From the April 12 issues of The Times and The News-Star
(* Since this was published, I've been told you can order a grilled cheese at Sonic and for fifty cents more they will add two strips of bacon. For fifty cents! Whaaaaaaa.....!? I'm in!)
A reminder today of some of the most notable threesomes
in history, trios that go together like baseball, fireworks and the Fourth of
July.
Sports: Tinker to Evers to Chance. Palmer, Player and
Nicklaus.
Yankees, money and more money.
Literature: Athos, Porthos and Aramis: “All for one, one
for all.”
The film world: Larry, Curley and Mo, Charlie’s Angels,
Don Duck’s nephews Huey, Dewey and Louie and, on the Road to Somewhere, Bing
Crosby, Bob Hope and Dorothy Lamour.
Singing? How about The Kingston Trio, The Gatlin Brothers
and The Three Guys Who Sing Opera so high that their underwear has to be about
seven sizes too tight. (Small price to pay for being able to sing high and
pretty.)
To those standards, we add springtime icons azalea,
dogwood and the subject of today’s small essay, grilled cheese sandwiches. God
made the first two, so it’s fair they get the most publicity. But the grilled
cheese sandwich is a testament to what the hands of imperfect man can create
when he puts his mind, his stomach and his taste buds to it.
Before anyone thinks I’m on drugs, the answer is No, I’m
not saying that the grilled cheese sandwich is on par with “Slim Genie
Jeggins,”
not in terms of ingenuity. What? You don’t know about
Jeggins?, a new haberdashery phenomenon taking women’s bottom halves by storm,
the pants that “fit like leggings but look like sexy skinny jeans”?
I know! I too am flummoxed. Who would think there would
be such an invention? We’re talking about a material that looks like denim but
has the give of a willow tree in a hurricane.
The commercial on television – it was on TV so it must be
true – frightened me, me sitting there laughing myself through some late night
episodes of “The Twilight Zone,” wondering if we’re out of Honey Nut Cheerios,
wondering how tight that underwear must be that The Three Tenors wear, and all
of a sudden these ladies you usually see at Super One or in car pool line are
posing this way and that, proudly modeling
“ultra comfortable jeans that smooth your bottom, legs, hips and thighs
and show no panty lines.”
One of the wearers demonstrated the elasticity by pulling
on the waistband. It went waaay out, like a rubber band or Silly Putty and not
like denim at all. My first thought:
this is the most marvelous invention since the Thermos. Now women can wear
skinny jeans without feeling they are in either chain mail or a rigid denim
body cast.
They even have pockets!
Would I buy a pair? No, but that is because I am not a
girl and also because I cannot give up grilled cheese, which are butter, bread
and cheese. Too many grilled cheese would show right through my Jeggings;
that’s the only bad thing about Jeggings; they are not grilled cheese proof.
Eat one and put on Jeggings and it looks like you’re hiding half a deli in your
jeans. (It is wise to remember here that these pants are called Jeggings and
not called Miracles.)
That gets us back to what we wanted to say, which was
don’t forget to eat grilled cheese sandwiches this spring. If you have
children, the overhead is low, prep time is minimal, results are
mouth-watering.
The best method is simply to butter both sides of two
pieces of bread, put them in a buttered griddle, put a slice of American cheese
on each piece, then flip back and forth, two or three times, over the course of
five or six minutes. You want melted cheese and somewhat crunchy bread. Serve
with ice cold milk. Weep for joy.
Let this be your spring of experiment. Try it with
sourdough bread for more crunch. And with olive bread. Try different cheeses.
Try a crescent! Sneak in a tomato slice. Or salami. Even spinach.
I know at least one trio who plans to push the culinary
edge of the grilled cheese envelope this spring: me, myself and I. Come on
along.
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