Five Points Deli

The key characteristic of a classic American deli sandwich is that it's impossible to finish it. If you can't get your mouth around it at all, that's even better. Legend has it that this enthusiastic overdoing it sprung from well-remembered scarcity among Jewish immigrants, a post-ghetto gluttony that turned sandwiches into towering, victorious constructions, albeit built with humble meat cuts such as brisket (from the cow's lower chest). But do more digging and you'll find that the massive sandwich probably had more to do with mid-century New York deli-preneurs looking for bragging points.

The notion of producing a food item that's too big to eat makes me feel uncomfortable – and I don't just mean that my pants are cutting into my belly. It's wasteful, boastful and silly. But if it has to exist, it should be exactly as delicious as the Reuben sandwich at Five Points, which is stacked with juicy, briny corned beef, layered with Swiss cheese and sauerkraut, piled on soft, dark rye and served with a pickle and spicy crisps.

Five Points is the daytime incarnation of the huge premises that becomes Longhorn Saloon steakhouse and cocktail lounge at night. The look is macho and brooding, all heavy timber and pressed metal. Peppy service lightens the tone but you'll still want to wear your chaps and spurs.

The team behind the place also owns Le Bon Ton, a smokehouse pub in Collingwood, and the food is good. If you share the Reuben you'll have half a chance of trying other dishes, maybe creamy, punchy corn and chilli soup or geometrically pleasing, judiciously dressed Cobb salad and, hopefully, a leave-me-alone dessert like the sticky bourbon pecan pie. It's a serious business so it's lucky there's bottomless brewed coffee to keep you company while it goes down.

Score: Three and a half stars (out of five)