A Monte Cristo consists of ham, turkey or chicken, and Swiss cheese sandwiched between two slices of white or challah bread that is dipped in an egg batter, then grilled or fried in butter until golden brown. It is often dusted with confectioners’ sugar and served with a side of red currant jelly.
The Monte Cristo is an American version of the Croque-Monsieur, the famed French grilled cheese and ham sandwich that is fried in clarified butter.
The sandwich first appeared on the menu at Gordon’s, a restaurant on Wilshire Boulevard in Los Angeles, but it didn't get its big break until Disneyworld got involved. When the Blue Bayou Restaurant in the Pirates of the Caribbean put the Monte Cristo on its menu, its popularity soared.
I hadn't eaten a Monte Cristo since I was a kid, and I didn't remember particularly loving it. My, how things have changed. This sandwich has it all: it's sweet, salty, and chewy. It's addictive.
It's hard to believe that baseball season is about to begin again. I
see bits and pieces on the news about players reporting to Spring
training. I see photos of fathers and sons dressed up in their player's
favorite jersey, watching an early practice, hoping to get an
autograph. The excitement is building of those summer nights at the
ballpark; that all-American warm, fuzzy feeling most folks associate
with baseball.
Ask any New Orleanian where to get the best po-boy in the city and
almost every single one will tell you to go to a different place.
Po-Boy restaurants are as much a part of personal identity as the
neighborhood you grew up in – like a family heirloom, po-boy preference
is often handed down from generation to generation. And while die-hard
patrons of Parasol's refuse that anywhere else makes as good of a roast
beef po-boy, those who are loyal to Mother's will tell you that their
roast beef debris simply can't be beat. And who could forget Ye Olde
College Inn – a New Orleans staple.
Since I photograph at least 50% of what I cook and bake, just in
case I might someday wish to write about it and preserve an ephemeral
cupcake or casserole for posterity, my camera is always where I can
easily find it. Today, however, my camera was at a Minor League
baseball game with Sam, after a prolonged series of
“pleaspleasepleasei’llbe caaaaaaaaareful!” attacks wore me out. It
didn’t occur to me until after we had eaten what I considered to be an
interesting lunch that I could have photographed it using my phone – I
just scrapped the whole project when I remembered that my camera was on
walkabout among a herd of sugar-addled sixth graders.
Tuna Ingredients