France 44 – The Cheesemonger Sandwich

It’s a blustery day in Minneapolis, but I’m glad to be here and not at the farm, where all of my former coworkers are frantically harvesting every single fruit (i.e. peppers, tomatoes) in the field in preparation for tonight’s frost. To ease my transition into civilian life, I’ve been biking a lot to try to familiarize myself with the city. It’s definitely a pain in the ass with 27 mph winds farting in your face the whole time, LET ME TELL YA.

I worked up an appetite so I cranked it over to France 44, a huge cheese and wine shop in Edina. Owned by a fellow NYC transplant, it stocks lots of artisanal products from Brooklyn and also got really good reviews from Citypages and Chowhound. Like any good cheese shop, it has a really appealing repertoire of sandwiches that feature both novel and classic cheese + stuff combinations.

The girl working at the counter was really knowledgable and friendly — she’s even going to apprentice at a cheesemaking farm in Vermont! I stupidly forgot to introduce myself, but maybe next time. Is it weird to want cheese-loving friends? I just want to meet someone with whom I can munch on cheese plates! Is that so much to ask?!

The sandwich pictured above (set against a tumultuous Lake Harriet) is their house special, “The Cheesemonger.” It features sopressata salami, provolone cheese and a pepper & onion relish in a six-inch piece of baguette. And with the student discount (hehe) it was only 5 bucks with change! The verdict? Fuck yes. They’ve got it down.

 

GWAR – Meat Sandwich

I think we can all get behind this.

 

CUI: Grilled Cheese Sandwiches

Cooking under the influence is so scary, but pretty fucking fun. Plus, any food that manages to jump through the hurdles of a 40oz and pumpkin spice ale is definitely impressive, like winning a foot relay while being eaten by a shark.

After watching Cyber Seduction: His Secret Life and getting our slant on, Chris and I were super hungry. The tater tot emporium on our block had stopped serving food ages ago, so I mustered up what little resolve I had left and made grilled cheese sandwiches at home. Luckily, I was sort of anticipating this when I went grocery shopping earlier and had a good store of Gruyere cheese and sliced bread ready to go. It’s sort of tragic that I can predict the drunchies with such deadly precision these days.

My mom, being the fancy lady that she is, always makes grilled cheese sandwiches with Gruyere and caramelized onions, so that’s the kind of sandwich that I’m into. (Though if I had bacon, I’d have probably put that in too. Next time!) HERE BE THE RECIPE:

Vy’s Mom’s Grilled Cheese Sandwiches (for two)

• four slices of whole wheat bread
• Gruyere or Swiss cheese, sliced
• 1/2 of an onion, diced small
• melted butter
• salt and pepper
• sugar

Caramelize the onions: throw them into a small saute pan with butter, sugar, salt and pepper and let them cook until brown.

Construct the sandwich: bread + cheese + onion

Grill it: spoon some melted butter onto the pan and put the bottom part of the sandwich in, then put the top slice of bread on. Press it down for a little bit and flip it over. Press it for like 45 seconds and you’re done!

 

Jucy Lucy: The Unassuming Hamburger with a Core of Cheese Lava

Before you read this, you should probably check out Sandwiches You Will Like, a pretty cool (despite its tepid name) PBS documentary about the regional sandwiches of the U.S. The editing can be incomprehensible at times: Rick Sebak will flatly ask a question like, “So what’s the cheese to put on a philly cheesesteak sandwich?” and the editors will throw in 4 shots of snaggle-toothed Philadelphians exclaiming, “Cheese wiz!!” Sometimes they’ll mix things up with a “Definitely, wiz.” COOL!

Inspired by the IMDB summary of the movie, I decided to make like Slick Rick Sebak and try the Jucy Lucy on a recent trip to Minneapolis with my friend John. Is the Jucy Lucy Minneapolis’ official contribution to the regional sandwich pantheon? My dudefriend Chris, who introduced it to me, really seemed to be into the idea. In some aspects, it could serve as a somewhat snarky portrayal of Minnesotans — or at least, my stereotype-laden perception of them. The burger is, at first blush, just a straight-up burger. It’s distilled to its purest elements: a pillowy white bun, a beef patty, and maybe grilled onions if you want to be fancy. The gimmick is that the patty is filled with cheese, which, upon grilling, forms a molten core of dairy-based fat inside of the burger. There really is no other way to describe it: “molten” is a word that gets tossed around a lot in regard to this sandwich, and it fits. Biting into this sandwich hastily is like biting into Satan’s ass; it will napalm both the inside and outside of your mouth. So are Minnesotans, who are so gosh darn nice all the time, hiding a molten core of hatred for yourself and your loved ones underneath all that flannel? I wouldn’t be surprised.

In the end, this is just a burger filled with cheese. Even so, I think it’s a fitting official sandwich, given the region in question. I mean, come on, if Iowa’s bag is a pile of loose ground beef on a bun, let’s not sweat the small stuff.

 

Horribly Delicious Egg Salad Sandwich

My family really likes to buy eggs. Which is all well and good, save for the fact that they’re rather slow about eating them. This Memorial Day weekend, my mom and sister went off to California and left me alone with a nearly full carton of eggs with a “best by” date of May 14. Hmm.

So I turned on some Wesley Willis and sat in the living room trying to figure out the best way to dispose of 11 eggs without ending up a disillusioned wretch, sadly spooning week-old frittata into my tired maw. But then I realized that you could put all sorts of shit into egg salad, thus extending its welcome by a few more days. Additions like bacon, green olives, capers, jalapeño slices and curry powder work really well with it, and elevate it beyond its tired 50s-era picnic food stereotype. Thank you, 19th Century Anglo-Americans, for your unashamed love affair with covering proteins with mayo!

The following recipe is meant to be flexible; just put in whatever amount feels right to you.

Vague Egg Salad

• eggs, hard-boiled and coarsely chopped
• Hellman’s mayonnaise
• dijon mustard
• salt & pepper
• mustard powder
• chives, chopped into tiny-ish pieces

Combine everything proportionally: I’d say 2.5 parts mayo to 1 part mustard, a healthy dash of S&P and mustard powder, and enough chives to proliferate the whole mixture. Top the whole thing with paprika when you serve it. You can also eat it on a sandwich with cooked bacon, capers, sliced green olives, sliced jalapeños or curry powder. You could try adding cheese, but I think that’s pretty gross.

 

BLT Sandwich

At the show development meeting yesterday at my workplace, we discussed a possible cooking show, wherein some chef with ‘tude explores the ins and outs of making ridiculously simple things. We watched what they had so far, which was a 10-minute clip of some surly bastard talking about BLTs and how butchers have large hands. Every single one of us left the meeting craving one, despite the fact that the chef was a bona fide idiot.

The BLT Sandwich

• 2 slices of bacon, halved
• 1 roma tomato
• 1 leaf of lettuce (Boston, iceberg, romaine, whatever)
• Hellman’s mayonnaise
• 2 slices of whole wheat bread

Durr cook the bacon and put everything between the bread.

I tried to keep it simple here — I had never made one of these before, so I didn’t want to get too crazy. I did, however, throw some black pepper onto the bacon while it was cooking in the pan. Was that crazy? Do normal people do this too? I don’t know.

Trip Report, 11:46am: Oh my Jesus. This is amazing.