There’s a moment in every Arizonan food adventurer’s life when they face a crossroads—metaphorically speaking, of course, because we’re talking about a physical crossroads in the form of an intersection. At this particular intersection, dreams are stacked between rye bread and melted Swiss.
I’m talking about the kind of sandwich that makes you close your eyes, take a bite, and wonder if you’ve died and gone to some deli-themed heaven somewhere between Phoenix and culinary bliss. Now, I don’t make claims about food lightly.
But this Reuben? This glorious, towering monument to cured meat and sauerkraut?…