Memories of reubens and crab legs

By Jeff Orvis

Another St. Patrick's Day is in the books and grocery stores have probably already restocked the display bins that held packaged corned beef briskets with Easter hams.

St. Patrick's Day has served as an excuse for millions of us to set aside any concern for sodium-laden meat and dive head-on into the preparation and consumption of corned beef. While a traditional Irish dinner consists of cooked cabbage along with the corned beef, the idea of cooked cabbage is an acquired taste that I have luckily not yet acquired. It's strange though, since I'm a big fan of cole slaw and occasionally can eat saur kraut. Fresh and pickled yes, cooked, no. I also haven't had the nerve to try sardines, sushi or liver.

My corned beef dinner consisted of a brisket roasted for about three hours, then accompanied by cheesey mashed potatoes and glazed carrots. The subsequent reuben sandwiches the next day from the leftovers brought back memories of my earliest encounter with the meat.

Those of you who are long-time residents of the Quad-Cities probably remember Al Klass and his Town and Country restaurants in Rock Island and Bettendorf. The radio commercials claimed they were the “home of slices, slices, slices.” Each of the “slices” was punctuated by the apparent sound of a meat cleaver.

They would slice the corned beef paper-thin and pile it nearly an inch high on good rye bread, along with the kraut, Swiss cheese and sauce. I know the restaurant served other typical midwestern fare, but if my dad or one of my friends suggested a trip to Town and Country, my first thought was the reuben sandwiches.

I have many Quad-City restaurant memories. Long before the TGI Fridays or Applebee's of the world, we thought chain restaurants were limited to Dairy Queen or McDonald's. One exception to this was the midwestern chain of Bishop's cafeterias. We had one in a mall in Bettendorf. There was another in downtown Davenport. Both of those are long gone. One year when I qualified for the All State Chorus in Des Moines, my folks took me out to a Bishop's in a mall in Des Moines.

The aforementioned Town and Country was a bit like Applebee's or TGI Friday's, only a little more moderately priced. It was a place you might be able to afford once or twice a month.

We had a few memorable local eateries where you should remember to wear a suit jacket and tie and bring a fat wallet. They were the places you would take a date for homecoming or prom. The Cellar in Geneseo, IL is in the basement of a downtown building, but it still serves wonderful steaks. My junior prom date and I double-dated with another couple. He got the keys to his mom's Cadillac for the 25-mile trip. It was like riding in a limousine.

For my senior prom, the only place to go was The Plantation in Rock Island. This place had quite a reputation developed many years before we were born. They may have served liquor during prohibition and may have been a hangout for some of the area's notorious characters years before. By the spring of 1971, I just know it was the best place to take my date, whose grandfather was the vice president of a major corporation. (If you met this girl, you would never have guessed this. That's why she was my best friend in high school). While she was really a down-to-earth person, she still delighted in making fun of me when I was confronted with a silver service featuring three or four forks!

My only other memory of The Plantation was when I was invited to my sister's wedding rehearsal dinner. It was truly the first place you thought of if you wanted the best and could afford it.

Another memorable wedding dinner was hosted by my aunt when her only daughter got married. Ben's Gourmet House in downtown Rock Island was the site. All I can remember of that night, some 40 years ago, was my introduction to king crab legs. Up to my elbows in melted butter and crab shells...what a night!

While this trip down culinary memory lane has included several price levels, one thing that was consistent in all of them. Not once was I served an entry that was the size of a baseball card in the middle of a dinner plate with stuff that would have been more appropriate in an art gallery. Many of us, especially here in the Midwest, expect good food and a good quantity of it for the price. It should look good when it is served, but I'd rather the chef devote his or her time to how it tastes instead of attempting to make some sort of artistic statement.

It's nearing 3 p.m. For some reason, my thoughts are already turning to what to fix for supper. After already having the post-St. Patrick's Day reuben today, maybe it will be a night for a TV dinner. I can close my eyes and imagine I'm at the Plantation or at Ben's for a small fraction of the cost.