It's one of the culinary matches forged in heaven, and like the wheel, it's difficult to imagine life without ham and cheese. So ubiquitous is the celestial combination, we have even began to take it for granted.
Good quality ham with cheddar (or Emmental, Edam, mozzerella – the variations are endless) on crusty bread with real butter and a twist of salt and black pepper is rustic, wholesome and immensely satisfying. Add a touch of mayonnaise and honey and mustard and it's onto another level. Sometimes we tend to forget that simple things can often be the best.
I was first introduced to a croque-monsieur in Strasbourg circa 1992 and since then, despite our ups and downs, seeing other people and the like, we have enjoyed a passionate and hungry relationship. If you've ever had intimate relations with a croque, you'll know how inherently classy, chic and decadent they can be.
Yet the best thing about them is their simplicity. In terms of preparability, you can have a croque cooked and on your table in under 10 minutes and in so far as flavour goes, croques always taste like you momentarily morphed into Gordon Ramsey.
Essentially, a croque-monsieur is a hot ham and cheese (typically Gruyère) grilled sandwich and as is always the case with popular food, there are infinite variations on the same theme. Gypsy-croques can be dipped in beaten egg, then pan-fried in butter and a croque-monsieur served with a fried egg on top is known as a croque-madame. I've even had one with pears and brie, although I'm not too sure what it was called – but whatever the case, the cheese and ham element is everpresent.
Originating in France as a fast-food snack served in cafés and bars, the name (croque-monsieur) is based on the verb 'croquer' which means 'to crunch' or 'to bite hungrily' and the word 'monsieur' – mister – the reason behind the combination of the two words is unclear. But who cares.
If you never try another recipe as long as you live, you have to give this one a go. In fact, you don't even have to know anything about cooking, so simple and straightforward is the recipe, it's hardly even a recipe at all. As simple as assembling a sandwich, this is the epitome of quick and easy. Basically, if you can toast bread and grate cheese, then you're laughing all the way to Tasteville – and you're the mayor.
The owner of a tiny place called 'Le Sandwicherie' in the mountain town of Corté in Corsica told me how to make this particular croque. I remember Jean-Claude looking at me a little strangely when I asked how to make it. I soon realised why, it should have been self explanatory.
INGREDIENTS (FOR ONE)
Two slices of white bread, lightly toasted
Two or three shards of ham, the best stuff you can find
Dollop of creme fraiche
Two handfuls of grated cheese (gruyere, cheddar or any melting cheese. You could even try different combinations)
Salt and pepper
THE PLAN
Butter your toasted bread and set the grill to high. As this warms, make a normal sandwich with the ham (I always put a few crumbs of cheese in for the craic). Then, in a bowl, mix one handful of the cheese with your dollop of creme fraiche and season well. Spread this on top of your ham sandwich, sprinkle on your other handful of cheese (cover the whole thing) and bang it under the grill.
Keep an eye on the croque and when the cheese starts to turn golden brown, it's ready. It should smell amazing but be warned: I've lost count of the number of times I've burned the roof of my mouth on one of these toasties – probably every time I've had one – so be careful, the creme fraiche/cheese mix will be molten succulence. Eat with a knife and fork and a huge amount of self-satisfaction bordering on smugness.
