Everything you need to know about Market House Meats (1124 Howell St, 624-9248) is painted on the front of the building. You can't miss the mission statement, written across the top in bright-red letters the size of elementary-school students: "CORNED BEEF." In much smaller green letters below that, there's a footnote reading "*SINCE 1948." And lower still, right by the front door, you'll see another hand-painted sign promising "SEATTLE'S BEST REUBEN." You have likely been burned before when it comes to promises of "Seattle's best"—the Starbucks corporation will have a lot to answer for when the revolution comes—but this is one assertion I can't argue with; I haven't found a better Reuben in Seattle, or anywhere nearby for that matter. (The only one that comes close, in my estimation, is the mixed pastrami and corned beef Reuben at Goldberg's Famous Deli, over in Factoria.)

Nostalgic East Coast transplants will find a pleasing familiarity in Market House's unself-conscious, plain presentation, with its cheap linoleum, fluorescent lighting, and folding chairs. Those used to the decorative taxidermy and burnished reclaimed wood of Seattle's flashiest destinations might be taken aback by the lack of pretense, but every carnivore will agree these sandwiches are something special. The Reuben ($10.95) is less a sandwich and more a meaty, savory slice of birthday cake. That much-trumpeted corned beef—cured on-site in barrels out back for anywhere between five days and two weeks, and available for sale at the deli counter—is an angry red that falls apart in your mouth in a hazy mist of meat and salt. A few inches of the stuff gets piled in between two thin slices of rye bread and coated with Swiss cheese and Thousand Island dressing, and the whole thing is fried on the grill, right next to the meat and sauerkraut.

This Reuben is a towering monster of a sandwich, served in a to-go tray alongside a scoop of potato salad, a couple pickle spears, a cheap little Oreo knockoff, and a tiny plastic thimbleful of horseradish that will make your eyes water and scald the lining of your sinuses if you just bring the lid of the container too close to your face. The potato salad is thick with mayonnaise and very sweet, the pickles are a nice blend of sour and garlic, and the horseradish, when spread tissue-thin on the sandwich, is the detail that ties the whole meal together.

But my God, the meat is splendid. I always mean to order something else on Market House's single-page menu—the corned beef brat ($6.95) looks promising, and so does the barbecue beef brisket ($9.95)—but in all my years of visiting Market House, I find I cannot stray from this sandwich, this CORNED BEEF. recommended