Roll ‘n Rye 10990 Jefferson Blvd. $10-$15
Great roast beef can make a guy go gaga, and Roll ‘n Rye
in Culver City has my friend held captive.
“This is the kind of sandwich that I don’t want to
share,” he admitted. “I just want to run to a dark
closet and hide and eat it all myself.”
A roast beef sandwich that brings out the Scrooge in us ““
I thought he might be on to something. And since I wasn’t
getting a bite over his shoulder, I got my own.
It wasn’t an easy hunt. I searched for Roll ‘n Rye
online to no avail, and then, as a last resort, called 411. At the
other end was someone who understood only Spanish. Next was someone
who understood mostly Korean.
I was astounded: could it be that even the Jewish deli industry
is being monopolized by non-Jewish cohorts nowadays? I wondered why
they vehemently resisted being interviewed until I looked down at
my 411 text message.
Turns out I had the wrong listing: “Rolling Rack,”
which I later find out sells wedding accessories.
I finally found Roll ‘n Rye, a true New York-style deli
and diner serving up homemade Jewish comfort food. It sits
incongruously next to a Target and Petco in a shiny, new-looking
megamall.
Roll ‘n Rye’s surroundings belie the fact that over
the past 43 years, it has cultivated an old, faithful following
from Culver City and beyond. The restaurant was rebuilt 15 years
ago just 1,000 feet from its original location when the area was
redeveloped.
“We’re in the third and fourth generations now.
Grandparents will bring their kids,” said owner Rita
Zide.
Zide bought Roll ‘n Rye from her parents, who first came
from Poland to Chicago. Her father started in the restaurant
industry in the 1940s, training the entire family, including Zide
and brothers Sol and Abe, in the business.
I am reassured that there is gritty Jewish immigrant history
behind the food, so I’m ready to order. I ask how the roast
beef is, even though I already know.
“If you like it rare, it’s on the rare side
today,” says my server, Taleen Beasley.
“What do you mean, it’s rare today?” I ask,
not so much concerned but morbidly curious.
“Well, no two roasts turn out the same, and they’re
made fresh every day.”
It’s obvious enough, but alas, I am a veritable
rare-roast-beef virgin ““ the product of innocuous Subway
sandwiches and supermarket deli meat.
The sandwich arrives cut in half so that I’m gaping at the
resplendent cross-section: nearly three inches of roast beef and
rye bread ““ but mostly roast beef. In fact, the sandwich
bulges like a snake trying to conceal its last meal. The roast
beef, piled stratum upon stratum, blushes salmon-pink, sheepish at
the fact that it has stained the bread here and there.
So I’m thankful that the juicy meat brims with clean beef
flavor and lacks the sketchy, stop-in-your-tracks taste associated
with meat that’s not fresh enough. I prefer toasted bread and
melted cheese; it doesn’t come that way, so ask for it if
you’re like me.
Make sure to partner your sandwich with some Roll ‘n
Rye’s coleslaw. Coleslaw is the wallflower of sides, easy to
forget about until it arrives with what you really wanted a sexy
date with: your gravy mashed potatoes and honeyed, buttered
biscuits. However, Roll ‘n Rye’s version is
surprisingly charming: It’s lively with more crunch and tang,
unlike its soggy, too-sweet counterparts.
The service is attentive. Beasley promptly whips out a slew of
mustards ““ a horseradish mustard, a “sweet hot”
mustard “rich with honey,” the trusty Heinz and, of
course, Grey Poupon. Our water is refilled four times during the
meal (I count).
Friendly waitresses and 140 items made in the kitchen starting
at 4 to 5 a.m. every day ““ it’s like the Jewish home
you never had.
“Jews like to schmooze … (so) you get to know other
people,” said Culver City resident Gene Rothman. A bona fide
regular, he comes in at least five times a week.
Angelina Valenzula, 73, has been eating at Roll ‘n Rye for
40 years.
“I knew Rita’s mother,” she said, tapping my
hand to make a point. She comes three times a week, because
“now my hands make it hard for me to cook.”
“At least one-fourth of our customers come every single
day and 75 percent come at least once a week,” Beasley said.
“We also have people who come in more than once a
day.”
I doubt I’ll ever reach that level of devotion, but
I’m already a glad disciple of their roast beef.
If you’ve got (roast) beef with Hsu, e-mail her at
lhsu@media.ucla.edu.