The Rueben Late at Night
Nick’s Patio Restaurant, South Bend, Indiana. Visited June 6, 2021
A Reuben sandwich is grist for the mill. Every enchanting bite pares the marble of the memory. The sauerkraut juice, enchantress. It might be one of the best Reubens I have eaten. Might be. How do I evaluate meals apart from the circumstances in which I find myself. In this case, I am famished and tired and relieved to be sitting on the springy cushions of this booth instead of the rigid seat of a car.
After a full day of driving, we arrived in South Bend just before the sun sank. It’s not that late, but almost every eatery is closed or closing. We are so tired that we almost go to bed without dinner, but we're too hungry to sleep, so we get in the car again.
We drive to Nick's Patio Restaurant. I get the sense that everyone is wary of everyone. My first thought is to blame it on COVID. Even though we’re vaccinated and told that worst of the pandemic is over, it seems nobody wants to get too close to anybody who might be sick. That’s my take, but maybe I’m wrong. Maybe these folks are wary because it’s obvious that we’re strangers passing through.
Among people I don’t know, my aim is to be disarming. Disarming means to be non-threatening, to convey confidence, humility, and respect. To acknowledge that it’s not my space. It's yours. To respect that dynamic.
Also, to communicate joy and gratitude. I’m certain I’ve eaten Reubens in the past and had the same feeling. I honestly can't think of a better Reuben I've eaten in my life, yet I'm also sure that I've eaten Reubens in the past and thought, "This is the best one I've ever eaten.” It’s not that hard to explain. I tend to experience a moment in the present more favorably than any moment in the past. The moments I'm in the moment are usually the best, and memories of moments, no matter how wonderful, lose some luster.
Under different circumstances, I wouldn’t be a stranger. My grandfather taught at Notre Dame. My mother and her siblings grew up. here before moving to Pennsylvania. That’s where I’m from, but I could have been from Indiana.
It’s a flimsy connection, flimsy like floss, flimsy like a strand of the sauerkraut stacked between two pieces of rye. I’ve never been here before. I’m not staying long.
I text my mom to say we're in South Bend. That makes her happy.