Breadwinners

Recently, my sister-in-law, Kimberly, visited from the Bay Area. I enjoy dining out with Kimberly, but, for her, almost every Reno restaurant is a disappointment. She’s a picky one, and I’m always curious if we’ll find a place willing and able to win her over. So it was with some jubilation and no small amount of relief that Kimberly announced her sandwich from The Last Crumb one of the best she’s eaten in a long time.

The Last Crumb is tucked toward the back of a struggling little strip mall near the corner of East McCarran and Double R boulevards. Most units are vacant, with some still advertising the failed businesses of former occupants. It’s a retail ghost town, made significantly better by this stellar sandwich shop and bakery.

The two gentlemen working the place when we visited are true characters. There was the slightly pudgy jovial guy and the taller skinny guy, who, though equally as funny, kept catching us off guard with his wry sense of humor. Each was pleasant as can be and really added to the experience.

Kimberly, my wife, Kat, and my mother-in-law, Pam, and I were the only patrons that Saturday afternoon. The Last Crumb is tiny, with a few tables, chairs and stools all haphazardly clustered in the corner. It’s apparently an incredibly crowded workweek lunch spot, which in addition to sandwiches offers catering services and prepares an enticing array of breads and pastries from organic flours and grains. I started with the French onion soup ($2), and Kimberly ordered the matzo ball chicken soup ($2). My soup came topped with a thick round of bread and Swiss cheese and had so many caramelized onions I could barely contain myself. When I finished, the jovial guy even offered to top it off for me.

However, by then my sandwich had arrived, and I decided to hold off. The Last Crumb approaches sandwiches with gusto. Customers start by grabbing a slip of paper covered with ingredients and checking the boxes next to items they’d like. I asked if there was a limit to the number of meats, cheeses and other good stuff I could select. One of the guys scoffed and said “order whatever you want.” With so many choices, I choked and ordered conservatively—turkey, ham, provolone and a slew of condiments, including hummus and avocado on the Dutch crunch bread ($4.95). Next time I’d like to try salami, grilled eggplant, olive tapenade and all six cheeses on a croissant roll. Pam also ordered turkey but opted for cranberry sauce ’cause ’tis the season. Kat and Kimberly split a smoked salmon sandwich with brie and havarti on a toasted croissant.

These are not your typical $5 sandwiches. They’re huge, the bread’s amazing—especially the Dutch crunch which is not for weak-toothed individuals—the toppings are fresh and flavorful. Plus bonus points for letting people run wild with the menu, although I’ve got to imagine the proprietors have some limits to their generosity.

I’ll be testing that generosity very soon. You see, we were charged for a fourth sandwich we did not have the pleasure of eating. I didn’t notice it happened until we were miles down the road, and I was halfway through a massive slice of whipped cream and walnut-topped carrot cake ($1.50) recently removed from the oven. That wonderfully moist and spiced dessert stripped me of any desire for confrontation. I remember thinking, “damn this is good” and “let it go, it was an honest mistake.” Now that peaceable gibberish has been replaced with thoughts of melted brie on a croissant piled high with roast beef. So it’s my pleasure to head back and settle my debt with those guys at The Last Crumb.