Croque Madame, S’il vous plait
Such a fancy name for a such a simple sandwich. In short, this is a dressed up grilled cheese. How dressed up, you ask? Well, more dressed up than church on Sunday. More dressed up than the night you anticipate being proposed to over a candle-lit dinner. We’re talking dressed up for Senior prom where you have been nominated for Prom Queen, and your boyfriend (the quarterback) is up for King. This is a special sandwich.

When I went to France in high school I was less inclined to embark on culinary adventures. We dined at The Hark Rock Cafe, and I even ate lunch at McDonalds…more than once. In Paris! Crazy. I know. Let’s blame it on me being a naive teenager. Let’s also blame that purchase of raspberry cigarettes on naivety. Moving on…
One day for lunch, famished from a morning visit to the Louvre, some friends and I stopped at the first cafe we saw. Using some of my French food vocabulary I saw “croque-monsieur” on the menu and knew that a French grilled cheese with ham was something I could definitely enjoy. A French version of fast food. Warm, grilled bread, melted cheese and sweet & salty ham. You cannot go wrong with this choice.
This chicken salad came about like many meals do for me; I had to either use some chicken thighs I had in the fridge in the next few days, or they would need to be thrown away. So, I made a decision to do something with them…that something was yet to be determined when I put them in a plastic bag to marinate in some Italian dressing that was almost empty. After an overnight flavor bath, I still had no plan. Well, I guess baking them would be a good idea. So, that’s what I did.
Step aside Marie Callendar. Your frozen pot pies, while delicious and a snap to bake, cannot hold a candle to these truly delicious and homemade chicken pot pies. Yum.










This meal came about by reading a Martha Stewart recipe for Penne alla Norma which sounded so good…until I reached the line that read…EGGPLANT…gasp…blech! I hate eggplant. If someone wants to convince me that it’s delicious, then fly me to your house and treat me to dinner featuring this outwardly beautifully purple vegtable with an slimy inner evil. If you can convince me that it’s edible…I will retract the last few remarks and worship you.