French Fries, Liberated!

Anyone remember the “Freedom Fries” incident? For those of you who don't, I'll recap. In 2003, President Bush was drumming up international support for invading Iraq. The French, disagreeable by nature, declined. Conservative Americans were outraged. How, they asked, could the French be so ungrateful? Americans rescued them from a fate worse than death in the Second World War and therefor they owe us one, and obviously that means following us blindly into a war with few concrete justifications, an absence of clear objectives, and not a hint of an exit strategy. Why wouldn't they want on board?

While New York restaurants symbolically dumped bottles of French wine into the streets and the ass fell out of the U.S. beret market, someone on capitol hill declared the French to be a bunch of “cheese-eating, surrender monkeys.” I'd like to point out that this fantastic insult may well be the funniest thing an American politico has ever uttered, even if the line was stolen from the Simpsons. Insult, however, was not going to suffice; our politicians were hard at work devising some real punishment for the Frogs.

Enter Reps. Robert Ney (R-OH) and Walter Jones, Jr. (R-NC). Together they declared that all of the restaurants run by the House of Representatives were to change their menus to omit the word “French.” Thus Freedom Fries were born. The French embassy, manifestly stung, issued a statement along the lines of “we're talking about international issues, we don't care what you call your potatoes.”

My favorite part about all of this is that French Fries aren't even French. They most likely were invented in Belgium. Conservatives missed their mark. It's amazing, really, given the massive influence French cuisine has had on the American diet. They could have directed their ire at so many other foods. Just flipping at random through my well-worn copy of James Beard's “American Cookery” I find something French-affected on nearly every page. For example: chowder, casserole, fondue, baked beans, soufflé, puff pastry, braised ribs, pâté, meatloaf, not to mention mustards, soft cheeses, and a whole host of other delectable things. To remove the “French” from the American diet would be to slash it in half. I couldn't survive. Wouldn't want to, at least.

Here's one more I'd miss. It's a ham and cheese sandwich so bloody good the French gave it a name, and a proper name at that. Croque Monsieur, or Mr. Crunch, was invented early in the 20th century in the street-side cafés of Paris. I imagine the characters from Hemingway's “The Sun Also Rises” lazily ordering one for brunch. As with most things delicious, this grilled gruyère sandwich is beautifully simple and has endless variations: topped with a bechamel sauce, with tomato, salmon instead of ham, with blue cheese. The most famous of variation is topped with a fried egg – Croque Madam.

My version, below, includes a simple onion jam.



Croque Monsieur

2 slices sourdough bread
4 slices good quality ham
2 slices gruyère, emmental, or similar cheese
2 tablespoons butter

Onion Jam

1 small onion, sliced thinly
2 tbsp red wine vinegar

Sweat the onion in a little olive oil over medium head until it is soft and begins to caramelize. Add the vinegar and simmer until all the liquid is absorbed. Season and remove from heat.

Assemble the sandwich; bread, onion jam, ham, cheese, bread. Heat a skillet on medium heat and drop in one tablespoon butter. When it has melted and begins to foam, place the sandwich in the pan. Cook until the bread is crisp, adjusting heat to keep the butter foaming – too hot or too cold and it will stop bubbling, meaning either you are burning the butter or stewing your sandwich. Both not so good.

Flip the bread, adding more butter to the pan as needed. Brown the sandwich, making sure the cheese is melted. Have breakfast (preferably sometime after 1:00p.m.).

Did I mention that this is just about the world's greatest hangover cure?