Grilled Cheese: The Great Neutralizer of Cheese Warfare

Nobody likes a cheese snob. Nobody likes a food snob of any kind really, but a cheese snob might be the most heinous. Unlike, say, wine or a perfectly cooked scallop, cheese is a link to our childhood; the familiar comfort food without class boundaries. To engage in cheese snobbery is an affront to everyone's warm nostalgic cocoon of plebeian culinary memories. It is to say our shared history of sandwich slice American Muenster is garbage because not everyone knows that real Munster cheese is German, soft, virtually unsliceable, and stinky. It is to say your childhood joy for baseball park nachos is inferior to my piece of AOC-protected village-made raw milk Camembert. And that's just mean.

The Cuban Grilled Cheese with plantains

Expanding cheese knowledge and eating right is important, but not at the cost of being a butthead. No cheese food has taught me this lesson more explicitly than the Grilled Cheese. 

I've had my share of grilled cheese experimentation, and the one thing I love about this cheese vehicle is its versatility in conveying each individual's flavor preferences, be they lofty or pedestrian. There are a few universal cross-cultural truths to a good grilled cheese. 

1) The correct skillet or grill heat to achieve a crisp, golden brown (but not burnt) bread and crust

2) Appropriately melted and gooey cheese 

3) Appropriate ingredient ratios to avoid the dreaded sogginess

Beyond that, there are no cheese grilling laws. 

I love that grilled cheese can be a vehicle for almost any culture's street food flavors. Recently, I had a Cuban grilled cheese with Cheddar, Swiss and fried plantains. Similarly, I imagine a Haloumi and eggplant grilled cheese would be delicious if the appropriate limits to ingredient heft are maintained. The list is endless--even for cultures that don't have a cheese tradition. Throw some teriyaki chicken between some melty cheese slices before convincing yourself it's not good without trying it first. 

Sure, there are plenty of delicious ways to snob-up a grilled cheese. Pardon me lad, this poached pear on my grilled brie sandwich is far too crisp. Righto, but I said I did want onion confit on my grilled gruyere. By jove, there's no truffle oil on this?! (I don't know why my grilled cheese snobs sound British in my head.). Point being, a fancy pretentious grilled cheese with the right balance is also delicious...as long as you're not a jerk about it. 

I love the balance of salty and sweet, so if left to my own devices I add some homemade honey butter to the grill side of my bread, which is stuffed to the brim with sharp cheddar. Sometimes jam is also a welcome addition to the interior ingredients. 

Creativity is encouraged. At a late-night grilled cheese parlor in West Texas, I was introduced to an ingredient that has found a home in my grilled cheese options: the Ruffles potato chip. Hello extra crunch. Cheese it up to the maximum and throw some Cheetos in there. Do it in moderation and on occasion only, lest the crunch also finds a home in your arteries. 

My one pitfall into snobbery arises with American Cheese. American Cheese Singles freak me out, even though I've hypocritically avowed to (in moderation) graciously partake of your Superbowl Velveeta and Rotel or take a hit of your Easy Cheese on a Ritz Cracker for the sake of politeness and/or nostalgia. The Grilled Cheese, however, works its humbling powers on me. Though I prefer a sharp high-quality yellow cheddar to a Kraft Single, I'll appreciate the ooze-to-melty-stretch beauty of a good American Grilled Cheese. I'll probably even class it up by shoving some potato chips in there.