Why are people ashamed of grilled
cheese sandwiches? Why is it that they are so often relegated to the
kiddie menu? Granted, I first started eating grilled cheese when I
was a kid. But it's still a favorite of mine and at times I resent
having to order from the kid's menu like some kind of culinary social
outcast. “Look at that poor man! With all our double-decker Angus
beef burgers and triple-decker turkey and chicken and ham sandwiches,
all served with a veritable vegetable garden of toppings to choose
from, he orders a
grilled cheese!”
Yeah, so what?
Let me give you a
little backstory.
Growing
up, I was the poster boy for extremely picky
eaters. I had an uncle who predicted that, because of my ridiculous
diet, I'd be dead before I turned eighteen. (I have, by the way,
outlived that uncle.) But he could have been right. Until I was about
ten years old, the only thing I would ever eat
in a restaurant was French fries and a either a Coke or a chocolate
malt. That's it. Period. No exceptions.
Oh, I'd eat other
things at home, of course, and one of my favorite things to eat was
cheese. A slice of good old plastic, processed American cheese would
make me the happiest kid on the block.
It was my
grandmother who started expanding my diet by applying simple logic to
my unusual eating habits. And the first expansion supplied by that
logic was a grilled cheese sandwich. “You like cheese, don't you?”
“Yes, Grandma.” “And you like toast, right?” “Yes,
Grandma.” “Well, why don't we try putting the two of them
together and see how you like that.” Damn, she was good! And so was
that first grilled cheese. I've been hooked ever since.
Now, I can't say that grilled cheese
sandwiches are
always among
the ranks of kiddie fare. Cracker Barrel, for instance,
has a killer grilled cheese – made with cheddar cheese on sourdough
bread – right there on their regular menu. But most mainstream
restaurants either put them at the end of the regular menu in fine
print – like they're hiding them – or they list them on the kid's
menu. Believe it or not, I was once refused a grilled cheese at a
chain family-style restaurant because they were only served to those
“12 and under.”
There
are a few innovative restaurateurs who have developed eateries
dedicated solely to the humble grilled cheese – although many of
their creations are far from humble and, in my opinion, far from
being grilled cheese. These offerings are euphemistically referred to
as “adult” grilled cheese or “gourmet” grilled cheese.
All well and good, but a grilled cheese
sandwich, made the way God intended it to be made, should consist of
three elements; bread, butter, and cheese. The bread should be plain
white bread. Put a slice or two of cheese on a lightly buttered slice
of bread. Top with another lightly buttered slice of bread. Lightly
butter the outside surfaces and put the whole assembly on a flat-top
grill or in a flat-bottomed pan where you will toast it to golden
brown, melted perfection. Ta-dah! That's a grilled cheese!
But when you start adding roasted
vegetables and exotic condiments and unusual breads – well, you're
not in Kansas anymore, Toto.
I guess it's just because I like my
sandwiches simple. They look at me funny at Subway because when I ask
for a ham and cheese sandwich, that's what I want; ham and cheese. No
onions, olives, lettuce, pickles, tomatoes, cole slaw, mustard,
mayonnaise, relish, ketchup, vinegar, or any of the dozens of other
extras they offer. Ham and cheese. On bread. That's it.
So it should be with grilled cheese. I
mean, what does the name imply? A cheese sandwich on a grill, right?
There's nothing in there about sundried tomatoes and roasted red
peppers. If I wanted those things I'd ask for a roasted red pepper
and sundried tomato sandwich with cheese.
Here are a few selections I found
masquerading as grilled cheeses on a “gourmet” menu: Grilled
Cheese with Butternut Squash, Onions, and Balsamic Syrup. How about a
grilled cheese made with goat cheese, spinach and mustard? Or one
with russet apples and gouda? Or brie and pears with red onions and
arugula?
Thank you, no.
We all know the story about John
Montague, 4
th Earl of Sandwich, and his contribution to
culinary history. And did he ask for two all-beef patties special
sauce lettuce cheese pickles onions on a sesame seed bun? No. He
asked for a piece of meat between two slices of bread. Simplicity.
And that's what a grilled cheese should be; a slice of cheese between
two pieces of bread. Toasted.
Now, cheese on bread has been around
for about as long as there has been cheese and bread. You can find
references to cooked bread and cheese in ancient Roman cookbooks. But
it wasn't until the early 20
th century that the
combination we now know as “grilled cheese” really came into
fashion.
Prior to the 1920s, if you wanted to
fix yourself something as basic as a grilled cheese sandwich, you had
to work for it. First you had to build a fire in the stove. Then you
had to haul out a chunk of cheese and a loaf of bread from the pantry
and cut slices from both. Then you had to bring out the heavy
artillery, aka the cast-iron pan. It was all very labor intensive.
Progress, in the form of gas and/or electric stoves that lit with the
turn of a knob, opened a lot of doors. Even so, early grilled cheeses
were more along the lines of “cheese toast.” They were open-faced
affairs comprised of a slice of toasted bread and a sprinkling of
grated cheese. But then along came more progress; pre-sliced bread
and packaged processed cheese. All the makings of the modern grilled
cheese were now in place. A second slice of bread was added to make
the sandwich more substantial and … well, sandwich-like, and
suddenly, even kids could create a satisfying meal with little effort
and less expense.
And, unfortunately, therein lies the
problem. Grilled cheese sandwiches became a kiddie staple almost from
the beginning because a) kids liked them and b) kids could make them.
I know. I started cooking at about age 7 and a grilled cheese was
among the first things I learned to cook.
Now, I don't mean to say that upgrading
the grilled cheese is a bad thing. I long ago stopped eating plastic
American cheese. I sometimes make my grilled cheese sandwiches with
different kinds and combinations of cheese. And since I bake my own
bread, I haven't had gummy, store-bought white bread at home in
years. But that just means I've improved the quality of the
ingredients. I haven't radically altered the basic concept of a
grilled cheese sandwich.
I guess it's all part of the American
predilection toward excess. Somehow our national psyche still drives
us to be bigger and better than everybody else, even in our food. By
way of example, check out shows like “Man vs Food” someday.
Simplicity, it seems, is equated with paucity, and we Americans just
can't tolerate that, so we dump everything but the kitchen sink onto
our plates just because we can. Look what happened to pizza once
Americans got a hold of it.
So call me boring, call me pedestrian,
call me dull, mundane, and humdrum. I'll continue to eschew
“gourmet” grilled cheese sandwiches in favor of a simple comfort
food staple made with a slice or two of cheese between two slices of
bread. Serve that up with a bowl of tomato soup and some potato chips
or French fries and you've got a cheap, easy, satisfying meal. Is it
“adult?” Well, I'm an adult and I think so. Is it exciting and
innovative and “gourmet?” Nope, but then neither is another of my
favorites, peanut butter and jelly. And when it comes to the most
important question – is it good and does it give you a warm, fuzzy
feeling when you eat it – the answer is a resounding “yes!”
That's all that really matters, anyway.
Mangia bene!
