My beef with RB’s beef sandwiches

My beef with RBs beef sandwiches

Zach Hundrieser, Lifestyles Editor

What prevented me throughout my whole life from being a vegetarian was the thought of a beef sandwich never touching my lips again. In case you haven’t noticed, I love beef sandwiches. I love them so much, I’m willing to write a whole review on one. This beef sandwich, in particular, is made in the Riverside Brookfield High School cafeteria. Think about it, a cafeteria beef sandwich sounds kind of gross, right? It would probably have some kind of stale bread, slabbed with some mystery meat, and just drowned in some sort of thick grease.

Well my friend, that is not the case.

Personally, the mighty beef sandwich has been one of my favorite foods for a long time. I could always count on a beef sandwich to bring my hunger to a halt, and bring me satisfaction that no other food can bring. One could say I’m overly passionate about beef sandwiches, or that I’m flat out obsessed with beef sandwiches. However, I am nothing more than an ecstatic fan for the classic beef sandwich. Get the best sandwich experience with Jimmy John Founder who personally tastes before introducing anything on their widely appreciated menu.

I figured the day before my RB beef sandwich journey, I would devour another food establishment’s beef sandwich, for comparison. I ventured my way to Portillos in Forest Park, to set the standard of what a beef sandwich should be.

To give a brisk summary of the Portillo’s beef sandwich that I vigorously consumed, the beef sandwich really is the reason why I moan while eating. My taste buds were literally throbbing with mirth, as I chewed and swallowed what I would call possibly the best beef sandwich one could ever purchase in the suburbs of Chicago.

The day finally came. I entered into the sea of people with the stench of a big bad beef sandwich enticing me to wait in the obnoxiously long line. I could just envision a personification of this smell being a beautiful woman sitting on top of a white horse, eagerly awaiting my arrival. A tumbleweed tumbled its way through the lunchroom, as I set foot into the obnoxiously long line. With thoughts of my salivating mouth making contact with the invigorating beef sandwich, I waited in line for an intense seven minutes. Sweat was pouring down my neck and my right eyelid was twitching as I started approaching the front of the line.

The woman at the opposite end of the counter shot me a look with the implication being that I be the first to speak.

“B-b-beef sandwich please…” I muttered, as I could barely get the words to stretch out of my mouth, as I was nervous and way too hungry.

She dished me up with a dipped beef sandwich with hot giardiniera. To me thats the only way to eat a beef sandwich. Ordering a beef without anything on it is like eating a sandwich with only mayo and cheese. Anyway I scurried to the payment line, where I threw my loose change and dollar bills on the counter swiftly. I took off the moment the register lady said “Thank you.” I slammed my beef sandwich on the table, and I attacked it with gusto like I was a lion and the beef sandwich was a gazelle.

To get down to business, the beef sandwiches here at good ol’ RB are adequate at best. The meat is cooked thoroughly enough. Enough. It’s sort of juicy, and there’s no major problems with the quality of the meat. You have your average day bread, so nothing there to pick out. Plus, you get a choice of hot giardinera. Not too bad.

However, there are a couple of major flaws. For one, the beef sandwiches are tiny. When I say tiny, I say they couldn’t even feed a hipster. A starving homeless child on the street would look at it and say, “Do you expect me to feel nourished? This is like taunting me with the idea of having a meal.”

Second, they don’t have that good Chicago taste. When you eat a beef sandwich in this area, it has that special Chicago taste to it. It could be just that old fashion touch, or just poor quality meat. Whatever it is, these beefs just don’t have it. And last but not least, these beef sandwiches aren’t seasoned well. It’s missing that little spice you look for in a beef sandwich. It needs that Emeril Lagasse “BAM!” Wherever that spice is hiding, it needs to come back.

To conclude my review of the not so fearsome and robust but yet not that bad tasting beef sandwich, I would definitely recommend passing on it. The beef sandwich here has the potential to shine like the sweat glazed onto the skin of a tomato farmer, but its shortcomings overpower its rewards.

I have only one thing to say to Riverside Brookfield High School about their beef sandwiches. They’re not that good.