Beef Recipes

How to Make a Reuben Sandwich

Corned beef ox tongue reuben sandwich cut in half, served with sliced gherkins and dressed rocket.

My Reuben sandwich recipe puts a twist on a classic, using sliced ox tongue instead of the traditional corned or salt beef. Needless to say, ox tongue works brilliantly here and plays a key role in making an exceptional Reuben.

As an ingredient, tongue often provokes an amusing reaction, with people put off by one aspect of it or another. That tends to be true of offal in general and is often more about perception, and a lack of confidence in how to cook it, than anything else. Offal is usually inexpensive, nutritious and delicious, and often easier to prepare than people think. Whilst some offal, such as beef kidney or lamb liver, has a strong, distinct flavour, tongue is much gentler, offering a pleasing, meaty richness that works perfectly in a sandwich like this. May this recipe be your gateway to enjoying tongue as part of your diet.

Serves: 4-5

Prep time: 25 minutes

Cook time: 2 hours 30 minutes

Ingredients

Russian Dressing

Method

To Cook the Ox Tongue

  1. Remove the ox tongue from its packaging and rinse under cold water.
  2. Place the tongue in a suitably sized pan and cover with cold water. Set over a high heat and bring to the boil. Reduce the heat to a simmer and cover with a cartouche. Simmer gently for 2–2½ hours.
  3. To check whether the tongue is cooked, insert a small, sharp knife into it. The knife should go in with little resistance, and the tongue should feel tender throughout.
  4. Leave the tongue to cool in the cooking liquid.
  5. Remove the tongue from the liquid and, using a small knife, peel away the outer membrane. This membrane is quite thick and should not be eaten. If the tongue is properly cooked, it should come away easily.
  6. Once the membrane has been removed, slice the tongue as thinly as possible using a sharp knife.

To Make the Russian Dressing

  1. Combine all the ingredients in a bowl and mix well. Taste and adjust as needed.

To Assemble and Cook the Reuben

  1. Butter both sides of two slices of bread. Spread a dollop of Russian dressing on the inside of each slice, then layer with several slices of ox tongue, a generous helping of sauerkraut, a sprinkle of caraway seeds and 2–3 slices of Emmental. Top with the second slice of bread. Repeat until all the sandwiches are assembled.
  2. Heat a large frying pan over a low to medium heat and place the sandwiches in the pan, one or two at a time depending on the size of your pan. Cook for 3 minutes, adjusting the heat as needed so the bread does not burn. Flip and cook for a further 3 minutes on the other side.
  3. Repeat with the remaining sandwiches. Serve with sliced gherkins and a little dressed rocket on the side.

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Instagram

  • We are reaching the end of our wild garlic sausages, as the season begins to slip away and only the deeper, shaded pockets of woodland still offer the tender leaves we rely on.

It is from these cooler, quieter areas that we are still able to gather what we need, though even here the plants are beginning to turn, and once the flowers arrive, the flavour shifts and our time with wild garlic comes to a close for another year.

As ever, we follow the season rather than stretch it, working with what is left while it is still at its best, which means if you have been enjoying them, or have been meaning to try them, now is the time to cook them or put a few aside for later.

Before long, they will be gone, and we will wait for spring to bring them back again.
  • A while back we had the pleasure of visiting @petea25 at the @cantonarms Arms, where we spoke about their ever evolving menu, a place that is not afraid to cook things until they are gone and then move on to something new.

We saw how they treated the Swaledale pork chop, and it told you everything you needed to know. Cooked with care, handled properly, and full of flavour.

It was, simply, delicious.
  • Here’s our Trevor, stood in front of an expertly butchered sirloin section.

Porterhouse, T bone, Wing rib, New York strip, fillet, sirloin.

All cut from the same part of the animal, each one offering something slightly different.

Key question is; which one are you taking?
  • The Dales never hurry themselves into spring, and this year is no different. You can drive through them and still feel winter holding on, yet something has shifted all the same.

