So here is one way to re-raise the culinary bar with a summer sandwich recipe.

The ingredients
1. A traditional baguette, up to one half per person.
2. Comté cheese aged 18 months, 100-150 grams (3.5-5.3 ounces) per person.
3. Mustard with truffles, up to one teaspoonful, to taste, per person.

The traditional baguette

Formally called une baguette de tradition française, un pain traditionnel français, or un pain traditionnel [de France], and colloquially known as une tradition [s’il vous plait], the make-up of a traditional baguette is defined by a governmental decree of 1993. It must contain only wheat flour, water and salt, along with yeast, with tolerance for very limited amounts of other flours. Plenty of other delicious breads, including non-traditional baguettes and other loaves may also be tried with this recipe if you don’t have a baker of excellent traditional baguettes nearby. However, a traditional baguette is best.

While the proper portion of tender crumb (mie) to cracking crust (croûte) is important for any baguette, I prefer for this recipe a traditional baguette on the slightly white (blanche, meaning less baked) side of the spectrum, as opposed to the crustier more baked (cuite) version. In any case, it should remain within the mid-range, neither too blanche nor too cuite. It is essential that the baguette not be over 3 hours old, otherwise toasting in required. If there are several bread bakers within reach of your grocery rounds, it’s advisable to decide upon the best maker of traditional baguettes before attempting this recipe. Your stick of bread should also be kindly served at the bakery; a fine-looking baguette from an unkind seller may contain traces of bad karma. (Within my shopping radius, the prize baguette is found at 58 rue de Lancry in the 10th arrondissement.)

A single baguette feeds two for an adult’s lunch where this sandwich is the principal “dish.” For those who like figures, count two-fifths to four-ninths of a baguette per sandwich. That leaves a small portion which may have already been eaten on the way from the bakery anyway.

The cheese

This recipe calls for a semi-hard raw-milk cow cheese with a sharpness that is present yet not overly pronounced. My preference is for a Comté cheese aged 18 months. Comté is the most popular cheese in France. Produced in 80-pound wheels, three feet in diameter, then aged in the area of its production for four months to four years, Comté comes from the Jura Massif, a sub-alpine range along the French-Swiss border. We are naturally on the French side with this sandwich, in the Bourgogne-Franche-Comté region for the most part. (Some Comté also produced in Ain, on the northern edge of the Auvergne-Rhône-Alpes region). The Montbéliarde breed of cow is the primary source (95%) of milk for Comté, while 5% of the overall herd is comprised of the Simmental breed.

Much of the production is placed on the market after less than 12 months in the maturing cellars. However, those younger Comté risk being overwhelmed by the mustard with truffles in this recipe, while older Comtés aged 24 months or more stand best on their own. A 15-month Comté may do, but at 18 months there’s an ideal balance between its nuttiness and its saltiness, a saltiness that becomes more pronounced with ageing. (Note: What may appear to be salt in older Comtés of 18 months and more are in fact cheese crystals, as one might find in older Parmesans). Together, the nuttiness and the saltiness at 18 months further balance well with the mustard with truffles. Learn about Comté aging in this video.

I’ve also tried this recipe with a flavorful sheep cheese, such as a Tomme Corse, from Corsica, aged close to one year, and found it quite interesting. I’ve also experimented with a Brie de Melun (not Brie de Meaux), from just east of Paris, aged 10 weeks, and enjoyed that as well, though I prefer for this recipe a cheese with a semi-hard texture. In a pinch, when French cheese isn’t available, Comté can be replaced by an aged sharp cheddar. In any case, this is an element of the recipe that’s worth playing with according to your taste and the availability of various cheeses. Just be sure to select a gracefully aged cheese with a pronounced but not stinky taste on its own.

The mustard

The Romans of Antiquity were likely the first mustard makers in Europe, but the international conquest of the condiment comes from the appetite of the Dukes of Burgundy during the Middle Ages, particularly from their duchy’s capital in Dijon. Hence the reputation of Dijon in your own lifetime, more than 600 years later.

Dijon mustard (which isn’t necessarily from Dijon and might better be thought of as Dijon-style mustard) is prepared with dark mustard seeds, which have a sharper bite than the mild yellow (actually, yellow-white) variety. The English language gets the word mustard from the Old French moustarde (moutarde in Modern French). Mustum (Latin)/ moût (French)/ must (English) refers to the grape juice or young wine that was added to the grains to create the mustard paste.

Nowadays, 70% of French-made Dijon mustards use grains from Canada, but the jar used in this recipe contains only grains from Burgundy, administratively part of the Bourgogne-Franche-Comté region.

