When I started making this famous French sandwich one night and thinking of its inspiration — my friend and former classmate Sarah’s blog Edible Witness — I was reminded of a very fond sandwich memory of when I attended school with Sarah in Toronto.  Having just started graduate school, budgets and studying meant that socializing on a Saturday night was rare.  Of course that quickly changed, but in the early days, we took our mountain of reading very seriously. So, it goes that I met Sarah and Mike for lunch one Saturday and will never forget three things from that day:  the amazing booth that’s Sarah’s apartment had, the introduction to what would become one of my fave T.O. spots, Terroni, and the process of conversation becoming friendship.

When Sarah posted a recipe for a Croque Monsieur, I knew a solo supper would be raised a few notches with the bechamel-oozing bistro classic.  There’s technique in the making of the roux, but just keep stirring and remember to not let it brown, the nutty aroma of cooked butter and flour (almost like fresh baked shortbread) is a sure sign you’re there.

Dining companion:  The Trip

Croque Monsieur
Serves 1.

1/2 tablespoon unsalted butter
1/2 tablespoon all-purpose flour
1/2 cup hot milk (warmed in the microwave a minute or so)
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
pinch of nutmeg
1 cup grated gruyere cheese
Dijon mustard
4 slices white sandwich bread, crusts removed
6 thin slices of Black Forest ham

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Toast bread on a baking sheet for about five minutes and set aside.

Melt butter on low heat, then add flour and whisk vigorously to form a roux. Stir constantly for a few minutes until the roux begins to absorb the butter and the flour cooks.  Add the hot milk, whisking in gradually to avoid lumps. Heat and stir until sauce thickens (coats back of spoon), then stir in salt, pepper and nutmeg. Remove from heat and stir in half the cheese.

To assemble sandwiches, spread mustard on one half of sandwich, then top with three slices of ham, some grated cheese and about a tablespoon of the sauce. Place other slice of bread on top, then spread with more bechamel and sprinkle with cheese. Repeat.

Bake sandwiches in oven for about five minutes, then broil for a few minutes until tops lightly brown and bubble.

Fleur de Sel, translated from French to “Flower of Salt”, is a delicate, moist, pretty, French sea salt that is hand-harvested by workers who scrape only the top layer of salt before it sinks to the bottom of large salt pans. The most traditional, and in my opinion best variety, is collected off the coast of Brittany. From Brittany, Fleur de Sel de Guérande, which comes from salt marsh water, is the most revered.

My first taste of this salty goodness was introduced by Sylvie, a certain spicy little French lovely, who gifted my husband with a petite sac of Fleur de Sel de Guérande, brought from Saint-Pierre and Miquelon, in thanks for a little tech help he had provided. I had no idea a little sac of salt could be so exciting and contain the potential to make everything I eat taste brilliant.

We dined at her tiny apartment one evening and were told that we would dine St-Pierre style, which included eating from 8pm until 2am, drinking at least one bottle of wine per person, olive tapenade, watermelon and feta salad, perfectly roasted leg of lamb with rosemary potatoes, a pause for dancing through the apartment to the brilliant Pedro Almadovar’s “Talk to Her” soundtrack with eyes closed holding hands, spilling red wine everywhere while dancing with eyes closed, sponging it up with a whole lot of salt (not Fleur de Sel), and finishing with a warm flourless chocolate cake with orange zest. A perfect evening, with a perfect ending.

Since then, the perfect ending for many treats is a little of that flower of the salts. A sprinkle on a perfect vine ripened tomato and avocado, a pinch on “hot from the oven” peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, a sparkle on top of a dish of butter that make that slice of crusty bread better than it was before, a simple finish to a perfectly grilled steak, or the magic ingredient in a Fleur de Sel caramel chocolate. Fleur de Sel is a delightful indulgence that enhances the flavor of whatever it’s paired with.

I store mine in a little ceramic container on my kitchen counter that looks pretty, provides easy access, and helps retain moisture. It’s a little indulgence that goes a long way. I buy the same excellent “Le Paludier’s Fleur de Sel de Guérande” that was gifted to us straight from Canada’s nearby “France”. I place my bi-annual half pound bag order online at eco-natural.com at an excellent price, and I think you should too!

http://www.eco-natural.com/greysalt/fleurdesel2.html

Okay, now I’m having a 70′s moment singing the lines from Godspell “You are the Salt of the Earth”, to that whacka whacka guitar riff in my head. I digress….