DB

I have not met another Reuben before. But, I was familiar with the word.

I knew that it was a type of sandwich. Being a sandwich, I figure that this thing most likely has meat. I was thinking that it had some sort of cured meat, or perhaps corned beef… that sort of sandwich. You know, a humble thing. One of those things that fits between two pieces of bread and that’s wrapped in plastic wrap. One of the dainty things that you can pack in a jean pocket if you wanted, but which was usually in your brown paper lunch bag. That sort of sandwich.

The sandwich that I encountered was a 2-pounded-meat-salad-with-dressing enclosed between Rye bread. That was a sorry excuse of a container for such a beastly thing. How do you hold back a beast with those flops of grain? You don’t. You barely know what to do with it.

I don’t know how you’re supposed to eat that. Is it understood that you were going to be eating this across multiple meals? Is this a single meal for a day? Is this supposed to be shared with someone else?

I could speak in awe of this portion size with the plate lunches back home. That is a lot of food, and I think it’s supposed to feed a construction worker or another type of laborer who needs those calories. But me, I’m just an office boy. I have no use for all of those calories.

I was worried to be honest because it was 30 bucks for that sandwich. I wasn’t sure if I was going to get my moneys worth. I certainly did, because I did not eat anything else for the rest of the day. It came with a huge and delicious pickle, and it also came with some potato salad. That being said, I could not finish pickle nor potato salad, and I was left with some of the salad sandwich that was left behind. The droppings, the drippings of the sandwich were left behind. It turns out that the beast of meat also had an entire salad of coleslaw nestled into it. I never did see this slaw until all the meat was gone.

Now, when you’re full and greasy and feeling disgusted at yourself and of the people that would call that monstrosity a single meal…you simmer with spite. Both spite and regret fill you as you throw away the sandwich. No, excuse me. The Reuben. I have to properly name my whale, after all.

Throwing the Reuben away…do I feel wasteful? Yes. But, how are you expecting me to deal with the Reuben? Is the Reuben you eat in one sitting? If you can..those who are worthy deserve applause. I certainly could not do it. Throwing the Reuben away, that act is partially because I am not going to put THE Reuben in the refrigerator and access it later. I’m going to go about my day and do things. And something like THE REuben sitting around in a steaming car will not be good later in the day. By the time I would return, THE REUBEN would have assembled a consciousness with the scraps that I didn’t eat.

I present to you T̵̡̨̼̱̜̻̯̺͍̤͈̄͠ͅH̴̢͈̪̯̪̣͗̈́͗͆̀͊͆E̷̛̱͈̞̹̥͈̞̜͗͒́́̍̈̆̀̓͗͗̿͛͝ ̵̧̢̬͍̱̯̊̅̚Ŗ̴̨͓̣̤̦̫͚̪͚͚͔̺̀̂̔͐͆͘͜͜Ḙ̶̪̭̹̝̣̭͖̰̮̻̏͜U̴̯͔̪͕͐̈̇͐͝B̷̧̡͓͕̤̪̺̻͓̃E̶̲̲͐̌̓͗͒Ǹ̷̩͍̌̋̅̉̄. T̵̡̨̼̱̜̻̯̺͍̤͈̄͠ͅH̴̢͈̪̯̪̣͗̈́͗͆̀͊͆E̷̛̱͈̞̹̥͈̞̜͗͒́́̍̈̆̀̓͗͗̿͛͝ ̵̧̢̬͍̱̯̊̅̚Ŗ̴̨͓̣̤̦̫͚̪͚͚͔̺̀̂̔͐͆͘͜͜Ḙ̶̪̭̹̝̣̭͖̰̮̻̏͜U̴̯͔̪͕͐̈̇͐͝B̷̧̡͓͕̤̪̺̻͓̃E̶̲̲͐̌̓͗͒Ǹ̷̩͍̌̋̅̉̄ is a sandwich for a laborer. T̵̡̨̼̱̜̻̯̺͍̤͈̄͠ͅH̴̢͈̪̯̪̣͗̈́͗͆̀͊͆E̷̛̱͈̞̹̥͈̞̜͗͒́́̍̈̆̀̓͗͗̿͛͝ ̵̧̢̬͍̱̯̊̅̚Ŗ̴̨͓̣̤̦̫͚̪͚͚͔̺̀̂̔͐͆͘͜͜Ḙ̶̪̭̹̝̣̭͖̰̮̻̏͜U̴̯͔̪͕͐̈̇͐͝B̷̧̡͓͕̤̪̺̻͓̃E̶̲̲͐̌̓͗͒Ǹ̷̩͍̌̋̅̉̄ is packed within me. T̵̡̨̼̱̜̻̯̺͍̤͈̄͠ͅH̴̢͈̪̯̪̣͗̈́͗͆̀͊͆E̷̛̱͈̞̹̥͈̞̜͗͒́́̍̈̆̀̓͗͗̿͛͝ ̵̧̢̬͍̱̯̊̅̚Ŗ̴̨͓̣̤̦̫͚̪͚͚͔̺̀̂̔͐͆͘͜͜Ḙ̶̪̭̹̝̣̭͖̰̮̻̏͜U̴̯͔̪͕͐̈̇͐͝B̷̧̡͓͕̤̪̺̻͓̃E̶̲̲͐̌̓͗͒Ǹ̷̩͍̌̋̅̉̄ is delicious and it is a lot of food.

Yes, I would get it again.