The storefront of the Eleven City Diner is decorated with glowing neon signs. Photographed by Finn Martin/BruinLife.
Located on 11th Street and Wabash Avenue, Eleven City Diner is the rambunctious combination of Brent’s Deli and Johnny Rockets. The restaurant was established by Brad Rubin in 2006 and was designed to bring customers back to the good old days when Bing Crosby and the Andrews Sisters were the king and queens of the airwaves. Neon lights buzz, crooners coo from the radio and the acoustics are atrocious like in any other deli — for some reason. While Eleven City feels authentic to its historic inspirations, the food can use some updating.
Deli cuts, a stocked bar and easy sandwiches wait for you as you wait in the lobby. Photographed by Finn Martin/BruinLife.
When it came to Eleven City’s Reuben — I think Rubin needed to take this one back to the cutting board — the sandwich is called “Rubin’s Reuben.” An oddity about this sandwich is that it is only a sandwich upon request. Rubin’s Reuben is an open-faced sandwich — technically making it a flatbread — and only served closed-faced if ordered as such. I asked for mine to be made into a sandwich because I’ve never met anyone who’s tried to knife and fork this Jewish classic, and I wasn’t about to be the first.
The Rubin, named after owner Brad Rubin, is a mix of pastrami and cheese. Photographed by Finn Martin/BruinLife.
Bizarre ordering instructions aside, the flavors were 75% there. The first bite is a wonderful mouthful of fatty, gooey warmth — but this is a Reuben, so what’s missing? Acid. The sauerkraut’s distinct fermented profile was absent from the dish, leaving a wild imbalance of flavors. While I traditionally like a juicer cut of pastrami — in deli culture, “juicy” and “fatty” mean the same thing — in this instance, it was too much, especially when coupled with the creamy Swiss cheese, as they acted as a one-two punch of both dairy and meaty fat. The Thousand Island dressing was sweeter than In-N-Out’s, and it was honestly distracting. If there had been acidity from the sauerkraut, it would have cut through these intense flavors, but unfortunately there was none, which resulted in a Reuben that was only close to excellent.
In store, root beer floats and booze is also provided. Photographed by Finn Martin/BruinLife.
Our second sandwich was the Patty Melt — also not technically a sandwich, but at least this one wasn’t trying to be a flatbread. Ordered more on the medium rare side, the patty was almost too juicy for its own good. Between the buttered-up rye bread, velvety American cheese and grilled onions, the entire burger was a mushy mess that, while great for a couple of bites, will knock you on your tuchas if you try to finish it.
The Patty Melt, a sandwich with dark rye, Angus beef, grilled onions and American cheese. Photographed by Finn Martin/BruinLife.
And a quick note on the French fries: while they are texturally insignificant, they taste exactly like sour cream and onion Pringles. If these were crispy, it would have been game over.
Classical and Modern: The Latke Plate. Photographed by Finn Martin/BruinLife.
From one fried potato to another, the Latke Plate was actually so choice. The plate comes with four potato pancakes — two old school and two new school. Both were super thick with great exterior crunches, pillowy interiors and great salt levels. I was surprised to find that I liked the old-school latkes less than the new-aged ones. While there was definitely more of a bite from the shredded potatoes in the original recipe, it tasted oilier. The second type was basically a fried mashed potato patty. The mixed-in chives were super prevalent and gave this oversized hash brown a distinctive — and needed — freshness. When paired with the sour cream and a dollop of the horseradish mustard, the new school latkes were the best bite of the meal.
While Eleven City Diner pulls up with an entertaining dining area and great new latkes, if I were you, I’d keep on driving.
