Was there ever a childhood comfort food to compare to a grilled cheese sandwich?
Mom made it in a skillet or a grill press. At the diner or luncheonette, a cook slapped it on a well-greased grill top.
Mom’s homemade sandwich was simple: two slices of American cheese — preferably orange — tucked between two slices of spongy grocery store bread. Gobs of butter heated and swirled in the skillet served to warm and melt the cheese and brown the bread. When cut, warm gooey cheese formed strings between the halves. (The sandwich never met a toaster, but some kids — not saying who — tried to shortcut the process and slip the sandwich into a toaster, flirting with a kitchen fire.)
Mom paired the sandwich with tomato soup from a red can. Some kids dunked their sandwich into the soup. Pop artist Andy Warhol memorialized the can.
Decades later, some of those (toaster) kids went off to culinary school. After mastering the classics, they looked to Mom for inspiration. They gussied up mac-and-cheese with lobster and put fresh tuna into noodle casseroles.
They turned the homely cheese sandwich on its head, with house-baked sourdough or Tuscan loaves. And they sought out farmstead cheeses. For the soup, they chose fresh plum tomatoes from nearby farmers’ markets or from their own restaurant gardens. Or canned tomatoes from Italy or California or Spain.
Critics described the “elevated” sandwiches in voluptuous detail. Writers, TV chefs and influencers detailed the preparations laboriously. What Mom once whipped up by rote, began turning up on trendy café menus.
Still, nothing compares to the basic bread-and-cheese combination after a hard morning playing hopscotch or jumping rope. Or after a brisk baseball practice. Plenty of adults still enjoy a “grilled cheese” after a busy work week, on a lazy Saturday afternoon, or with a Netflix movie.
Since no recipe is needed, I offer a list of interesting “chef-y” variations while keeping it still recognizable.
Starting with cheese: I look for a good-quality cheese from the deli counter. Alternatively, I might buy a block of cheese to slice or grate at home. (Grated cheese melts smoother than sliced.) I avoid aged cheeses, like sharp cheddar, which tend to clump up when heated. I look for American, cheddar (mild), colby, fontina, Monterey Jack, Swiss. Sometimes I combine two or more different cheeses in a sandwich, especially when I have bits of leftovers from another recipe.
Now the bread. Grocery shelves display decent breads these days. A fine textured sandwich bread, like a Pepperidge Farm farmstead loaf (crust on or off), works best. Potato bread makes a nice change. Or I visit a local bakery for sourdough or herb-scented loaf. Some cooks, who took up the hobby during the pandemic, bake their own. (Now that’s elevated!)
For the actual assembly, I brush melted butter (unsalted Irish butter, trust me!) onto both sides of the bread. The interior sticks together better that way and the outside browns more evenly. Some cooks spread the inner sides with a thin coat of mustard or jam. This is out of the ordinary, but who cares if it tastes good!
The sandwich could just as easily include thin slices of ham. Blue cheese and thin slices of pear. Cheddar and chopped apple. Brie and raspberry jam. Goat cheese and arugula. The pairings are endless.
So much for my meditation on grilled cheese. What’s left but to heat a skillet or grill pan,or plug in the panini press! Original or new wave, grilled cheese is still good eating.
