After last week’s wonderful dinner at Black Walnut, I decided to take things down a notch with a simple sandwich… but from where?
To be sure, I didn’t want another subpar sandwich chain like Subway, Jimmy John’s, or any other corporate fare. Instead, I craved something fresh, original, and well-made—a true lunchtime beauty. That’s why I chose the legendary Kamp’s 1910 Café, located at 10 NE 10th St.
While I have not reviewed it formally, I used to eat their food regularly during my “religious cult” years. Let me briefly explain…
About a decade ago, I was part of a limited sect of religious fanatics who primarily congregated in the Plaza District, and, surprisingly, we ate really well. While I was taking in all of their hippy-dippy fervor, for our weekly breakfast prayer meeting, every so often we would get Kamp’s, and I loved it.
After a long, soul-searching discussion about my time in the cult—the psychological manipulation I endured, the indoctrination I swallowed, and the arduous process of properly reprogramming my free-thinking brain—my fiancée and I decided it was time to exorcise those demons once and for all.
And what better way to do that than by indulging in the ultimate form of spiritual healing: a damn good sandwich?
Arriving for an early lunch last week, I was immediately soothed by the pleasing warmth of Kamp’s atmosphere—a calming lunchtime nook where the scent of fresh coffee and griddled bread works better than any anointing oil. After a bearded fellow took our order, mutually jovial, we grabbed our number and claimed a seat at one of the slightly rickety tables.
Before diving into our main course, my fiancée and I treated ourselves to a sweet, pre-lunch indulgence.
I opted for the 89er Latte ($5.25), a hot, frothy tribute to Oklahoma’s infamous land run—an event that robbed Native tribes of their land – and is repackaged here as a comforting blend of chocolate, Irish cream, hazelnut, and amaretto.
My fiancée, on the other hand, had the seasonal Red Velvet ($3.29) cupcake.
To be fair, the latte was pretty good – systematic land theft never tasted so rich – and despite the name is worth getting again.
The cupcake, however, was the true post-breakfast winner. With red sprinkles on the top of a creamy cake and swoon-inducing red velvet insides, this two-hander was a treat-and-a-half.
After we wiped the table-top of errant crumbs, our entrees soon arrived.
For her lunch, my fiancée had the delectable homeless-entrenched Hobo Pie ($11.49). In a flaky-crust filled with smoked chicken, roasted red and green peppers, mushrooms, and green chilies, it is combined with a creamy spicy sauce topped with cheddar cheese and baked to an absolute tee.
It was a magnificently savory pie, like a highfalutin pot pie but exponentially better. The amalgamation of fresh vegetables—the peppers, the chilies—melded seamlessly with the smoky, tender chicken, all bound together by the sharp embrace of melted cheddar cheese. It was a lunch so unexpectedly divine that even my fiancée, with all her well-honed culinary instincts, couldn’t have imagined a better bite.
That being said, my own lunch was more than up to the challenge. Staring back at me from the top of the menu, like an old friend waiting with open arms, was my go-to favorite: Kamp’s signature sandwich, the Wrong Side of the Tracks Reuben ($12.49).
With my holy shoe, a flea-bitten dog and a rusty spoon for beans by my side, their Rueben sandwich had loads of fresh pastrami that will make any Greaser proud. It was also topped with plenty of sauerkraut and Swiss cheese served on toasted rye bread, and a “special” sauce that I couldn’t identify but fully loved.
I don’t know if it was the re-emergence of true religious ecstasy, or a technical food coma, but I was enthralled with the special sandwich that I once knew. It's worth crossing the tracks for a bit, at the top of my own personal menu.
After my visit to Kamp’s, I came to a divine revelation—maybe I didn’t need that “cult” after all to whip my spiritual self into shape. Maybe, just maybe, the true path to enlightenment wasn’t through prayer circles or ecstatic devotion, but through Kamp’s Wrong Side of the Tracks Reuben and, of course, one (or three) of those sinfully good, mouth-watering cupcakes. Praise be!
Cómpralo ya!
-
Follow Louis Fowler on Instagram at @louisfowler78.
