Monte Cristo, and the Pomposity of Food

In a post on another site, someone remarked that a 'foodie' would never be caught dead in a chain restaurant, or at least, admit to it. Of course I emphatically disagree with two points of that statement.

First, the term 'foodie.' To me, foodie translates to culinary dilettante. Someone who loves eating food but has no idea how to prepare it. As it says under my bio, I am not a foodie. I am a glutton. I eat at chain restaurants.

The second point is that I don't think a foodie would be pompous enough to rule out an entire food source because they deign it beneath them. To be a gourmand, or even a foodie, you would embrace all food, and revel in taste, presentation and fellowship, regardless of the venue.

Why do I defend eating at chain restaurants? Because chain restaurants are where the gross excesses of American culinary imagination reside. There is a time and a place to merit excess, and chains like Claim Jumper have built an empire serving enormous plates of food that could feed an entire Pacific Island, let alone your teenage son.

Whoever thinks that a lover of food would never eat at a chain restaurant has never been in charge of entertaining a horde of kids. Any parent issued the unfortunate mission of having to feed a screaming battalion of children knows what I am talking about. You need lots of food to feed a swarm of unsophisticated palettes, cheap.

The fact is, chain food isn't all that bad. These restaurant groups spend millions developing recipes that mass audiences will devour like hyenas. That's how they make all their money. The Cheesecake Factory wouldn't have two hour waits if the food sucked.

So, let's quash this arrogant notion that 'real foodies' don't eat at chain restaurants. I eat at chains, delis, cafes, vending machines, fast food, dives, and stands, and I consider myself a competant and informed food critic.

So, what does this have to do with the Monte Cristo? Well, it is easily my favorite sandwich that happens to come from a chain restaurant, Bennigans. Yeah, Bennigans.

If you want to shuttle yourself to an early grave from either gross obesity or cardiac failure, the quicket way to establish your mortality would be to eat a Monte Cristo every day. This is the purest example of gross excess.



From their website:
A delicious combination of ham and turkey, plus Swiss and American cheeses on wheat bread. Lightly battered and fried until golden. Dusted with powdered sugar and served with red raspberry preserves for dipping.

No matter the description, it still reeks of stroke dipped in heart attack. Monte Cristo is to the club sandwich as deep fried Twinkie is to shortcake. They took something unhealthy and made it poisonous.

Don't get me wrong, this is one of the greatest sandwiches in the world, it's just inappropriate on every level. It gives an unapologetic finger to every credible medical journal, yoga class or hysterical diet in existence.

I love digging my way though the greasy, one-pound sandwich that comes quartered on a bed of french fries. Honestly, I've never finished one in a single sitting, I usually take home half or split it with someone.

So, if you want to elevate your spirit and cholesterol, if you can even find a Bennigan's, I dare you to eat a Monte Cristo. You might find you can't live without it.