How many dishes can I dirty making a sandwich?, or, Dinner last night

Chez Fonfon is my very, very favorite restaurant and the site of the best meal I’ve ever eaten (some cut of lamb in navy beans—I don’t remember the details, but every bite was amazing). Beyond the atmosphere, beyond every lamb dish I’ve ever tried there, I love it because I can eat for about $10 (croque madame or croque monsieur) or $60 (Valentine’s Day 2007), depending on my mood. 

On Sunday I sat down with a few cookbooks and flipped through recipes while composing my grocery list. One of the books I referenced was Kim Sunee’s Trail of Crumbs, and I couldn’t resist adding the ingredients for her croque madame to my list. Now, I’ve had both at Fonfon and I really prefer the monsieur, but I’ll try almost anything. Plus, this recipe looked easy. 

A skillet, a sauce pan and one small cake pan later, my kitchen sink may have convinced you otherwise—but really, it was a pretty quick Monday night meal that required minimal coordination. (I did overcook the egg for my sandwich while I waited for the sandwich to bubble in the oven, but every first attempt deserves a little grace.) The result? Incredibly satisfying, despite the aforementioned egg and the fact that I substituted mozzarella for Gruyere. (Shush. It was what I had on hand.) 

Croque-Madame

This is basically a really decadent ham-and-cheese sandwich with an egg on top to elevate it from a monsieur to a madame. Substitute thin slices of grilled chicken for the ham. I like my egg sunny-side up so I can swirl the cheese sauce into the warm yolk, but poached or over easy eggs would work as well.  

Butter
4 slices sourdough or pain de mie (white sandwich bread)
4 slices good-quality cooked ham (or chicken)
Dijon mustard (optional)
1 cup grated Gruyère or Emmentaler cheese, divided
1 ½ to 2 cups Mornay Sauce
2 sunny-side up eggs
 

Heat a large ovenproof skillet over medium-high heat. Butter bread on all sides, and top 2 of the slices with ham (sometimes I add a smear of Dijon). Top with half the cheese and cover with remaining bread slices. Place sandwiches in skillet, pressing gently with back of spatula. Let cook about 1 to 2 minutes or until bottom is lightly golden. Top with Mornay Sauce and remaining cheese. Place overnproof skillet in oven, and broil 1 to 2 minutes (be careful not to burn) or until golden and bubbly. Top with egg, and serve immediately.  

Mornay Sauce

I usually make this in a nonstick saucepan, which makes for easy cleanup.  

 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 tablespoon all-purpose flour
1 ½ to 2 cups milk (whole or 2 percent)
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon fresh- ground pepper
Freshly grated nutmeg, to taste
3/4 cup coarsely grated Gruyère or Comté cheese (about ¼ pound)

Melt butter in a heavy-bottomed saucepan over medium-high heat. Stir in flour and cook, stirring constantly, about 1 minute (do not let brown).  Add milk, whisking constantly. Bring to a low boil and cook, stirring constantly, about 2 minutes more. (Once it boils, if too thick add more milk.) Season with salt, pepper, and nutmeg. Remove from heat, and stir in cheese.

–Trail of Crumbs, Kim Sunee

Little darling, it’s been a long cold lonely winter

During the months I lived with my grandparents, one of the things I missed most about independence was cooking. In college I cooked a lot—usually for dinner parties, often involving the boy I had a crush on at the time, because surely all a 19-year-old boy wants is a woman who can make corn chowder. Cooking became less of a priority as I entered grad school and then the working world; then with my grandparents fixing virtually all of my meals, motivation was non-existent.

 

I moved into my apartment on the first Wednesday in August. By Saturday I was mostly unpacked with a stocked kitchen. I called my mother that night, exuberant after the first meal cooked in my new home.

The cooking has become standard (and, OK, the self-congratulatory phone calls aren’t unusual, either). Yes, I’ve always got leftovers, but I usually cook—really cook—a few nights a week. Fridays have become my big meal. It’s cathartic.

So my resolution this year was to begin developing a stable of go-to recipes, an idea one of my favorite food writers once mentioned. I want a handful of trustworthy dishes I can create from memory in my kitchen or someone else’s. That grouping should include some comfort foods, but also a little something to trot out for parties or special occasions, and dishes I can easily make after work.

I’ve been so busy over the past two weeks that I literally hadn’t done more than brown beef for nachos. Last night I finally got back in the kitchen to make macaroni and cheese for community group while juggling phone calls with two of my very closest friends. It wasn’t my usual cooking method, and I’m not ready to add this recipe to my list just yet. But creating it and then sharing it while deep in conversation with friends was as comforting as the dish itself.

Venetian “Mac and Cheese”
from Everyday Pasta by Giada De Laurentiis

Although it’s not a true—blue, all—American macaroni and cheese because it’s made with wide egg noodles rather than the more traditional elbow macaroni or small shell pasta, this is probably the version I make most often. It’s a dish I fell in love with when I first had it years ago at Harry’s Bar in Venice. Later I re-created it at home as the ultimate comfort food and also to bring back memories of Venice.

 Butter for the pan
12 ounces wide egg noodles
2½ cups whole milk
2 cups heavy cream
2 teaspoons all-purpose flour
½ teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 cups (packed) grated fontina cheese
¾ cup (packed) finely grated Parmesan cheese
¾ cup (packed) grated mozzarella cheese
4 ounces cooked boiled ham, diced (optional)
2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
Preheat the oven to 450°F. Butter a 9 x 13 x 2-inch glass baking dish. Cook the noodles in a large pot of boiling salted water until tender but still firm to the bite, stirring frequently, about 5 minutes. Drain well (do not rinse). Whisk the milk, cream, flour, salt, and pepper in a large bowl to blend. Stir in 1 cup of the fontina, ½ cup of the Parmesan, ½ cup of the mozzarella, the ham, and parsley. Add the noodles and toss to coat. Transfer the noodle mixture to the prepared baking dish. Combine the remaining 1 cup of fontina, ¼ cup of Parmesan, and ¼ cup of mozzarella in a small bowl and toss to blend. Sprinkle the cheese mixture over the noodle mixture. Bake until the sauce bubbles and the cheese melts and begins to brown on top, about 15 minutes. Let stand for 10 minutes. Serve warm.

6 servings

(I think it needs something a little extra—or perhaps that’s just because I always sub in whatever cheese I have on hand. I may be cheating it. Also worth noting: I think this dish is better the day after. I love it for lunch at work!)