Say Cheese!
Grilled cheese. For me – and I know I’m not alone – it is the epitome of childhood nostalgic comfort food. Nothing tops it. That buttery, crunchy, slightly golden brown white bread that sandwiches oozing, salty ‘cheese’ melted to perfection. As I’ve gotten older, my enthusiasm for grilled cheese does extend to all the pimped up varieties and so it was with utmost exaltation that I attended the Grilled Cheese Invitational – in essence, a grilled cheese contest – in Los Angeles a few years back.
THIS is grilled cheese heaven. Not only is there an outpost where proper, old-school grilled cheeses (I’m pretty sure greased with lard) are handed out for free in endless quantities, but there is a round circle where in the middle eager contestants push out all sorts of grilled cheese goodness. But here’s the best part. You have to run around and fight your way to the front of the circle to be seen, and scream out for grilled cheese. I don’t mean passively raise your hand, I mean scream for grilled cheese as loud as you can. If you’ve done well, the contestants hand you a sample of their variety. You taste it, grade it, then put your notes in a box where at the end of the day, all comments and votes are tallied.
On 24 April of this year, the Grilled Cheese Invitational returns to LA. If you’re anywhere within a reasonable radius, do what you can to make sure you’re there. It is worth every cheesy bite.
[Photo via Serious Eats.]
At 28 years of age, I proudly admit to full knowledge of the heart-clogging warmth a true grilled cheese can provide, my Sicilian mother’s visual recipe acting as the groundwork before any regional up-pimping occurs (a personal fave being prosciutto or genoa salami).
But, aside from the endless cheese options or other additions, a big surprise came about back in high school-I remember an odd concoction a friend thought to be a grilled cheese sandwich. A day stands in mind as we cooly hung out after school, I watched my good bud assemble bread, cheese, and to my shock, no butter, followed by baking the assemblages in the oven for a few minutes. At that point, I remember homework calling me.
While the sandwich is one of the original blue-collar boasts that many, I’d imagine, agree the US to be lost without, my question remains: how many have truly known this described, oozing delight, vs. simply nodded in hungry, butter-free ignorance?
I hate to be the skeptic, but once the real thing has been tasted, I think we can all agree that a convention for this wonder is no laughing matter.