When I go out, I want to see and be seen. Neither of those happened at the Oaken Barrel, where the darkness enfolded our booth and made me wonder why the heck I'd bothered with pantyhose and high heels. I immediately ordered a Snake Pit Porter to salve my disappointment, and that was the highlight of the evening. I mean, obviously a brewing house is going to have good beer, but it was nice to drink beer that really proved the point. It was excellent, rich and full without too much bitterness, and it was an excellent companion to the reuben sandwich when it came. I was mildly disappointed in the reuben, having eaten at the Oaken Barrel before and thus having fond memories of the food. Maybe they got cocky and thought, "Hey, a sandwich, we can do that with our eyes closed." Whatever it was, there was NO thousand island dressing, which was irritating when it had been billed as being part of the meal. I hate getting partway through and then having to make that decision about whether to finish without or wait for the waitress to fetch me some dressing. I opted for the latter, and it helped. I didn't notice the briny taste Chris mentioned, but that could just be the Porter talking. I found that the amount of red pepper on the sandwich was so miniscule as to be pointless, and I felt that there was perhaps too large a portion of sauerkraut, which ended up making the bottom of the reuben a soggy mess that got all over my hands. Halfway through the reuben my (very good) Porter ran out and I asked for the Razz-Wheat, which they were out of. Instead I wound up with the King Rudi Heifeweizen, a light pilsner/ale type thing. It was good, with a light, clean taste and a haunting lemony twist, but it was far too wimpy to stand up to the reuben. The fries were excellent. I finished my meal with the Chocolate Ambassadeur Cake, which was advertised by the server as being composed of chocolate, chocolate, and chocolate. It lived up to its reputation, and, since it was almost my birthday, I washed it down with another helping of Porter. End result? I left the Oaken Barrel enamoured of their beer, but entirely indifferent to their reuben.