Reuben Is Not Himself

This not-pneumonia is living rent-free in my nasal cavities! As I type this, it's the 9th day of my Hick-credited malady, and I still have not regained smell or taste. My estranged BFF Google says it might take up to two weeks! That's due to inflammation and swelling in the sinuses, preventing the molecules from lodging on the little patch where they are recognized by the brain. I might as well start chomping on onions and pretending they're apples.

Even though I didn't have Hick bring me a Reuben Sandwich from the Senior Center on Thursday, I DID have the pleasure of re-warming his. That's when I noticed that Reuben was not himself. He seemed different. Not as different as Becky on the Roseanne show, who seemed to turn into a different person during the middle few seasons. But not the old Reuben I had been accustomed to month after month.

I take the bread off the Reubens and put the slices in the oven to crisp them up again. I set the meat with the cheese, sauerkraut, and orange dressing aside, then add it to the foiled pizza pan holding the bread at the last minute. I don't know if they use Russian or Thousand Island Dressing on the Reubens, but it's always just pale orange. The bread was the same, that delicious marble rye. The beef was the wafered kind that comes in a packet, perhaps Buddig brand, at the store. Sauerkraut is sauerkraut, shredded.

WHAT was I noticing? Maybe too much dressing? The top looked extra gooey. Wait! What was THAT? I have a sneaking suspicion that some recycling was done with the Reubens. It looked like maybe a bit of NACHO CHEESE had been added! The white cheese slice was still next to the meat. But on top, with the dressing and sauerkraut, was extra gooey orangeness. With flecks of red and green! About the size of a large-grade glitter. To me, it looked like a fine dice of red and green peppers that might be in liquid nacho cheese. I pointed it out to Hick, who had no idea, and didn't care, having already eaten an entire Reuben at lunch without noticing.

Unable to smell or taste, I could not determine the origin of this change in Reuben. Though it did not escape my attention that two days previous, on Tuesday, the menu was "Taco-ish Tuesday," with a Chicken Tortilla Bowl as the main course. Perhaps they had some canned nacho cheese left over...

Hick actually brought home 2.5 Reubens! I thought that was so sweet, Hick knowing how much I love Reuben, and making sure there was one for me, just in case my taste suddenly returned before supper. As in Coyote Ugly, when Rachel told boss Lil, "Let's not start polishing a Grammy," in reference to Violet singing on the bar... I will advise you not to confuse Hick with Mother Teresa in his Reuben-bringing. 

"[Elderly 1] didn't want hers. And [Elderly 2] could only eat half. So I brung theirs home, too. You can have one if you want."

I would have had no shame taking one and devouring it. If only I could have tasted it. So I left them all for Hick. He had one Thursday night, planning for the 1.5 on Friday night.

I remain ever-hopeful that my smell-and-taste return is imminent. They're probably hiking along the gravel road right now, their kits-n-caboodles bound up in red handkerchiefs tied at the end of sticks, whistling a little tune, about to take a shortcut through the BARn field to be reunited with me by suppertime.

The new jar of Vicks VapoRub that I'm wafting under my nose says different.