meats in dim lighting

"It's my first time in Nebraska."
"Yeah, a lot of people say that."

I decided I needed to go to a steakhouse in Omaha. Besides corn, this is the only thing I know about Nebraska. Lincoln is about a 40-50min drive away. That is essentially my trek from the Pleasanton labs to our product development partners, but Lincoln to Omaha would be on open highway I could speed down while pretending I can sing to Ariana Grande... and there wouldn't be a $7 bridge toll. I ended up with a rental car so I might as well use it. It wasn't part of the plan, but when I got off the plane and walked about ten feet to wait for my Lyft outside, I saw that there were none in sight, so I panicked and rented a car on the spot. By the way, it snowed on my last day and I had to drive through the frosty blanket at 4 in the morning to the airport.

The Brothers Sebastian Steakhouse came up on a few lists, so after my host mentioned it, I started driving. The restaurant is decorated like a monastery. When I pulled up to the windowless building, I could hear the musical chants echoing inside. The waiters even wear monk robes. Apparently the owner was inspired by Spanish monasteries in California. The place burned to the ground in 1996, but they immediately rebuilt it to fit the original vision in 1977. I can't remember the last time I was in a theme restaurant, but I was into it. I was into the salad bar (which was very much just your typical mediocre self serve salad bar but I hadn't put a vegetable in my mouth in like a week, so I think my entire body breathed a sigh of relief to see it). I was into the stained glass accents. I was definitely into the giant room full of wine barrels. I was into eating my super simple prime rib sandwich with jus. And warm and bland baked potato (that I loaded up with cracked pepper and bacon bits from the salad bar).

The meat was so perfectly done and soft and clean. Even the jus was so subtle, I didn't feel weighed down and groggy as I drove to a trendy cafe to mooch their wifi.

Side story - the trendy cafe was definitely trendy. With high ceilings and minimalist decor and branding that made me want to buy a bag of beans. But if you're flying out of Lincoln, maybe reconsider because TSA requires you to take out all your food for the x-ray and then they swab it anyways. My bag of coffee beans set off their alarm, and I was momentarily caught off guard when I saw one of the agents begin to open the bag of coffee.

"Oh, you meant open open it." I thought she was asking about the little vent in all coffee bean packaging.

"Yeah. Otherwise I can't see what's inside."

That's literally the point of packaging for coffee beans.

It was fucking cold. To which you're probably saying duh, it's Nebraska in winter. But okay, I hear you and I checked the weather and it said 50s and there wasn't any sign of snow, but I was woefully unprepared without a scarf or a jacket with a hood or gloves. So all my plans to wander around downtown after work were dashed as soon as I stepped outside. I wanted a bowl of hot soupy something, but Alicia and Christy rightfully reminded me that I can get ramen in SF and that if you find out the Reuben was invented in Nebraska, then go get the best Reuben in Nebraska.

Crescent Moon is self-seat, but I didn't know that right away. I walked in with my mask on - because lets all agree that when it's freezing outside, a face mask is actually the best accessory - I felt like I walked in late to a quiet but packed classroom, the bar patrons all turning to look at me, and I internalized this immediately. And removed my mask. I made eye contact with two waitresses who said nothing to me, noticed another solo diner tentatively hop on an empty barstool, surveyed the room for a quick diversity headcount as I find I do whenever I'm not in the Bay, and watched a group of boys stroll in and straight to an empty booth followed by one of the waitresses. This all happened over about ten agonizingly slow minutes, so to save face, I slowly shuffled up to another empty barstool, propped half my butt onto the cushion, and waited for the bartender to come to me. So I could order a Reuben with fries... to go.

I ate my dinner during the drive home - one hand steadying the steering wheel, the other pinching half the Reuben - and was struck again by how "clean" it was. Or as clean as a meat and cheese and dressing filled sandwich can be - I didn't drip or spill or generally make an oily mess, which is a remarkable feat if you've ever seen me eat. Also it was super heavy on the sauerkraut which I loved. The fries were slightly battered and seasoned with something peppery. Totally worth the awkward wait.

Sandwich in the rental car - kraut heavy angle.

Sandwich in the hotel room - corned beef heavy angle.