Foodie on Duty – Reben Luncheonette

Whenever I walk down Havemeyer and am about to hit the J, M, Z, a neon sign advertising morir soñando glows in the early morning window of Reben’s Luncheonette. Morir soñando is a drink that roughly translates into “to die dreaming.” This luncheonette favorite is romantic blend of orange juice, ice, Carnation milk and a touch of sugar. Ironically enough, I chose to order the tres golpes – three gulps – instead of the drink that lured me in the door. Unlike the morir soñando, the tres golpes has a good dose of fresh carrot juice added to the drink. It’s like a morir soñando, version 2.0.

A stainless steel cup accompanies a soda fountain glass of tres golpes, ready to refill it at a moment’s notice. The drink itself is milky, sweet and lightly tart with fresh orange juice. The flavor of the carrot juice isn’t strongly pronounced, and instead functions as something that mellows out the orange flavor so that the overall effect tastes fruity and mild.
Since I skipped breakfast, I skimmed menu for something to fill my belly with something a little more solid. The list of food items are about as short as the prices are low – with the priciest sandwich hovering just around $5. The bulk of the menu consisted of omelets and hot-off-the-grill sandwiches. I ordered an egg sandwich on a roll, a corn muffin and an avena. My Spanish is pretty rough, but I knew that avena translated into oatmeal.

The egg sandwich was simple enough – a small omlette with crisp edges on a hot, crisply griddled roll. For something just under $3, you can’t go wrong with a greasy spoon’s simplest of offerings. Next came a small cup of my avena – which was more of a breakfast drink than an actual breakfast.

Think of a piping hot oatmeal milkshake and you’ll have an idea of what an avena is like at Reben. It’s a thick, sticky drink sweetened with sugar and flavored with cinnamon and just a kiss of clove. The flavor was very similar to that of a good, non-boozey eggnog. Even though the avena wasn’t a fashionable fit with the 75-degree weather, I do believe I may have found my new winter staple. It was a little mealy, like any good cereal-based drink, but the finely ground oatmeal gave it a fairly smooth consistency that would be perfect for those days when you’re in the mood for something other than a hot chocolate.

Just as I was wondering what had happened to my corn muffin, I was presented with a plate. Apparently when you order 1 corn muffin, they really serve you 2. And unlike the mushroom-shaped muffin I was expecting, they were thick, flat discs – much closer to an English muffin in shape than a triple chocolate muffin at Dunkin Donuts. Because they were so hot, I had to wait a full minute before taking the risk to burn my fingers for a second time. The wait was worth it, for the moment I bit down on my 1st corn muffin, I closed my eyes and died dreaming.

The edges were super crisp and aromatic of butter and griddle grease. As soon as the crisp crust gave way to my teeth, I encountered an airy, soft cake of sweet cornmeal. Cornbread be damned! What you get at Thanksgiving taste like hockey pucks compared to the 75-cents worth of sweet, crisp, fairy-cake corny bliss at Reben. Butter. Corn. Sweetness. And the most delicate corn-based muffin innards I’ve had to privilege to taste. Ever.