Huge Reuben Sandwich

Sit down for this one. The Reuben. The HUGE Reuben. The greatest sandwich ever assembled by any deli in the history of delis — and there's been a LOT of delis, I've been to more delis than any single person on Earth, I've eaten in delis you've never HEARD of, delis with the little cardboard numbers, delis where the guy behind the counter doesn't smile EVER, the good kind — and the Reuben is the KING. The king of delis. Pastrami people will fight me. Let them. They'll lose. It's not even close. It's a slaughter.

Now, the imitators — and there are MANY imitators, the imitation Reuben is a global crisis — they'll skimp on the corned beef. They'll use mealy Swiss. They'll put coleslaw on it and call it a 'Rachel' which is a SEPARATE sandwich, a fine sandwich, but it's NOT a Reuben, please learn the difference, your local diner is LYING to you. The bread? Often soggy. The dressing? Often a sad little smear. Sometimes — and I've seen this with my own eyes, I had to sit down — they GRILL IT WITHOUT BUTTER. Without butter. They use SPRAY. The little can. A disgrace to the sandwich.

My Reuben — and this is the real one, the only one — uses thick-cut corned beef warmed in its own juices, REAL sauerkraut squeezed dry so the bread doesn't drown, Swiss cheese that actually MELTS like it's supposed to, and Russian dressing I make from scratch in 30 seconds. We butter the bread on BOTH sides. Both sides. Generously. Like we mean it. Because we DO mean it. Believe me.

The Reuben is a sandwich that demands RESPECT. You take a bite, the cheese stretches, the corned beef melts on your tongue, the kraut crunches just a LITTLE because you squeezed it like I told you, the Russian dressing hits, and the rye holds the whole thing together like a structural engineer who really cares about his job. You'll finish it. You'll want another one. You'll make another one. That's the deal. That's the contract. The Bigly Reuben is a one-way door, and I have personally locked it behind you. Save me a piece.