1 of 4
Photographs below by Kevin A. Roberts
2 of 4
3 of 4
4 of 4
Remember José Eber?
Probably not. Which helps to make our point.
Back in the late Seventies, José was everywhere—if by “everywhere” you mean appearing on the Phil Donahue and Mike Douglas and Merv Griffith and other such TV shows. José was a runty little self-important Frenchman who wore a ridiculous cowboy hat and who affected such theatrically fey behavior he routinely embarrassed Charles Nelson Reilly. He had a hair-cutting salon in Los Angeles with customers like Cher and Elizabeth Taylor and other female clientele of the vulgar sort who do not understand that the term “celebrity” is, in polite company, derisive.
José would come prancing onto these shows and begin fussing and snipping on the tresses of some woman from Scarsdale or Shaker Heights plucked out of the audience to experience the magic of his beautician’s bonhomie. As he snipped and primped, he’d characteristically urge her to “Shake your head, dahling!” to achieve the sort of easy natural look that can only be acquired by spending the equivalent of a year’s average income in several industrialized countries.
For a while, José was in the public eye so frequently he could be thought of as a social sty, his hair care products in stores, his books perused by those seeking coiffeur perfection. And then? Well, who knows? José’s still got a salon in LA, possibly. But what’s hot in LA one year is oh so last year in the following one. José went from Hollywood caliente to the celeb equivalent of the AMC Pacer. And one suspects José’s now shilling his crème rinse conditioner on the early morning shift of some shopping channel and sharing a studio apartment over in Van Nuys with Danny Bonaduce and Bronson Pinchot.
That’s why we were thinking about José the other day, when we went to Maria’s Deli, in Overland, to try the West Coast Reuben.
Maria’s is a cozy little place, in a small strip of shops right off St. Charles Rock Road, on Lackland. The neighborhood is not ah, scenic. There are, however, lots of large office complexes in the immediate environs and Maria has apparently seen this as a lunchtime opportunity. And the place is thriving. Regular customers often call ahead; their tables are actually set with their pre-ordered sandwiches as they stroll in. A lunch sandwich joint that takes reservations tells you a) it’s popular, and b) it’s thoughtful and eager to exploit a growing market for its food.
Speaking of food, the Reuben sandwich is Serious Food. You should not need to be told this. Just as one does not monkey around with other Serious Food (see our previous ruminations on clam chowder, for example), the art and beauty of the Reuben should be left unadulterated. So we had some trepidation about the version offered at Maria’s—one exacerbated in that it was called a “West Coast Reuben.”
Our view of the West Coast is summed up by the aforementioned Mr. Eber. A place of marginally talented parvenus who attract attention momentarily with some trendy gimmick or shtick and who subsequently sink into a well-deserved oblivion. The idea of a West Coast Reuben struck us the same way. We were not encouraged when we asked the woman behind the counter what it was, exactly, that made their Reuben a “West Coast” version.
“Well,” she said slowly, fetching about, apparently, for an explanation. “The ingredients are from the West coast?” She said it more like a question.
“Roasted turkey is from the West coast?” we asked.
“I think so,” she said. “But anyway, it’s really good.”
So we ordered it. And sat and waited for it. The walls and counter—every vertical surface in Maria’s—is entirely wallpapered in movie posters. Have you seen Elizabethtown, by the way? Never even heard of it. Kirsten Dunst and the wimpy guy from Pirates of the Caribbean who wasn’t Johnny Depp. And very quickly, especially considering the crowds that were gathering in Maria’s, the West Coast Reuben (left) was in front of us.
It’s not bad. Not bad at all. It isn’t a Reuben. We can’t imagine why, aside from the dark, pungent and tasty slabs of pumpernickel that holds it, anyone would think of it as Reubenesque. Thick, generous slices of oven-roasted turkey are stacked with wedges of mild Gouda cheese. Apparently what’s supposed to make the sandwich distinctive is a stack of vinegary, sweet and sour slaw that adds a piquant kick. That and a spicy, honey-sweet mustard slathered on. It works. It works for the same reason all such combinations work when they are combined so all the ingredients retain their individual flavors and textures. Nothing overwhelms the palate—but neither do the ingredients just smoosh together indiscriminately.
Of course, while we were in the neighborhood, we also sampled another of Maria’s signature sandwiches, the Cuban (right), which also isn’t any more Cubano than Lucille Ball but which was also very good, particularly benefitting from some lightly toasted sourdough that plays off the roasted pork loin and smoked ham like the percussion section of Ricky Ricardo’s band.
Maria’s has soups that change daily, salads, wraps, and deli-type sides like potato and pasta salads, and daily specials.
We can’t say if the West Coast Reuben will last any longer than José Eber’s Hollywood career. Judging from the crowds that were starting to back up to the door when we left Maria’s, we’re venturing a guess the place at least, will be around for a while. Or at least a while longer than the Donahue show.
Maria’s Deli & Catering
8332 Lackland
314-426-3444
On Facebook: Maria's Deli
Hours: Mon-Fri, 7 am - 2 pm
