Sandwiches rule.
Bang all kinds of shit between two slabs of cooked dough and then eat it. Simple.
Everyone’s got a favourite but, in this guy’s humble opinion, the greatest sandwich of all time is the Monte Cristo - usually a ham and Swiss cheese sandwich dipped in egg and grilled like French Toast, sprinkled with sugar, drizzled with maple syrup and served with a side of blueberry jam.
Yeah, sounds ridic doesn’t it? Done right, I fucking love this sandwich.
Regretfully, I’ve only found one place that sells a Monte Cristo in London town, the Diner, and it was piss poor.
Foxcroft & Ginger’s effort, to all intents and purposes, is a low-key, anglicised bastard child of the Monte Cristo, but it’s close enough. It’s all rather petite, polite and user friendly, much like the establishment producing it.
A Monte Cristo lite, if you will. And it’s rather pleasant.
While it had soaked in the sweet, slightly nutmeggy egg mixture, the bread was still light and fluffy, the way good French Toast should be. The melty cheese mixture over the ham was mild and a touch nutty, and the honey and mustard drizzled over the top, whilst tear-jerkingly sparse, added a spicy sweetness to it all. And it was cheap as! No blueberry dip, but then again, it’s not a Monte Cristo, is it?
If you’re up for a coffee and fancy a bit of a snack as well, you won’t go far wrong with a visit to F&G. Just don’t confuse them with the deceptively similar Fernandez & Wells. No Monte Cristo there.
- Rob.