It begins quietly. Hawthorn shows along the hedgerows, just enough to catch the eye. The grass is lifting, the fields softening, losing that tired, flattened look they carry through the colder months.

Out on the land, the change is clearer. Lambs are scattered across the fields, finding their feet, while cattle have been turned back out and settle easily into the pasture. There is a rhythm to it again, a sense that the farms are beginning to move.

Nothing arrives all at once. It comes on steadily, almost cautiously, as the land turns back to life.
  • The fallacy of Spring lamb!

When we eat lamb in early April, we aren’t eating the lovely little fluffy things people see hopping about in the fields. In fact, you’re actually eating – or at least you are if you are buying from us – old season lamb. The animals that were born the previous springtime. They are age wise, on the verge of morphing into hogget and, in our opinion, it is lamb at its very best. More flavourful as the meat has developed with age, but still with the tenderness one expects with lamb. 
One thing that is not in doubt is that it pairs perfectly with a lot of the seasonal ingredients of this time of year, the peas, broad beans and courgettes from the continent, plus Jersey royals, asparagus and wild garlic from these shores. 
We have plenty of these wonderful carcasses ageing in our fridges, so embrace the idea of eating last years spring lamb!
  • A classic of French cooking, built on combinations that have stood their ground for good reason, and long may they do so.

Chicken breast roasted in brown butter, creamy mash worked with plenty of butter and dairy, and a mustard sauce brought together with cream. It reads rich, but it eats with balance. The Dijon and tarragon cut through, lifting the dish and keeping it in check.
  • A classic of French cooking, built on combinations that have stood their ground for good reason, and long may they do so.

Chicken breast roasted in brown butter, creamy mash worked with plenty of butter and dairy, and a mustard sauce brought together with cream. It reads rich, but it eats with balance. The Dijon and tarragon cut through, lifting the dish and keeping it in check.

This is food that does not chase anything. It knows exactly what it is.
  • Filmed on a blustery day at the Harewood House estate, Ellen talks us through the Highland cattle and the wider farming approach shaping the land here.

These short films look at how the estate is guiding the land back towards what it once was, using the right livestock for the right terrain and allowing systems to work with the landscape rather than against it. Hardy cattle, able to outwinter on pasture alone, reduce the need for inputs and bring a different kind of balance to the farm.

For chefs, this is where the story begins. The flavour comes later, but it is built here, in the fields, through decisions made over time rather than in a single season.

It is a strong example of thoughtful farming, where lower inputs and careful management can support both the land and a sustainable margin, all driven by a clear intention to make the estate work for nature as much as it does for people.
We are reaching the end of our wild garlic sausages, as the season begins to slip away and only the deeper, shaded pockets of woodland still offer the tender leaves we rely on.

It is from these cooler, quieter areas that we are still able to gather what we need, though even here the plants are beginning to turn, and once the flowers arrive, the flavour shifts and our time with wild garlic comes to a close for another year.

As ever, we follow the season rather than stretch it, working with what is left while it is still at its best, which means if you have been enjoying them, or have been meaning to try them, now is the time to cook them or put a few aside for later.

Before long, they will be gone, and we will wait for spring to bring them back again.
We are reaching the end of our wild garlic sausages, as the season begins to slip away and only the deeper, shaded pockets of woodland still offer the tender leaves we rely on.

It is from these cooler, quieter areas that we are still able to gather what we need, though even here the plants are beginning to turn, and once the flowers arrive, the flavour shifts and our time with wild garlic comes to a close for another year.

As ever, we follow the season rather than stretch it, working with what is left while it is still at its best, which means if you have been enjoying them, or have been meaning to try them, now is the time to cook them or put a few aside for later.

Before long, they will be gone, and we will wait for spring to bring them back again.
We are reaching the end of our wild garlic sausages, as the season begins to slip away and only the deeper, shaded pockets of woodland still offer the tender leaves we rely on.