My mustard of choice for this summer sandwich is one with bits of white summer truffles, moutarde aux brisures de truffes blanches d’été. Specifically, a limited-edition product made by Reine de Dijon, a company based just outside of Dijon. The truffles in question are tuber aestivum, at 1.1%—a small but potent percentage. Use sparsely but markedly, enough to reach the nose when you first pick up your sandwich but not enough to overwhelm the bread and the cheese. The amount is key so as not to upset the proper balance of this sandwich. Do not feel that you have to cover every nook and cranny of the mie (crumb) of the bread. If this is your first time using truffled mustard then you may want to take a test run on with the nib of the baguette. (I will not at this time discuss the debate within the culinary community in France as to whether it should be placed on the bottom or top portion of the sliced baguette.)

Edmond Fallot, another regional mustard house (moutarderie), which can be visited in Beaune, the main town just south of Dijon, makes what might be considered a more precious mustard using fall-winter truffles (truffe de Bourgogne, tuber uncanitum, 5%). However, that mustard is more appropriately served with grilled meats or rabbit, or perhaps integrated into a homemade mayonnaise for other dishes, rather than used as a delicate condiment for this summer sandwich. (I could well imagine either mustard properly dosed to add a kick to a sandwich of raw roast beef, with or without cheese, and leave you to experiment with that at home.)

Maille, the most internationally known Burgundy-based mustard producers, also makes a line of truffled mustards.

No other condiments are needed.

How to serve

Cut in half. Best when served with fruit or salad. Avoid serving with potato chips (though I understand the temptation). This summer sandwich should be served soon after preparation.

Suggested wine

Côtes de Jura vin jaune, a deep yellow wine, as the name indicates, from the same region as the Comté cheese. I’ve also had a delightful experience in pairing with this dish a 100% pinot meunier brut champagne, which has the advantage of serving as the aperitif as well.

See this video for other wine and Comté pairing ideas and this video for other dishes with Comté.

© 2020, Gary Lee Kraut.

The post A Summer Cheese Sandwich Recipe appeared first on France Revisited - Life in Paris, Travel in France.

The editor or guest writers or contributors to France Revisited have personally tested, and in many cases retested, the establishments described here.

The personal nature of these choices will be clear to you as you read them. Along with the table, the dishes, the wine, the service, the atmosphere and the decor, what leads us to appreciate a place or dish or drink is the adventure and the experience of eating and drinking in various setting with various people, and sometimes alone.

Wherever we eat, it’s the people at your table who make or break the meal. Good company, even if that company is yourself, will save a bad meal, but a good meal rarely makes up for bad company—though good wine helps. That in mind, you will encounter here a smorgasbord of food-friendly co-testers in these reviews, from faithful sidekicks to notable professionals to curious travelers.

Some of these restaurant writings may even read as interviews as much as reviews—call them restaurant intereviews.

There are no “must eats” on the Paris restaurant scene or in the various regions of France, only wise, personal selections. The wise hungry traveler knows that there’s a time to spend more for quality and a time to spend less for character, a time when you want to luxuriate in the view from the high road and a time to sit down to hearty tradition, a time to go regional and a time to go foreign, a time for a brasserie and a time for a café, a time to make reservations and a time to carry bread and cheese to the park.

If you want what are generally considered the elite of French restaurants you need only head for the stars in the Michelin Red Guides, a major influence of the reputation of restaurants of haute cuisine in France. We love haute cuisine with the right company, on the right expense account. We highly recommend the experience and the luxuriance. However, you’re setting yourself up for disappointment if you choose a restaurant by its ratings or polling results, whatever guide you may be consulting.

More than any specific restaurants, it’s variety that we recommend. It isn’t where you should be eating in Paris that counts, but where you will find your personal blend of enjoyment and gratification, perhaps with a touch of adventure and discovery.

A sophisticated palate is a nice arm to have in your traveling arsenal, but eating out in France shouldn’t be approached as an intellectual exercise or some form of X-Game in which only the strongest stomachs survive. Instead, this adventure calls for exploring the rich variety of eating experiences available in France (and this is particularly true of Paris): outdoor markets, cafés, bistros, brasseries, cuisine bourgeoise (serving polished classics), regional cuisine, gastronomic restaurants, foreign restaurants, wine bistros, and wine bars. You’ll find that variety—and variety within that variety—among these reviews and intereviews.

We am a hopeful, optimistic reviewers. We hope that every restaurant we test will excite us in some way, that we can recommend it as a perfect place for romance, family, friends, celebration, negotiation, onion soup, duck, fish, apple pie, etc. So we enter each restaurant wanting to believe the promise that led us there in the first place—its situation, its menu, its décor, its name, an advertisement, my own previous meals there, suggestions of friends, acquaintances, strangers, chefs, restaurateurs or fellow restaurant writers. By the time we leave we want to feel that we’ve discovered (or rediscovered) something, even if what we’ve just (re)discovered has been known and written about for years.

Of course, that isn’t always the case, so don’t expect rave comments about every dish and drink mentioned here.

Add to these reviews and writings your companion(s) for the meals, your taste and mood at the time, and the hazards of dining out, and you come away with your own restaurant adventures in France.

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