And croque-madame
I don’t know about you, but there was a time when I’d skip the béchamel. My parents didn’t quite see it that way. It was everywhere – spooned over endives au four until they slumped and browned at the edges, tucked between sheets of lasagnes à la bolognaise, and, of course, slathered thickly over croques-monsieur, bubbling and golden from the oven.
Dad liked his béchamel thick, creamy, and freckled with more nutmeg than seemed sensible. And croque-madame? I think it might have been one of his favourites – a lacy-edged œuf au plat perched on top, with a crisp salad glistening in vinaigrette on the side.
Yesterday, standing in front of the fridge, wondering what to make for lunch, I found myself craving that same creamy croque-madame. Dijon mustard spread just so, a generous handful of Comté, melting into golden puddles. I wished for the herbed jambon blanc from the charcuterie window of my childhood – marbled with fat and rolled in herbes de Provence – but settled instead for thin slices of peppery smoked ham. It worked.
The béchamel? I made it the way I like it now – smooth, with a proper grating of nutmeg and plenty of freshly milled black pepper. Funny how things change.
Some flavours, it seems, creep up on you with age. The ones you once dismissed as too rich, too boozy, too bitter – they slip back in, softer, gentler, until you start to crave them.
Things I used to avoid but now can’t quite resist:
– béchamel, nutmeg-heavy, like my dad’s
– rum raisin ice cream
– cognac sabayon, silky and sweet
– panettone, toasted and buttered until golden
– orange marmalade on crisp toast
– a glass of dry sherry, ice-cold from the fridge
– endives, crisp and bitter, in a salad
What about you? Are there flavours you once pushed aside that now feel like old friends?
Croque-monsieur
Ingredients
For the croque-monsieur
- 4-16 slices jambon blanc [ham] depending on the size of the slices
- 8 slices sandwich bread
- 4 tsp Dijon mustard
- Béchamel sauce see below
- 200 g Comté cheese grated
- Salt
- Black pepper
For the béchamel sauce
- 5 dl milk
- 50 g salted butter
- 50 g plain flour
- Salt
- Black-pepper
- A touch of freshly grated nutmeg
For the salad
- 1 head crisp lettuce
- 2 endives
For the vinaigrette
- 1 tbsp Dijon mustard
- 1 shallot finely chopped
- 1 garlic clove finely grated
- 3 tbsp red wine vinegar
- 1 dl rapeseed oil
- 0.5 dl olive oil
- Salt
Instructions
Make the béchamel:
- Preheat the oven to 225°C / fan 200°C. Melt the butter in a saucepan over medium heat. Stir in the flour and cook for a minute until smooth. Remove from the heat and whisk in the milk until fully combined. Return the pan to the stove and cook until the sauce thickens, whisking constantly. Season with salt, freshly ground black pepper, and a touch of grated nutmeg. Set aside.
- Assemble the croque-monsieur:
- Spread a thin layer of Dijon mustard over half the bread slices. Spoon béchamel on top, spreading it all the way to the edges. Add 1–4 slices of jambon blanc [ham] to each sandwich, depending on the size of the slices. Season lightly with salt and pepper, then top with grated Comté, saving some for later.
- Spread a little béchamel on the remaining bread slices and place them on top, béchamel-side down, to form sandwiches.
Gratinate:
- Place the sandwiches on a baking tray lined with parchment paper. Spread with the remaining béchamel over the tops, and sprinkle generously with the grated Comté.
- Bake for 10-15 minutes, or until golden and bubbling.
Prepare the salad and vinaigrette:
- In the meantime, combine the chopped shallot and grated garlic with red wine vinegar and a pinch of salt. Let sit for 5 minutes to mellow. Whisk in the Dijon mustard, then gradually add the rapeseed and olive oils, starting with rapeseed. Thin with a splash of water if the vinaigrette feels too thick.
- Thinly slice the endives and tear the crisp lettuce into pieces. Toss the greens with the vinaigrette just before serving.
To serve:
- Plate the croque-monsieur hot from the oven with a generous side of salad. Top with a fried egg for a croque-madame.
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