I rarely order a sandwich when I go out to dinner. I want dinner at dinnertime. With a manhattan before and wine with. Sandwiches are for lunch.

But lately I've been known to order a sandwich now and then for dinner. A hot grilled Reuben with french fries makes for a wicked hearty and yummy dinner.

Think about it: Sliced corned beef, Morse's (gotta have Morse's, folks) sauerkraut, swiss cheese, Russian (or thousand island) dressing (I know — yucky on lettuce — heavenly on a Reuben), all grilled between two slices of good rye or pumpernickel bread. Hot, crunchy, salty, sour goodness. Mmmmmmm. I want one RIGHT NOW!

Reubens have been around for a while.

That is all I have to say about the origins of the beloved sandwich.

OK I'll elaborate — a little. As soon as I start Googling foods to make me look smart when I write about them I get bogged down with all the conflicting details. Makes me need a manhattan. Oh! It's 5:02! Be right back.

I’m back. And things just got weird. I typed ‘Reuben origin’ in the Google search window and was about to click ‘search.’ The TV was turned on, low, and a voice said, “The real inventor of the Reuben sandwich may be debatable, but its great taste isn't...” It was an ad for Subway.

I am not kidding. It was weird.

So. Here's what I learned about the Reuben.

Sometime in the 1920s this guy named Reuben Kulaofsky, a Lithuanian-born grocer living in Omaha, Nebraska, participated in a weekly poker game at the Blackstone Hotel there. Some say he invented the Reuben, with help from the chef and his poker buddies.

That’s one theory.

Another theory is that the sandwich made its first appearance around 1914 at a New York City restaurant — Reuben's Delicatessen, owned by Arnold Reuben. The owner's daughter claimed that Charlie Chaplin dropped by one night and said, “Reuben, make me a sandwich...” A sandwich comprised of ham, turkey, Swiss cheese and coleslaw was thrown together and a Reuben, of sorts, was born.

There are a lot of unverified theories out there and I need another manhattan, so if it's that big a deal to you Google it yourself. Or ask Margaret Salt McLellan. I honestly don't care anymore.

Oops. Now I care again. I just went to Morse's Sauerkraut in Waldoboro. I think they wrote the book on Reubens. I interviewed the owner, Cody Lamontagne, and that story will be forthcoming. Morse’s has been pumping out sauerkraut for almost 100 years. A restaurant and specialty shop were added at some point over the years. The place is, like, totally awesome.

I got a Reuben while I was there. It was HUGE. It was without a doubt the best Reuben I’ve ever had, and I could only eat half. Don’t worry — I took the other half home.

I asked people on Facebook if they liked Reubens. I don’t have that many friends (I can be a handful) but 30 people “liked” them, and several more added their own two cents. Most of my co-workers love them, but a couple don’t. Morgan Callan Rogers thinks they’re wicked messy, plus she has a disdain for rye bread. And pumpernickel. “Sauerkraut is okay, but on rye? No. And it’s just a big ol’ mess.” Gina Hamilton doesn’t eat red meat, she doesn’t like sauerkraut and she doesn’t like Russian dressing, but she said she’d take Morgan’s rye bread. And she’d put Swiss cheese on it. Kathy Frizzell said she would not, as a rule, eat any of the components separately, except for the corned beef, but that the combination of all together is awesome. (Kathy and I both love that word.)

And if reading this doesn’t make you crave a Reuben there is something wrong with you. I’m kidding. No I’m not.

See ya next week!

I’m not a chef. I lay no claim to being an authority on food or cooking. I’m a good cook, and a lover of good food. And I know how to spell and put a sentence together. This column is simply meant to be fun, and hopefully inspiring. So to anyone reading this whose hackles are raised because you know more about the subject of food than I, relax. I believe you.