The undisputed king of sandwiches
Great food doesn’t always come from the great restaurants. Sometimes a beach diner will be serving just the perfect thing. Like today–we went out for lunch to a sandy little place on the boardwalk, and there, right before my eyes, was the greatest sandwich known to man.
Yes, the not-so-humble Monte Cristo. Ham, turkey and swiss on white, dipped in beaten egg and fried like french toast. The highest aspiration of the short order cook’s career. The apogee of luncheon cuisine.
There are fads and trends in food, and the Monte Cristo has been on the downside for years. It’s too rich, too much egg, just too darned enjoyable for our abstemious times. We live in a world where egg white omelets with turkey bacon and dry toast are considered desirable, healthy, even noble. Just not tasty or satisfying.
Served with my Monte Cristo were sweet potato fries, which are fantastic, with the requisite side of ranch dressing to add tartness to the sweetness.
I’ve had the fancy, upscale molecular gastronomy at Alinea in Chicago, I’ve had prime beef at Mortons. Give me a Monte Cristo, dripping with butter and a side of jam anytime.