The egg. Simple? Yes. But also intoxicatingly complicated. So nourishing, rich, decadent, while also simply satisfying. The beautiful yolk in contrast to the snowy white, cooked so many ways but never better prepared than over easy on a bed of gruyere and ementhal, farm bread-rustic chewy with a soft brown crust-sandwiching salty cured jamon and tart mustard. Yes, the croque madame. Those that know me know I am a sandwich connoisseur. The reuben? A favorite. Heirloom tomatoes with buffalo mozarella and ground pepper? A summer devotion. The ever so consoling grilled cheese and tomato soup? What good that does the soul! But the croque monsieur is a sandwich that perfectly balances the gourmet palate and the simple pleasure of the grilled cheese. Add to that my most cherished of ingredients-the egg and viola! The croque madame in all her perfection! I bring to light the egg because the first thing I noticed apon ordering this sandwich in a unsuspecting cafe in the 11th Arrondissment in Paris-that and a blond beer-was that the yolk was a deep golden orange. Not the anemic yellow with wobbly clear white that we are so often served in the states. A yolk so deep and gold it sat pert and held its form in a perfect little sea of swan white. Oh how I sighed in great anticipation of dragging my knife through the yolk, that first break, watching as it spilled slowly over the white onto the melted cheese on the crusty bread. Perfection. That brings me to my other note on why this sandwich is one of my all time most cherished: you NEED a knife and fork to eat it. Detesting the act of touching my food (AFTER it has been prepared, I am a firm believer in preparing food with ones hands but not eating it that way), a simple place setting of folded linen napkin, tarnished silverware, and a small pot of pepper will do just lovely by me. If you ever find yourself harried and over run by work or worries, find time to enjoy a sandwich, especially one topped with a truly beautiful egg.
No comments:
Post a Comment