and I'll remove it. OK?

On April 8, 2006 I posted in a thread in the Cats and Windows group about how my cat came into my life. I spent enough time on it, that I thought I should save it here too.
I hadn't lived anywhere where I was allowed to have a cat or dog for years. I got assaulted, not by a man, like you might think, but by a crazy methamphetamine addicted woman. She was also very drunk. She pulled and pushed me to the ground, got on top of me, and viciously bit my face, among other things, and it was horrible. I needed to move away and get a safer place to live. The new place I found did not allow dogs, which is what I thought I wanted, but they would allow cats for $100 deposit each. That was a lot of money to come up with for me, plus the adoption fee at the humane society. I really felt I needed to give and receive love from a pet. I went there (the same one I still go to and photograph lots of cats) and their normal fee of $80 had been cut in half if I would choose an all black or a black and white cat. I tried to choose from those colors, and a pretty all black one bit me a little bit. I didn't like that. I went to the next cage, and he was black and white. I reached in with a couple of fingers and tried to pet him, and he won my heart. He scootched over to the cage bars so that every possible inch of him that could fit there would be available for petting. I took him out and he was calm in my lap. He was not quite 12 pounds, a big boy. We liked each other; so I got him. The $40 I had to pay covered that he had been neutered (after two and half years of being a tomcat), and shots and first vet exam, and coupons at the local pet store. I took him for his first vet exam, and he was friendly and calm and purring so loud the vet could hardly hear his heart. She said he was a wonderful big old boy and she loved him. She was the one who had neutered him. I digress. His name when I got him was Beeker. I really didn't care for that much. I thought that had been his name for 2 1/2 years, but it turned out his name was Button, and they had another cat named Button at the time and couldn't have duplicates. I thought about calling him Sailor because he was on "Sale", but that didn't stick. I decided that Montana means mountain, and he was indeed a mountain of fluff (not really long hair, just medium and soft). Montana seemed like just the right name for him. Later after he taught himself one trick, and then I taught him another, I decided he should have a fancier name (just for fun). I call him His Royal Highness, Montana de Montecore. He can jump through a ring of fire (well, it is a hoop with red cellophane flames) from one chair to another to get a teaspoon of rootbeer float, or blueberry cheesecake soda. I don't like to give him too much. All I have to do now is go to the refrigerator and he goes and sits on a chair waiting to do his trick. He also likes cream of mushroom soup. Go figure. He is a 90% indoor cat, but he does get out sometimes. I bet the lady who gave him up never figured that he would be instantly recognized on Flickr and Fotolog, by many, many people all over the world. And to think I got him on a half-price sale. He is a faithful companion. There are probably a lot of little Montana Jrs. in his old neighborhood from before he was neutered. Delina (with a long i sound)

He hit #24 today (Feb. 12, 2007 on Flickr Explore, and I was thinking that was the best he ever got, but my records show at one time he was number 9) I'm excited anyway.
(007montanatusquared4flickr)