While its origins are still a matter of mild controversy (New York City?Or Omaha?), the basic Reuben is essentially a grilled or toasted sandwich made with rye bread, corned beef or pastrami, sauerkraut, Swiss cheese, and either Russian or Thousand Island dressing. It’s comfortingly uncomplicated, but the combination of its relatively simple ingredients elevates it to the level of sandwich that causes those experienced in Reuben magic to crave one the moment its name is mentioned. That’s what happened to me when a friend shared his recent memory of a wonderful Reuben he had enjoyed during a visit to Montreal. I immediately decided that my next mission in life was to check out a few places in our own fair city to see if I could find the tastiest real deli deal.

Coleman’s Restaurant and Deli’s (3085 Bathurst Street) “Classic Reuben Sandwich” ($9.99 - sandwich only) offers a choice of corned beef, pastrami or smoked meat. I go for the corned beef. The sandwich is roughly the same footprint as a Frisbee and a good two inches thick. The meat is just fatty enough for great flavour, and the bread is a thin-sliced sour caraway rye that is grill-toasted to satisfyingly crispy-greasy chewiness. Unfortunately the Swiss cheese is processed (why, oh why?) and this “classic” Reuben arrives devoid of any Thousand Island or Russian dressing. Hey, that’s not “classic” in my opinion. Still, Coleman’s almost-a-Reuben is a very fine deli sandwich and terrific value.

Switzer’s Airport Deli (7310 Torbram Road, Unit 2) requires a bit of a trek north of Lester B. to try one of these bad boys. Made with corned beef and served on buttery grilled marble rye, the meat is lean, tender and juicy, and shaved paper-thin making these notoriously messy sandwiches less of a struggle to eat. Processed Swiss (again) was a bit of a disappointment, and, again, no dressing. While the $10.95 price tag also includes a large handful of fries and a generous scoop of tangy-sweet coleslaw, the sandwich itself was a bit on the skimpy side.

I met a friend at The Corned Beef House (303 Adelaide West) to check out their highly-recommended Reuben. It’s available in two sizes: Huge ($7.99) and Gigantic ($9.25). I opt for Huge, figuring that this Reuben assignment is going to make me a lifetime candidate for Lipitor any minute now. Our friendly server takes our order and asks me if I would like mustard on my sandwich or just the dressing. Dressing!? Ah, finally I’m going to get a Reuben made just like I’ve been hoping for. (But I do opt for some spicy mustard on the side just for kicks.) When the sandwich arrives, I’m surprised it doesn’t require a building permit for exceeding the city’s height restrictions (you think I’m joking?); lovely city-famous corned beef is voluminously stacked between thick slices of toasted marble rye presenting a significant challenge for the average human mandible. It’s a terrific sandwich. But is it a terrific Reuben sandwich? While I did, during a brief sandwich deconstruction, observe actual holes in the cheese, it didn’t taste like genuine Swiss to me. And the dressing that I was so excited to finally receive turned out to be ranch. Ranch. On a Reuben. I would never say no to another one of these sandwiches, but perhaps The Corned Beef House should rename it the “Hidden Valley Reuben”.

Three artery-clogging sandwiches down and I’ve yet to find one that comprises all the basic ingredients of a true Reuben. So, after much deliberation and soul-searching I decide to investigate Arby’s (Sherway Gardens Food Court and various other locations throughout the city). Their Reuben ($4.99) does have dressing. At least it was something pink-tinged and closer to Russian/Thousand Island than the previously-tested specimens. It’s neither recognizably Russian nor Thousand Island; it’s some creamy concoction flecked with minced red chilies or…something, giving their sandwich some unexpected heat. It appeared that someone (or something) had attempted to toast the marble rye, however the cheese was undeniably ersatz Swiss and the meat was cold. Sorry, Arby’s. You don’t fool me with your overly-peppery mystery sauce. Heat your meat, people.

Since I’m in a food court anyway, I wander over to Druxy’s and give their Reuben a try. I’m offered a choice of bread, and asked whether or not I would like it toasted. I choose dark rye and opt for the toasting. The Druxy’s default comes with mustard. At this point I’m seriously wondering what is up with the Thousand Island/Russian dressing shortfall in the GTA. At least Druxy’s offers real Swiss cheese. The rest of the sandwich, outside of the very friendly service with which it was presented, is wholly unremarkable.

So in my (albeit somewhat limited) quest to find a true Reuben sandwich within our vicinity it would appear that I have, thus far, failed. But I’m not yet defeated. I will continue my journey.

But not right away. All this research has myself feeling a little more Rubenesque than I’d intended.