Food - Bee Wilson on how the toasted sandwich needs a little French sauce
How enigmatic is the croque-monsieur. No one seems to know quite how or why this delectable sandwich was christened. "Croquer" means to crunch or munch, so croque-monsieur literally means "munch-sir" or "crunch-sir".
But why should this term attach to a toasted cheese-and-ham sandwich rather than any number of other crunchy, munchy things? And who was the original muncher? Larousse Gastronomique tells us that the croque-monsieur was first served in a cafe on the Boulevard des Capucines in 1910, but it doesn't say which one. The croque-madame, that strangely named variant crowned with either an egg or some chicken, was invented later.
Another enigma about the croque-monsieur is that it doesn't seem to travel. For a long time, I couldn't understand why a sandwich that tastes so utterly suave while strolling through the Marais with a copy of Sartre in one's hand (as it were) could become so everyday when made at home, even when I used the finest vintage Gruyere, the sweetest Normandy butter, the best white bread and the most lovingly home-cooked ham sliced as finely as possible. I put it down to Paris. It must be the scent of the Seine or the grey glamour of a Haussmann boulevard which makes the difference.
I was wrong. The secret of the croque-monsieur is not atmosphere, but white sauce. Very few recipes include it, yet a layer of bechamel sauce is almost always present in the versions you buy in Parisian cafes and sandwich shops, and it is quite indispensable for the squidgy deliciousness that distinguishes the croque-monsieur from a mere grilled cheese sandwich. It's the bechamel that makes it, but there should not be much of it, and it should be unobtrusively seasoned. In the belly of Les Halles, I recently ate a croque-monsieur perfumed with a grating of nutmeg, as in the bechamel for lasagne. At first, it was comforting, but, in the end, the spice was too much - it became almost soporifically soothing, like cake. A croque-monsieur is better simply salted and peppered and eaten lukewarm.
Bechamel has the virtue of staying soft as it cools, unlike cheese. The current Parisian addiction to panini stalls is puzzling. Why anyone should want to make or eat hot stringy mozzarella when they could have a warm croque-monsieur is as mysterious as the success of McDonald's in France, a country that ought to have no need of it. To make the cultural confusion complete, you can now buy a "croque-McDo", a robotic circle of factory toast, cheese and ham (but not, I think, bechamel).
Now that I have unravelled the enigma, I find I can at last make croque-monsieurs even in a cluttered English kitchen. They are still not quite as good as those munched in French cafes with a pichet of red wine (Paris does, after all, count for something), but they do not disappoint.
For four croque-monsieurs (or is it croques-messieurs?), take eight slices of thin but good white bread, four slices of Gruyere, four slices of flavoursome ham, some butter, flour, milk, salt, pepper and a few handfuls of finely grated Parmesan or Gruyere. Make a bechamel in the usual way with a tablespoon of butter, the same of flour, about 220ml whole milk, and salt and pepper to taste. When the sauce is thick and glossy and as lump-free as you can manage, stir in a handful of the grated cheese. Spread some sauce on each of four slices of the bread. Top with a slice of ham, a slice of Gruyere and a second slice of bread, also lightly sauced. Put all four sandwiches on a rack in a grill pan. Brush with melted butter, sprinkle with a little grated cheese, grill for two to three minutes. Turn carefully, treat the other side with more butter and cheese, and finish grilling. These will be beautiful if eaten straight away for supper with Dijon mustard, and yet, they are almost better saved until the next morning, when the ever-so-slightly soggy bechamelly toast becomes an uncannily effective cure for a hangover.
Post this article to
We want to encourage people to comment on our content and to exchange views with other readers and hope this will be done on a courteous basis. However, if you encounter posts which are offensive please let us know by emailing comments@newstatesman.co.uk and we will take swift action where necessary.