It is from these cooler, quieter areas that we are still able to gather what we need, though even here the plants are beginning to turn, and once the flowers arrive, the flavour shifts and our time with wild garlic comes to a close for another year.

As ever, we follow the season rather than stretch it, working with what is left while it is still at its best, which means if you have been enjoying them, or have been meaning to try them, now is the time to cook them or put a few aside for later.

Before long, they will be gone, and we will wait for spring to bring them back again.
We are reaching the end of our wild garlic sausages, as the season begins to slip away and only the deeper, shaded pockets of woodland still offer the tender leaves we rely on. It is from these cooler, quieter areas that we are still able to gather what we need, though even here the plants are beginning to turn, and once the flowers arrive, the flavour shifts and our time with wild garlic comes to a close for another year. As ever, we follow the season rather than stretch it, working with what is left while it is still at its best, which means if you have been enjoying them, or have been meaning to try them, now is the time to cook them or put a few aside for later. Before long, they will be gone, and we will wait for spring to bring them back again.
5 days ago
641
View on Instagram |
1/8
A while back we had the pleasure of visiting @petea25 at the @cantonarms Arms, where we spoke about their ever evolving menu, a place that is not afraid to cook things until they are gone and then move on to something new. We saw how they treated the Swaledale pork chop, and it told you everything you needed to know. Cooked with care, handled properly, and full of flavour. It was, simply, delicious.
1 week ago
3539
View on Instagram |
2/8
Here’s our Trevor, stood in front of an expertly butchered sirloin section.

Porterhouse, T bone, Wing rib, New York strip, fillet, sirloin.

All cut from the same part of the animal, each one offering something slightly different.

Key question is; which one are you taking?
Here’s our Trevor, stood in front of an expertly butchered sirloin section. Porterhouse, T bone, Wing rib, New York strip, fillet, sirloin. All cut from the same part of the animal, each one offering something slightly different. Key question is; which one are you taking?
1 week ago
571
View on Instagram |
3/8
The Dales never hurry themselves into spring, and this year is no different. You can drive through them and still feel winter holding on, yet something has shifted all the same.

It begins quietly. Hawthorn shows along the hedgerows, just enough to catch the eye. The grass is lifting, the fields softening, losing that tired, flattened look they carry through the colder months.

Out on the land, the change is clearer. Lambs are scattered across the fields, finding their feet, while cattle have been turned back out and settle easily into the pasture. There is a rhythm to it again, a sense that the farms are beginning to move.

Nothing arrives all at once. It comes on steadily, almost cautiously, as the land turns back to life.
The Dales never hurry themselves into spring, and this year is no different. You can drive through them and still feel winter holding on, yet something has shifted all the same.

It begins quietly. Hawthorn shows along the hedgerows, just enough to catch the eye. The grass is lifting, the fields softening, losing that tired, flattened look they carry through the colder months.

Out on the land, the change is clearer. Lambs are scattered across the fields, finding their feet, while cattle have been turned back out and settle easily into the pasture. There is a rhythm to it again, a sense that the farms are beginning to move.

Nothing arrives all at once. It comes on steadily, almost cautiously, as the land turns back to life.
The Dales never hurry themselves into spring, and this year is no different. You can drive through them and still feel winter holding on, yet something has shifted all the same.

It begins quietly. Hawthorn shows along the hedgerows, just enough to catch the eye. The grass is lifting, the fields softening, losing that tired, flattened look they carry through the colder months.

Out on the land, the change is clearer. Lambs are scattered across the fields, finding their feet, while cattle have been turned back out and settle easily into the pasture. There is a rhythm to it again, a sense that the farms are beginning to move.

Nothing arrives all at once. It comes on steadily, almost cautiously, as the land turns back to life.
The Dales never hurry themselves into spring, and this year is no different. You can drive through them and still feel winter holding on, yet something has shifted all the same.

