Sometimes I’ll go to a really expensive restaurant and order the cheapest thing on the menu because it validates my standing in society while not forcing me to skip a mortgage payment.
I told my editor this, and she shot me a look, a face that read, “You sad, sad man.”
She agreed to set some budget money aside so I could visit white-tablecloth restaurants and order all the $25 entrees I wanted.
But an interesting pattern emerged as I sat down and scanned the menus at these upscale places. More often than not, the least expensive dish was the croque monsieur. This, of course, is just a toasted ham and cheese sandwich, but it’s classic French bistro fare.
So, the way to eat at high-end restaurants when you really can’t afford it is this: visit during lunch, and order the croque monsieur. Here are three worth your time:
Blackbird’s croque monsieur, $10
Caramelized red onions are smeared across house-cured-and-smoked ham, thinly shaved and perfectly “hammy” in its savoriness. The men’s size 17 sourdough is large enough for sherpas to hike up Everest on, and the melted Swiss atop oozes into the bread’s toasted crevices, so you get crunch, followed by cheesy oil. Oh, my. This will easily feed two. 619 W. Randolph St., 312-715-0708
Cafe des Architectes croque madame, $15
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Three coasters of brioche sandwich two layers of Nueske’s apple-wood-smoked ham, a la Big Mac. The hardened, crisp brown crust of Pleasant Ridge Reserve cheese — like Swiss but with gruyere’s mellowness — peeks over the edge. Hidden beneath the microgreen salad is a fried egg from Swan Creek Farm, which cascades its sunflower-yellow yolk down the sandwich when you cut into it. There’s also a subtle drizzle of white truffle oil, but just barely — plus a cast-iron crock of long, crispy fries. 20 E. Chestnut St., 312-324-4063
Seasons croque monsieur, $19
Consider the lengths that chef Kevin Hickey goes for authenticity: he gets weekly bread shipments from Poilane boulangerie in Paris, bakers of loaves for discriminating French palates. I mistook the sourdough loaf for whole grain; it is, in fact, gray flour, but the bread is dense, crunchy and delicious. Inside goes a thick layer of thinly shaved Madrange ham, mild in flavor, plus a slathering of Dijon-Mornay sauce and a slice of gruyere with a slight garlic aftertaste. The twist here is that it’s panini-pressed, achieving a grease-free sandwich that you can pick up with your hands, dignity intact. 120 E. Delaware Place, 312-649-2349
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