What It's like to ride the Yellow Line from Howard all the way to Skokie, Part 2

Dispatches from Skokie, part two of two. In which our intrepid travelers eat a sandwich. I appologize for the low quality of this post. Pictures are included.

As we staggered, dazed, away from the Auto Parts store, a fantastical apparition showed itself in front of us. It was a sign for a Jewish deli, Kaufman Bagel and Delicatessen. I suggested to Adam, the hungry one, that we go there, and he and Paul agreed. We practically jogged the half-block we had left, so desperate were we for the shelter and sustenance this establishment surely would supply.

We reached the door, and were immediately disappointed. Had it been a Tuesday, we would have gotten our sandwiches for half price, or two dollars less, or some other quaint deal. Undeterred by this accident of time, and driven by the deep, abiding desire for deli meat, we entered.

Despite the fact that I was wearing my University of Chicago sweater and trying desperately to fit in, we all must have stuck out worse than a Nigerian soccer player on a Ukrainian team, because the lady behind the counter gave us a double-take and then, presumably encouraged by our continued cluelessness, (for we had stumbled into the bakery side when we were in search of the deli, and could not find a menu) called out that we should step right up if we wanted something. We hesitated and, sensing our nervousness, she boldly declared, “We have the best corned beef in town.”

I imagined this town to be Skokie at first, and though I had heard much of Skokie’s fantastic reputation as a place where real Jewish food could be easily obtained, I doubted that it could really be better than the City of Chicago. However, I have always been an advocate of the theory that anything the CTA touches is Chicago, and anything else is the suburbs, and I was inclined to believe that this was what she meant.

My reverie was interrupted by Adam stepping up to the counter and saying, “Then I’ll have the best corned beef in town.”

The lady behind the counter chuckled at him and explained, as a camp counselor might explain to an unruly five-year-old, that the three of us needed to take a number and go to the deli counter to order sandwiches.

I ordered a hot corned beef on rye with brown mustard from the kindly, middle-aged man wearing a Cubs cap behind the counter, who had just finished counting out five smoked whitefish to an elderly man with numbers tattooed on his arm.

The three of us sat down to eat at the counter on the bakery side. Certainly, my expectations were pretty low. I was blown away. I have only once had such a good corned beef sandwich. The rye bread was delicious and chewy, the corned beef was warm, plentiful, and high-quality, together they were beautifully complimented by the brown mustard. A corned beef sandwich is simple, with no extraneous fuss made, just like this one.

The deliciousness of this sandwich was such that it changed Skokie from just another Metra-stop suburb (The Yellow Line being the accidental Metra of the CTA) to the magical land of Unicorns and other fantastic beings that it is today.

We left Skokie entirely satiated, travelled back through the sylvan glen, and proceeded to continue our adventure on the Purple line, the Yellow Line’s bastard stepchild.