Between the Bread

Though I love the Nebraska Reuben story, it isn't the one told most often. That would be the tale of Arnold Reuben of New York, NY.

According to Joan Nathan, author of Jewish Cooking in America, Reuben opened his first deli in 1915 and, like many first-generation deli owners, he was a German immigrant. By 1920, he had a 24-hour restaurant on 82nd and Broadway, serving big sandwiches to actors and nighthawks.

The folklore behind the sandwich is as follows: an actress came into the restaurant and requested a big sandwich. In a story told in a letter from Arnold Reuben's daughter, her dad put together a sammie made from ham, turkey, Swiss cheese, cole slaw, and Russian dressing on rye:

He served it to the lady who said, "Gee, Reuben, this is the best sandwich I ever ate. You ought to call it an Annette Seelos Special." To which he replied, "Like hell I will. I'll call it a Reuben's Special."

He may have called it a Reuben, but it's not what we call a Reuben, so it would seem the Omaha invention story carries more weight. Arnold's son, Arnold Reuben Jr., attempted to remedy this later in life by telling yet another invention story. In 1993, he told the St. Petersburg Times that the sandwich was invented in the 1930s, when the chef made him a meal of corned beef, Swiss cheese, and sauerkraut on pumpernickel.

Revisionist history or true story? Either way, you've got to give credit to Arnold Jr. for understanding that when it comes to sandwich history, the best or loudest storytellers usually win. So which invention tale do you believe?

I love a sweet and savory Thanksgiving leftovers sandwich, but I went home without any cranberry sauce this year. Thankfully, missing cranberry sauce is the mother of invention, and I'm amazed I didn't think of this sandwich sooner.

The secret ingredient: sweet potato pone, my old family recipe made with shredded sweet potatoes, pecans, cinnamon, nutmeg and other spices. I spread the sliced casserole onto toasted honey wheat bread then combined it with leftover turkey, romaine lettuce, dijon mustard, and Swiss cheese.

The sweet potato pone was perfect, and the sandwich held together surprisingly well. It was just missing something else salty; dare I try it again with mashed potatoes or stuffing?

I'm planning to make an epic Thanksgiving leftovers sandwich for dinner tonight, but until then, let's look to Anna for inspiration. She shared this very serious sandwich of leftover turkey, mashed potatoes, homemade cranberry sauce, and a recent revelation: veganaise.

What leftovers sandwiches have you made this Thanksgiving? Tell me in the comments or, better yet, take a photo and email it with a description of your sandwich to nancy@betweenthebreadblog.com.

I love a salty-sweet sandwich, and the Monte Cristo is the ultimate. My first memory of the storied American sandwich was eating the batter-fried version at Bennigan's, but now I prefer the more classic version made with simple French toast.

Andrew, who shares my love of this sandwich, made French toast for Mother's Day and treated us to Monte Cristos the Monday after. The French toast had a delightful orange flavor (I think he soaked it in Grand Marnier), and we filled it with turkey, ham, and Swiss cheese. For more photos and details, read more

I suspected I would like pickled okra, but I had no idea I'd go crazy for it. I recently bought a jar to make Cajun Bloody Marys, and I'm hooked. If you like pickles and spicy stuff, I highly recommend pickled okra, which has a velvety texture and none of the usual sliminess.

But isn't this a blog about sandwiches? Why, yes! Keep reading for details on this weekend improv.

Between the Bread loyalist Lizzy (who you may remember from her amazing leftover turkey sandwich) has gotten the turkey-sandwich-at-work bug. And she's come up with an innovation I have yet to dabble in:

I have been making sandwiches a lot at work lately (a great way to save money and eat healthy). The sandwich I have made four times this week is turkey, avocado on wheat bread. Today, I ran into a little problem that happens to all of us sandwich eaters: there were three pieces of bread left in the bag, two of which were the super thin end pieces.

So what did she do? "I decided to just use all pieces and simply layer the avocado and turkey throughout. The result was a tasty, triple-decker sandwich! I mean, we have all seen it with the Big Mac and the Club, but I have never made a sandwich like this before, nor thought to do it. Have you ever made a layered sandwich?"

Now that she mentions it, I don't think I have! Anyone else?

On our post-backpacking pit stop at the Dry Creek General Store, which advertises "the best sandwiches you ever saw," I ordered the relatively manageable turkey with muhammara sauce. Andrew, however, got the more lumberjack-style Dry Creek Stacker.

At the corner of Haight and Fillmore Streets in San Francisco sits a tiny grass-green sandwich shop called Estela's. The diminuitive family-owned deli and juice bar has no schtick and no real specialty, yet it remains one of my favorite sandwich stops in the city.

It proves that sometimes, a simple, well-executed sandwich made with fresh, flavor-packed ingredients can be more satisfying than any high concept or overindulgent competition. Estela's ingredients are mostly familiar: better-than-average deli meats and cheeses, ripe tomatoes and avocado, plain ol' red leaf lettuce, and thin-sliced red onions. But a few unexpected fixings, including artichoke spread and cranberry mustard, on exceedingly freshed sliced bread and telera rolls set these sammies apart. Check out some of my favorite menu items.