Thanksgiving is the finest of all holidays, and it’s not a subject I’m willing to debate. You can have Christmas and all of its materialism and gift-giving anxiety; I’ll take the holiday devoted to football and eating. One of my favorite aspects of Thanksgiving is the sandwich I make for lunch the following day, in which I cram leftover turkey, stuffing, and jellied cranberries between slices of buttered toast. It’s incredible. How would it stack up against the best sandwich in Phoenix? I drove to Los Reyes de la Torta (“King’s Cake,” according to Google’s translator) in northwest Phoenix to find out.
No one saw me enter the restaurant, as the three hostesses were engrossed in a Spanish-language soap opera blasting from each of the four wall-mounted televisions. Assessing my surroundings, I noted a ceramic Elvis, frozen in mid-gyration atop a crude stage in a corner of the restaurant, and a gumball machine near the entrance. This was certainly not what I’d hoped for. A hostess finally noticed me, and asked in Spanish where I would like to sit. (At least I think that’s what she asked me, as the only Spanish I knew was “Los Reyes de la Torta.”) An awkward exchange soon ensued, in which I was only able to order the sandwich I wanted by pointing at the menu. I forget, sometimes, that I live in Mexico. As I waited for my meal to arrive, my spirits and expectations could not have been lower.
All was forgiven, however, when I saw the sandwich. Towering and aromatic, it seemed more a feat of structural engineering than culinary ability. Examining a softball-sized cross-section, I identified diced pork, fried steak strips, shredded lettuce, sliced tomato, chorizo, avocado, ham, refried beans, American cheese, Swiss cheese, jalapeno peppers, and at least one fried egg between the toasted buns. It was, if nothing else, the unhealthiest sandwich I’d ever seen. But as I abandoned decorum and tore into it with both hands, I discovered it was also one of the tastiest. The meat was surprisingly moist, and the buns expertly charred. After polishing it off, I rose, sweaty and swollen, to pay for my meal. The waitress raised her eyebrows in surprise at my clean plate, and I made an exaggerated belly-rubbing motion and flashed a thumbs-up. No translation necessary.
i like the valley and state section of the az republic strategically placed behind the sandwich!!! and even though i don’t eat meat…this sandwich looks fabulous! i may have to bring my food-snob mexican boyfriend there when he visits this weekend!