Love Letters to Weinberger's Deli
It was a dark day in Denton when Weinbergers announced they would shuttering their operations in the little d. The delicious handmade sammies were the perfect lunch or a great way to end your day with a very delicious dinner. Several of our staffers are broken hearted and took pen to paper (or fingers to keys) to declare their love for certain menu offerings as we all shed a tear for the loss of this sandwich shop.
The Dragon's Breath -
To my dearest Dragon's Breath - you were taken from me when I was most vulnerable, most craving your firey cubano self. I'll miss your perfectly pressed goodness, your delicioius, perfectly sliced meats and most of all? That perfectly crafted, spicy mustard sauce that left a gentle bite on the tongue. Who knows who will replace you?
With fondness,
Danielle Loungeville
The California Club -
Oh Cali Club, how can I replace you!? Who will make me feel like I'm eating healthy at a sandwich restaurant when you probably have more calories that I even need worry count for? I'll always miss how you actually made me think of the Cali Club-like sandwich I used to get at Banter Bistro. Goodbye, forever? Who knows when I"ll have time to come to Grapevine to bask in your glory.
Waiting til traffic dies down on I-35,
Danielle Loungeville
The Mark Cubano -
Dearest Mark, I will miss your authenticity, your savoriness, your heat. You were spicy and sweet, the perfect balance of everything I look for in a man, I mean sandwich. The perfect pick me up after a long day, a comfort food that would melt the stress away. You've set the bar too high for another to compare with your grilled and savory pork and ham, the classic tang of deli mustard, melted provolone, and crisp Kosher dill planks, hugged tight between a Cuban roll. Authentic, delicious, filling, I hope to see you again soon one day.
In my heart always,
Tiffany Johnson
The Wrigley Field -
Classic, reliable, simple just like your favorite pair of Converse or the little black dress in your closet. Always a great choice for a working lunch, not too messy, served warm and delicious, and just the right size. A perfect fit for my mid-day appetite. Hot Ham and Turkey, piled high on a slightly crunchy toasted onion roll, Swiss Cheese melted and gooey, spiced up just the right amount with a generous spread of deli mustard. Just the thought of this simply crafted sammie leaves me with the warm and fuzzies.
May we meat again,
Tiffany Johnson
The New Yorker -
Oh, to this delicious take on a classic; woe to those whom never tried, but even more so for we few who will pine for another chance that will never come. You were our coffee on cold mornings at work, where visions of deli meats danced tantalizing in our minds, so far from reach with so much to be done. Your name was an ode to your workman’s simplicity, but with an added big city zest; a twang that we Texans can more than appreciate. With a bit of creamy coleslaw and the tang of Russian Dressing, you took a Reuben and made it your own - nay, made it our own, presented as if on the silver platter of a toasted onion roll, made for us, the hustling, bustling worker bees, to experience a taste of the divine in our day-to-day.
Garrett Smith
The Medianoche -
And who could forget this beautiful bouquet of flavors, the ultimate middle of the night snack, the drunkard’s best friend both the night of and the morning after? I dare say that nary a sandwich heralds a more daring palate, nor a more feisty approach to the already legendarily sexy Cuban. With honey sriracha thrown into the mix of mustard, pork, and Swiss, you've already upped the ante on this sandwich gamble; add salami and jalapeño chow chow, and you've won yourself the hand. All bets are off against this daytime or late night hero, and we salute all that you did for us, the many a fallen soldier, in desperate need of spicy revival on any a given Denton morning. Your bounty of flavor carried us into the fields of battle many a long afternoon, and you lit up our lives as you did our tongues - for that, we salute you, Medianoche.
Garret Smith