It begins quietly. Hawthorn shows along the hedgerows, just enough to catch the eye. The grass is lifting, the fields softening, losing that tired, flattened look they carry through the colder months.

Out on the land, the change is clearer. Lambs are scattered across the fields, finding their feet, while cattle have been turned back out and settle easily into the pasture. There is a rhythm to it again, a sense that the farms are beginning to move.

Nothing arrives all at once. It comes on steadily, almost cautiously, as the land turns back to life.
The Dales never hurry themselves into spring, and this year is no different. You can drive through them and still feel winter holding on, yet something has shifted all the same.

It begins quietly. Hawthorn shows along the hedgerows, just enough to catch the eye. The grass is lifting, the fields softening, losing that tired, flattened look they carry through the colder months.

Out on the land, the change is clearer. Lambs are scattered across the fields, finding their feet, while cattle have been turned back out and settle easily into the pasture. There is a rhythm to it again, a sense that the farms are beginning to move.

Nothing arrives all at once. It comes on steadily, almost cautiously, as the land turns back to life.
The Dales never hurry themselves into spring, and this year is no different. You can drive through them and still feel winter holding on, yet something has shifted all the same. It begins quietly. Hawthorn shows along the hedgerows, just enough to catch the eye. The grass is lifting, the fields softening, losing that tired, flattened look they carry through the colder months. Out on the land, the change is clearer. Lambs are scattered across the fields, finding their feet, while cattle have been turned back out and settle easily into the pasture. There is a rhythm to it again, a sense that the farms are beginning to move. Nothing arrives all at once. It comes on steadily, almost cautiously, as the land turns back to life.
2 weeks ago
481
View on Instagram |
4/8
The fallacy of Spring lamb! When we eat lamb in early April, we aren’t eating the lovely little fluffy things people see hopping about in the fields. In fact, you’re actually eating – or at least you are if you are buying from us – old season lamb. The animals that were born the previous springtime. They are age wise, on the verge of morphing into hogget and, in our opinion, it is lamb at its very best. More flavourful as the meat has developed with age, but still with the tenderness one expects with lamb. One thing that is not in doubt is that it pairs perfectly with a lot of the seasonal ingredients of this time of year, the peas, broad beans and courgettes from the continent, plus Jersey royals, asparagus and wild garlic from these shores. We have plenty of these wonderful carcasses ageing in our fridges, so embrace the idea of eating last years spring lamb!
3 weeks ago
632
View on Instagram |
5/8
A classic of French cooking, built on combinations that have stood their ground for good reason, and long may they do so. Chicken breast roasted in brown butter, creamy mash worked with plenty of butter and dairy, and a mustard sauce brought together with cream. It reads rich, but it eats with balance. The Dijon and tarragon cut through, lifting the dish and keeping it in check.
1 month ago
7
View on Instagram |
6/8
A classic of French cooking, built on combinations that have stood their ground for good reason, and long may they do so. Chicken breast roasted in brown butter, creamy mash worked with plenty of butter and dairy, and a mustard sauce brought together with cream. It reads rich, but it eats with balance. The Dijon and tarragon cut through, lifting the dish and keeping it in check. This is food that does not chase anything. It knows exactly what it is.
1 month ago
535
View on Instagram |
7/8
Filmed on a blustery day at the Harewood House estate, Ellen talks us through the Highland cattle and the wider farming approach shaping the land here. These short films look at how the estate is guiding the land back towards what it once was, using the right livestock for the right terrain and allowing systems to work with the landscape rather than against it. Hardy cattle, able to outwinter on pasture alone, reduce the need for inputs and bring a different kind of balance to the farm. For chefs, this is where the story begins. The flavour comes later, but it is built here, in the fields, through decisions made over time rather than in a single season. It is a strong example of thoughtful farming, where lower inputs and careful management can support both the land and a sustainable margin, all driven by a clear intention to make the estate work for nature as much as it does for people.
1 month ago
64
View on Instagram |
8/8